Thiala
& Batu

A Brazilian, a Turk, and a Dublin civil wedding

Thiala is Brazilian. Batu is Turkish. Dublin was the city that ended up holding both of their stories — two long roads out of different countries, different languages, different versions of themselves, all landing here. The patience and paperwork and distance weren't between them. They were what each of them had already been through to even get to Dublin in the first place. They didn't have to negotiate distance from each other. They had already done the harder thing: surviving the kind of distance from yourself that immigration asks of you.

By the time they got to the day of the wedding, both of them had already lived enough to know that not every maybe turns into a yes. They were tired in the good way. Sure in the deep way. Ready to do the official part — the legal one, the bureaucratic one, the one a lot of international couples in Ireland end up paying special attention to because for them it's never just about the romance, it's also about the documents.

"We want to look like we mean it" — urban romantic in white and tux

For the wedding, Thiala wanted urban and romantic. A white tailored suit with a veil — Lisbon dress codes meet Dublin Georgian doors. Batu in a tux with a bow tie, hair styled like he was about to walk a red carpet. The brief was simple, and so them: "we want to look like we mean it."

We walked through Dublin before the civil ceremony. Past the red doors. The brass numbers. The cobbled side streets that turn cinematic in afternoon light. A bride in white walking through the city. A groom beside her. The language of the place around them — three languages, technically: English on the signs, Portuguese in her phone calls home, Turkish in his. Everything looking like it belonged to the day.

What I love about a civil ceremony like Thiala and Batu's is how much weight the small details start carrying. The registry isn't a venue — it's a state office. The hour is short. The witnesses are real friends, not extras. The vows are read off a card and they still break someone's voice. There's no performance scaffolding to hide behind, so the truth of the day shows up undisguised: this is the morning two people stopped saying we're together and started saying we're married, in front of a clerk, in three languages, in Dublin.

The registry — quick, careful, completely held

The civil ceremony itself was quick, in English, with a registrar who pronounced both their names carefully — the way a registrar does when she knows the names are not from this country and that getting them right is the first small act of dignity. They held each other through the vows. Then signing. Then rings. Then a small loud handful of people clapping in the registry room — friends from three continents who had come to Dublin to watch them choose each other in front of the Irish state.

It's one of my favourite kinds of wedding to photograph. Small. Specific. International. Earned. The opposite of a wedding-as-performance. A wedding-as-arrival.

Coverage · Half-day · photo, Dublin
Ceremony · Civil at Dublin registry office
Languages used during the day · English, Portuguese, Turkish
Look · Urban-romantic · white tailored suit + tux

I'd known Anna's work for two years already. The first chance I got — when Batu and I decided to get married — I thought: the photographer has to be Anna.

From then on, we exchanged references, talked through the plan, and she was always extremely flexible and attentive. Anyone who's been a bride knows how many emotions there are on the day — so much to think about, even when it's not a traditional ceremony. And beyond the professionalism, I felt Anna also brings warmth. She led the whole thing with so much care.

On the day, I had to change the plan at the last minute — and she adapted completely calmly. When I finally got to the location, late — she was already there, waiting for me, full of positive energy.

The photos came out incredible. Batuhan and I are so happy with the result. Thank you, Anna, for your care, your warmth and your professionalism. I'd recommend her work to anyone.

— Thiala