I'm Connery Davoodian. I've spent 17 years photographing and filming weddings across Los Angeles, and Glendale is the single strongest market I work — because Glendale is the center of Armenian life in America, and Armenian weddings are their own world. They have an order. They have expectations from the family that nobody writes down and nobody explains to a vendor who wasn't raised near it. I've shot enough of them that I don't need the day explained to me, and I speak Armenian, so nothing said at the altar or during the toasts gets past me.

If you're marrying into the culture rather than born into it, this page is partly for you. I'll name the rituals plainly and tell you where they happen, because a photographer who doesn't know what comes next is the person standing in the wrong spot when the crowns come up.

The day I already know before you tell me

Most Glendale Armenian weddings I shoot start at the bride's family home. The groom's side arrives — often with a zurna and dhol, the reed pipe and drum that turn a driveway into an event — and there's a moment at the door where the bride's mother offers honey and a piece of lavash is draped over the couple's shoulders for sweetness and unity. This is chaos and joy at the same time, and it happens fast. I position for it before the cars pull up, not after. I get to the getting-ready location early on purpose; your photographer should arrive well before you're dressed, and at an Armenian home there's family energy to capture long before anyone's in a gown.

Then the church. This is where knowing the customs stops being a nicety.

The Psak: the crowning ceremony, and the rules inside the church

The Armenian Apostolic ceremony is the Psak — the crowning. The couple are treated as king and queen for the day. The priest chants the Sharagan hymns, crowns are held over or placed on the couple's heads, and the Kavor (the godfather of the wedding, a role of real honor) stands close, often holding the cross or the crowns and joining the couple's hands. There's the shared cup of wine, the tying of the couple together. It is solemn, it is sung, and it moves at the priest's pace, not yours.

Around Glendale I shoot inside the Apostolic churches regularly, including St. Leon Cathedral. Here's my blunt stance: a photographer who runs up the center aisle during the crowning, or who fires flash into the sanctuary, embarrasses your family and gets asked to step back by the deacon — and now they've missed the moment they were reaching for. I shoot these ceremonies quietly, from the sides, on fast glass in the available light. This is exactly why I lean on auto ISO the way I've set it for years: church interiors swing from dark nave to bright altar and I can't be fiddling while the crowns are up. Because I understand Armenian, I know from the chant when we're seconds from the crowning, the ring, the final blessing. I'm already in position.

The Glendale and Burbank halls I actually know

After the church, the reception. Armenian receptions in this area are big, loud, generous, and long. I know these rooms:

  • Anoush (the LA Banquets family, including the Landmark in nearby Mission Hills) — large capacity, long head tables, the kind of room built for 400-plus guests and a full band. I know where the light dies and where to put my own.
  • Glenoaks Ballroom in Glendale — a ballroom I've worked, and one where the entrance and dance floor timing matter a lot for coverage.
  • Brandview Ballroom, Renaissance, Impressions, Phoenicia in Glendale, Arbat, and Carousel — the halls Armenian families in this community book again and again. They share a rhythm: a dramatic grand entrance with the band, endless food service, and a dance floor that never really empties.

What these rooms have in common is low, warm, mood lighting and a lot of gold and mirror. That's beautiful and it's also a technical problem. I bring and control my own light so faces aren't lost to the room's uplighting. This is one of many reasons I run photo and film as one team rather than two separate vendors — my photographer and my cinematographer aren't fighting each other for the same three feet in front of you during the entrance, and the lighting we set serves both.

Kef bands, the shurjbar, and why the reception runs later than you think

The music is kef — live Armenian dance music, and the band drives the whole night. The shurjbar is the moment I never want a stranger shooting: the receiving line becomes a moving circle dance, guests filing past and dancing around the couple, money pinned or thrown, the floor packed shoulder to shoulder. If you don't know it's coming you shoot it from the wrong angle. I work it from inside the current.

Now the honest part nobody wants to say out loud: these receptions run late. Grand entrances often don't happen until well into the evening, the real dancing peaks near midnight, and the cake and bouquet can come after that. That's why I quote coverage hours honestly instead of optimistically. A package that has us packing up at 9:30 or 10:00 will leave your best dancing unshot. I build the timeline around when your night actually crests, not when a generic LA reception ends.

Frequently asked questions

Do you speak Armenian?

Yes. It matters more than couples expect. I follow the priest through the Psak so I'm ready for the crowning and the blessing, and I understand the toasts and the kenats so I capture the reaction as it lands, not a beat late. Older relatives relax around a photographer who can talk to them.

How many hours of coverage do we really need for an Armenian wedding?

More than a typical LA wedding. Between the home visit, the church, and a reception that peaks near midnight, most of my Glendale couples need full-day coverage. I'll look at your specific hall and band and tell you honestly, rather than sell you short hours and leave before the shurjbar.

Can you shoot inside St. Leon Cathedral and the other Apostolic churches?

Yes. I know how these sanctuaries want to be worked — no flash into the altar, no blocking the center aisle during the crowning, respect for the deacon's instructions. I shoot quietly from the sides in available light and still come away with the crowns, the cup, and the recessional.

Do you do both the photography and the video?

Yes — one team, under me. You're not coordinating two companies who've never met on the day. My photo and film crews plan the entrance, the Psak, and the shurjbar together so neither one ruins the other's frame.

If you're planning an Armenian wedding anywhere around Glendale, Burbank, or the Valley, let's talk through your church, your hall, and your band, and I'll tell you exactly how I'd cover it. Call or text (818) 749-7039 or reach me through the contact page.