3/23/2004 » Photos

It’s always fun decoding the art direction at friends’ weddings. Last weekend’s was the most modernist I’ve attended. The rural, white-walled Ohio church oratorium used to be a barn, and it had Rothko-like color field paintings hanging on the walls. The ceremony incorporated a Tibetan Buddhist gong and joint candle lighting, and the reception hall was a twin of Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House. The guests were only close family and friends, the rural setting made it feel simple and warm. The ceremony was symbolically held on the vernal equinox, the first day of spring. Precisely when B and S finished reciting their vows, the sky thunderclapped, a deific benediction. The first downpour of spring cleansed the air and slunk off quietly.

The ceremony was crisp and incorporated Christian traditions of meeting your neighbors in the pews and witness declarations, a collective ‘we do.’ The vows and hymn were the newly de rigeur, non-sexist, egalitarian versions. Apple cider substituted for champagne, as the wedding was non-alcoholic, a South Indian tradition. The toasts were to the point, and the reception ran ahead of schedule. Dr. B, who’s keeping her name, put a copy of ‘Marriage Shock: The Transformation of Women into Wives’ on the place settings table—can’t get more pointed than that.

B and S tied the Malayalee minnu (mangalsutra-like wedding necklace) and slipped on rings. B wore a gorgeous flame-colored sari and a white one with maroon border for the wedding, S alternated between a suit and a silk kurta-pajama with long vest and ultra-stylish silk shawl held in the crook of his left arm like some netaji or Amitabh Bachchan.

Someone must’ve had a serious foot fetish, ’cause there was both a crazy socks contest and an ugly feet contest. We heard renditions of the Michigan and C High School fight songs, although everyone was sober. The Berkeley folks finally came up with our fight song an hour later, which just goes to show that we were not a football school. I MC’d and spun the tunes.