Anniversary Photoshoot: Meg and Joe at Brookwood Park

You might’ve noticed a few changes around here.
Leanne Gelish Studio is finally a creative studio embodying two things I love: marketing and photography.

In February, I lost my 9–5. And for the first time in a while, I had the space to ask myself what I really wanted next.

Since then, I’ve pieced things together the way most of us do during seasons of transition. I picked up different jobs to make ends meet; ones that reconnected me with my love of copywriting and creative strategy. I started Aunt Loretta’s Kitchen through New York’s SEAP program, which has become a joyful creative outlet—blending storytelling with salt and sauce. I cook, I go to the beach, I write in her voice; and for the first time in a while, it doesn’t feel like work.

And then, there’s photography.

Since March, I’ve been doing a few sessions a month. It’s been a quiet transition; no big announcement, just letting it come back on its own terms. And what’s wild is, it didn’t feel like I was picking something back up. It felt like I was being pulled back into the fold.

Balancing my old 9–5 with weekend shoots left me drained in ways I didn’t realize at the time. It was hard physically, yes, but even harder on my spirit. I felt like I wasn’t showing up to shoots with the same heart I once did. I didn’t have the space to look around and see beauty the way I used to. So I made what felt like the safe choice and put photography on the back burner.

But even when I wasn’t working with clients, I never stopped photographing.

My phone is filled with tiny moments: light hitting my kitchen table just right, my nieces mid-laugh, my dogs in sun patches. My hard drive could be a love letter to the mundane—architecture, shadows, and yes, probably an entire series on Marco’s beautiful spotted paws. The truth is, the pilot light never really went out. It just needed a moment.

I’ve been asked a few times over the past few months:
“Are you sure you’re back in photography?”

And the answer is a resounding yes.
Not a hesitant, toe-in-the-water yes. A full-body, all-heart YES.
Can you hear me shouting it from where you’re sitting?

Stepping away gave me clarity. Losing my job gave me time. And in that pause, I remembered that my dream job was always this: I’m a photographer. A storyteller. A creative director. And I want to keep telling stories—for people, for brands, and for all the quiet, beautiful in-between moments that deserve to be seen.

This life I’m building now? It’s exactly it.
Which is what Meg and Joe have given me—now twice—in my journey.

Back in May of 2018, I got an inquiry to photograph an elopement at Islip Town Hall. It was going to be quiet, intimate; just the couple and myself. Between family turmoil and too many outside opinions, Joe and Meg were ready to live their lives, their way.

I was nervous. It was only my fifth wedding, and Meg’s parents were both photographers. That inner voice that haunts all creatives—the one that says “what if I disappoint them?”—was loud that morning. But the second I met them, it all melted away. They were warm, easy, in love. They made space for me not just as their photographer, but as a witness.

We roamed around town hall, found quiet corners of beauty, and afterward, headed to a local park for a celebratory toast. It was the kind of day that reminded me why I fell in love with photography in the first place.

Over the last seven years, Meg and I have stayed in touch. If you ever peeped our Instagram DMs, you’d be hit with a flurry of Bravo and Love Island memes—that’s our love language. Five years ago, we did an anniversary shoot, but it’s been a minute since I’ve seen these two in person, so when Meg reached out again, I was ecstatic.

We decided to go back to Brookwood Hall Park to relive the day and make new memories. When I lived out east, this park was a permanent fixture in my location choices; I haven’t been back since I moved to Huntington. Funny how life changes, evolves, and somehow brings us back to our roots.

We spent two hours together. In between poses and little moments, we caught up on life and remembered that beautiful first day. We have so much in common, and I’m so grateful that all these years later, Meg and Joe have brought me home again. I’m especially grateful to Meg for reminding me how her wedding photos are the moments that get her through the hard times—and how she loves them more now than she did back then.

My style is the same, and yet it’s changed. A little less contrast-y (loved contrast seven years ago), and a little more rooted in real tones. A little darker, a little more subject-focused, but still uniquely me.

Stepping away gave me clarity. Losing my job gave me time. And in that pause, I remembered that my dream job was always this:
I’m a photographer. A storyteller. A creative director.
And I want to keep telling stories—for people, for brands, and for all the quiet, beautiful in-between moments that deserve to be seen.