Austin and Emily | Palazzo Avino wedding

There is a cat that lives somewhere in the gardens of Palazzo Avino, tabby-striped, thoroughly unbothered by weddings, and it spent a good portion of Austin and Emily’s afternoon asleep against a giant terracotta urn spilling over with white begonias. I photographed it because it refused to move even as a bride and groom in full wedding dress walked past a few meters behind it, and because sometimes the best frame in a gallery is the one that has nothing to do with the wedding at all. Ravello’s cats have their own schedule. Nobody had told this one there was a ceremony happening.

Emily’s father is the kind of man who deals with emotion by making everyone else laugh. He spent the entire morning of his daughter’s wedding walking around the suite with his phone out, taking “behind-the-scenes” photos of the makeup artist, the shoes, the view from the terrace, and anyone who stood still long enough. He narrated everything like a sports commentator. When Emily’s mother started crying while adjusting the veil, he turned to me and whispered, “Get that one, that’s the real shot.” He was right.

Austin and Emily came from Boston with the kind of grounded confidence that comes from people who know exactly what they want. They wanted a symbolic ceremony at Palazzo Avino with their families and close friends, a walk through Ravello after the vows, and dinner at Rossellini’s. No production, no theme, no color scheme decided months in advance. The venue and the food would set the tone. Everything else would follow.

The Suite, the Veil, and the Corridor

Emily got ready in a suite done in warm terracotta tones, round wall sconces glowing on either side of the headboard, a world away from the crisp white classical rooms this hotel is usually photographed in. Her mother and sister were with her, a tight circle that has been her foundation her entire life. The morning light in that room comes in diffused by the mountain mist that hangs in the valley until mid-morning, soft and even in a way that does not shift fast. You get a two-hour window of consistent, flattering light that does not change direction or intensity, which means I can work without chasing the sun across the room.

The moment with the veil was the image I came for. Emily’s mother standing behind her, lifting the lace, her face concentrated and tender, while Emily looked over her shoulder with a half-smile. It was not a posed shot. It happened in real time and lasted about four seconds. Down the hall, a different corridor altogether: three arched openings in burnt orange, hand-blown glass wall sconces in amber and green flanking each one like jewelry. Emily walked through it once in her dress, glancing back at me over her shoulder, and the color of those arches against the white fabric did more for the image than any studio lighting setup I own.

Austin in the Stone Corridor

Austin was downstairs in a different wing. The corridors at Palazzo Avino have a heavier feel than the suites: stone walls, lower ceilings, darker tones. I used that contrast deliberately. His portraits have a different register from Emily’s, more structured, more angular, the stone creating a masculine frame around his figure. He was calm in a way that surprised me. Most grooms show some nervousness by mid-morning. Austin was leaning against the wall reading something on his phone and looked up when I walked in and said, “Ready when you are.” We were done in ten minutes. Sometimes the simplest sessions produce the sharpest portraits.

The Symbolic Ceremony at Palazzo Avino

The ceremony was set up under a stand of olive trees on one of the Avino’s lawns, white chiavari chairs on the grass, the hotel’s pink facade visible through the branches, a young guitarist seated just off to the side playing quietly on an acoustic steel-string as guests took their seats. Symbolic ceremony, which meant Austin and Emily wrote their own vows and chose their own celebrant, a man in a dark suit who read from a small folder and clearly knew them both well enough to land every reference in the room.

Their vows were the kind that work because they were specific. Not generic promises about forever, but concrete references to their life in Boston: the apartment they found on a Tuesday, the restaurant where he proposed, the dog who ate the backup ring. The guests were laughing one sentence and crying the next. Emily’s sister could not get through her reading without stopping twice. Austin’s voice cracked once, at the line about Emily’s father, and then steadied.

In the front row, Emily’s parents sat exactly where you would expect them to: her father in a cream suit, her mother beside him in blue, both of them holding small bouquets of white roses and baby’s breath that had been handed out to immediate family before the processional started, a nice touch I don’t see often outside American weddings. A few of Emily’s friends further back kept their phones up through most of the vows, which normally I’d consider a distraction to work around, but at a wedding this relaxed it just became part of the texture: everyone documenting everyone else documenting the couple.

The Guitarist Under the Olives. I want to spend a moment on the musician, because he is easy to overlook in a gallery full of a bride and groom. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, dressed in a soft blue blazer that matched Austin’s suit almost by accident, and he played through the entire seating of the guests without once looking at sheet music. Steel-string acoustic, not amplified, just loud enough to carry across the lawn and quiet enough that conversation could still happen underneath it. When Emily appeared at the top of the aisle, he shifted into something slower without any visible cue, the kind of instinct you only get from having played dozens of these ceremonies before. I photographed him mid-note at least a dozen times over the course of the afternoon, because a wedding gallery that only shows the couple misses half of what actually made the day feel the way it did.

Close vs Wide. I shoot ceremonies from the periphery, moving around the group rather than standing in front of it. The moment Austin’s voice broke, I was at a 45-degree angle to his left, close enough to see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he pulled himself together. That frame, shot on a long lens with the blurred faces of the guests behind him, carries more of the ceremony than the wide shot of the terrace ever could. Wide shots show where you were. Close shots show what you felt, an approach I break down further on my Ravello wedding photographer page.

WEDDING IN RAVELLO

EMILIANO RUSSO

Ravello stands out as one of Italy’s most magical places for a sophisticated wedding celebration..

HIDDEN JEMS

Discover hidden spots in Ravello where your romance can truly shine.

RAVELLO IS SPECIAL

Experience an elegant ceremony alongside an immersive adventure along the Shore.

The White Arches, a Stone Ruin, and a Pink Lounge

After the ceremony, I took Austin and Emily through the internal halls of Palazzo Avino. The white ogival arches in the lobby area are the architectural signature of this building: Moorish-influenced, bright white against white walls, with the blue sea visible through each opening. I use these arches for almost every couple I photograph here, but the composition changes every time depending on the light, the clothing, and how the couple moves. With Austin and Emily, I placed them between two arches and stepped back far enough to include the balustrade and the upper gallery in the frame. The white architecture surrounded them like a stage set, the only color their skin and Austin’s blue suit against Emily’s dress.

We also found a rougher structure on the edge of the property, three arches in weathered, unpainted stone rather than smooth white plaster, a pair of terracotta urns overflowing with orange geraniums standing guard on either side. Emily stood inside the middle arch while Austin watched from a few meters back, out of focus in the foreground, and the effect is almost accidental, like I caught him seeing her rather than posed him seeing her. On the way back, we passed a small garden lounge I had never used before: dusty pink upholstered chairs and turquoise side tables arranged under a wisteria-covered pergola, a tiled bench built into a low stone wall. It photographs like a completely different hotel from the white-arch corridor, and I added it to the route specifically because it does.

I bring couples through three or four distinct backdrops within the same property for exactly this reason. Palazzo Avino is large enough, and varied enough in its architecture, that a single hotel can produce a portrait gallery that looks like it was shot across an entire town. Austin and Emily, coming from a city built mostly of brick and glass, kept commenting on how different each stop felt, as if we had actually driven somewhere between shots rather than walked two hundred meters.

Giardini Principessa di Piemonte

We walked from the hotel to the Princess Gardens, a public garden along Via San Giovanni del Toro that most tourists pass without entering. The gardens are planted with rosemary, bougainvillea, and roses, and the terrace at the far end looks east along the coast toward Maiori and Minori.

The timing was deliberate. We arrived as the direct sun was dropping behind the cliff above, which meant the garden fell into open shade while the coast below was still lit. That split, shaded foreground and sunlit background, creates a natural separation between the couple and the landscape that makes both look better. I shot Austin and Emily walking through the garden paths, then on the terrace railing with the lit coast behind them, and finally a close portrait with the bougainvillea overhead softening the remaining light into purple-tinted patches on their faces.

Rossellini’s

Dinner was at Rossellini’s, the Michelin-starred restaurant at Palazzo Avino. A terrace table overlooking the coast, candles, local flowers, and a menu built around Campanian seafood and the lemons that grow on the hillside below the hotel. The speeches were long in the American tradition, personal and detailed, the kind where the best man tells a story that makes the groom cover his face with his hands while the room falls apart laughing.

I shot the dinner without flash, on fast primes wide open, letting the candlelight and the warm interior tones of the restaurant do the work. The depth of field at f/1.2 is razor-thin, which means the eyes are sharp and everything behind them dissolves into circles of warm light. The images from Rossellini’s have a different quality from the ceremony or the portraits: softer, warmer, more intimate. They look like what the evening felt like, which is always the goal.

Emily’s father gave the final toast. He read from an index card, lost his place twice, gave up on it halfway through, and just talked about watching Emily grow up, which ended with something about Austin that made Emily put her head on her husband’s shoulder and stay there for a full minute while the table applauded. I got the frame. The flash stayed off. The candles were enough.

The First Dance Under the Awning

Later, back near the entrance courtyard, a striped coral-and-cream awning stretched over the herringbone brick patio, framed photographs from the guests propped on a little round table nearby, a handful of tropical plants in terracotta pots crowding the edges. Austin and Emily danced there, slow and a little clumsy the way most first dances are, guests gathered loosely around the edges with phones half-raised. It is a smaller, quieter scene than the ceremony or the dinner, and it closes the gallery on exactly the right note: not the grand terrace view, not the Michelin dinner, just two people dancing badly and happily under a canvas roof at the end of a long day.

By the time I packed up my gear, most of the guests had drifted toward the courtyard with drinks in hand, and the cat from the garden had reappeared, unbothered as ever, threading between chair legs like it owned the place. In a way, on a night like that one, it did. Some venues need elaborate decor to feel alive. Palazzo Avino mostly just needs the people already living there, human or otherwise, to keep doing what they always do.

Planning a Symbolic Wedding at Palazzo Avino

Austin and Emily’s day is the template for a symbolic wedding at Palazzo Avino: the ceremony on one of the terraces, portraits in the Princess Gardens, dinner at Rossellini’s. Here is what to know if you are planning something similar, alongside the wider range of options in our complete guide to a wedding in Ravello.

The ceremony location within the hotel depends on your guest count and the time of year. For groups under 30, the lower terrace near the garden is the most intimate option. For groups of 30 to 60, the main terrace overlooking the coast handles the chairs and the view without crowding. The hotel provides the setup: chairs, a table for the celebrant, and a floral arrangement at the ceremony spot. If you want additional floral decor, your planner coordinates with a local florist. The ceremony itself is officiated by a celebrant you choose or one the hotel recommends. The script is entirely customizable. Austin and Emily wrote their own vows and had a friend read a passage. The celebrant tied it together. Total duration: about twenty minutes.

Rossellini’s for the Dinner

Rossellini’s seats up to 30 for a private dinner. If your guest count is larger, the hotel can set up the terrace dining area for groups of up to 60, with the same kitchen preparing the menu. The wine list is selected by the hotel’s sommelier and leans heavily on Campanian producers, with particular strength in Fiano di Avellino and Aglianico. The per-person cost for a multi-course dinner at Rossellini’s is higher than at non-Michelin venues, but the quality difference is measurable and shows in the photos: beautifully plated food on a candlelit terrace produces detail shots that couples actually print and display.

For couples who want to include live music, a solo guitarist, violinist, or a small acoustic duo works on the terrace without amplification. The sound carries naturally off the stone walls and the railing, and the guests are close enough that the music does not need to compete with the wind. Austin and Emily hired a guitarist who played quietly through the seating and the processional, and the sound of a single instrument against the open sky and the distant sea below is the kind of acoustic experience that a hotel ballroom with a full band cannot replicate.

One logistical note. The walk from the hotel to the Princess Gardens takes about three minutes on foot along Via San Giovanni del Toro. I recommend building 40 minutes into the timeline for the garden session between the ceremony and dinner. This gives me enough time to work through the garden paths, the terrace railing, and the bougainvillea arch without rushing the couple or delaying the first course. Emily changed from ceremony heels to comfortable sandals for the walk, which I recommend to every bride who plans a portrait session involving cobblestones. It is a small, unglamorous detail that almost nobody mentions in advance, and it saves more wedding-day photos than any lighting decision I make.

The Palazzo Avino venue page covers the terraces, Rossellini’s, costs, and how the evening works.

Write to me if Palazzo Avino is where you want to be.