What actually works at a Kizu wedding.

The moment a guest confirms they're coming, loop them into Kizu — a link in your RSVP confirmation or on the wedding website that gets them signed up in one tap. By the time the wedding arrives, your whole guest list is already in. No fumbling with QR codes on bad venue wifi. No "hang on, let me make an account" during the toasts. Bonus: they've probably already peeked at your Our Story album.

Table cards, yes. Also: the bathroom mirror in the getting-ready suite, the bar, the photo booth, the card box. Not: the program (nobody keeps programs past cocktail hour).

Early in every event — rehearsal dinner, ceremony welcome, reception opening, brunch — have your MC, DJ, or best man make a short announcement: "Grab your phone, scan the QR on your table, sign up in one tap, and share what you shoot tonight." Each event is a fresh chance to catch anyone who hasn't joined yet. The guests who already have will take it as a cue to empty their camera roll into the album.

Once at cocktail hour: "Look behind the DJ — that's you." Once during the toasts: "Got a great shot from today? Put it on the wall." Two mentions is the difference between 200 uploads and 2,000. Assign it to your MC or best man. Don't rely on signs.

• Cocktail hour — Story Mode (quiet, warm, gives the room something to look at while people find their seats)
• Dinner — Mix Mode (keeps things alive without stealing attention from toasts)
• Dance floor open — Live Mode (full-bleed, fast, the wall becomes part of the party)

Your photographer will deliver the posed portraits. Kizu is where the unplanned stuff lives — the hug that caught someone off-guard, the dog under the table, the exact second your uncle saw the dessert bar. Tell your guests: we don't want "good," we want real.

Your dad crying during the vows is a better photo than the vows themselves. The flower girl watching the first kiss is a better photo than the kiss. The keepers are almost always of someone watching the moment, not the moment itself. Seat someone emotionally invested across from the action and let them shoot.

The entrance. The toast punchline. The first dance spin. Nobody thinks to take video at weddings anymore. The couples who remind guests once — "videos are welcome, shoot short, we love them" — get some of the best content in the album.

You want uploads, not downloads. Guests will download later — on the Monday-after coffee break, when they want to find their photo of themselves. That's the natural moment. During the reception, they just want to scan and go.

You'll miss the moment staring at your phone. No one is going to screenshot a blurry photo from the Live Wall and ruin your marriage. Moderate on Tuesday. If you ever need to — which you probably won't.

You get one upload album per event, on purpose. Let the photos pile in chronologically. Curate later, with coffee, with perspective. The album that tries to sort itself during a wedding fights the wedding.