I was doing a little photographic research today and looking through my back catalogue of images when I happened across this one! I still mentally dance a little inside when I find photographs such as this, the type that a guest may not creatively see to photograph or indeed with a compact certainly be quick enough to capture; the very reason behind my purpose for being commissioned as ‘the professional.’

It’s a true ‘unseen’ wedding photography moment from this wedding at Horwood House in Buckinghamshire, though I suspect the bride has clocked something may be happening.  There’s a trademark grit to the post processing too which draws attention to the boy’s plight; to get that present back to his table at all costs! He made it by the way, albeit as a  comically strangely poised walk.

Writing this in the frosty midst of February it seems a while since I last felt the warmth of sunshine on my lens in quite the same fashion as this photograph promotes. A few years back I would have fought to balance this exposure with an unhealthy return of strobe, but times have changed.

It’s often suggested by well meaning conversational guests at a wedding that digital has in some way replaced the necessity to either understand the technical mechanics of photography and exposure in particular, or even the very requirement for a professional photographer to be gainfully employed for my kind of vocation. Of course most guests wouldn’t think to phrase it that way, but this is in essence what they mean.

It’s difficult to explain composition, exposure, angles and shooting style to somebody who believes that their mate with digtal SLR, kit lens and licence to machine gun the shutter button until the battery has run flat has got all the skills required to shoot these never to be repeated events. Let’s take light; one, just one element of the photographic medium that seems irrelevant when a guest photographer flicks the auto button. Over exposing a capture but retaining a rich characterful sky whilst using the strong directional light to fill this bride’s veil, linked with a camera angle that promotes urgency, is not exactly high on the agenda for a guest to cover off and consider.

Photography does involve forethought and skilled understanding, still. Post processing (like printing) is a skill too, but get it right in camera, and your shots will be equally, if not more potent. I’m quick to point out to a guest that photography is still a vocational skill. There are many things I can do, but I’d not be so quick to set my stall out as an expert. “I can cook an omelet,” I say to such well meaning guests; “But I’m no Marco Pierre White or Jamie Oliver. I can drive a car, but Alonso, I am not.”

I can’t remember who I’m quoting here, but I do remember the words. Owning a camera does not make you a photographer, it makes you a camera owner.

Oh, a chance to quote. Mahatma Gandhi once said; ” I believe in equality for everyone, except reporters and photographers.” I don’t think I ever expected to be quoting the preeminent leader of Indian nationalism within this blog, but it seems a good way to begin this journal piece. I’m primarily a documentary photographer at weddings, so my goal, my task, is to capture record shots where you need to professionally pry a little. Usually that of course is a balancing act; a mix of subtlety and trained ardor, but however you do it, sooner or later, and usually in the name of humour – somebody gets caught off guard.

Generally guests expect to be photographed at weddings, although the wedding photographer will inevitably be the one person you try to avoid when your mouth is full of volovant, or you’re nabbing your third G&T within half an hour. And actually usually volovant munching guests are not on my hitlist of ‘must have shots.’ I am yet to capture my award winning shot of; ‘Man eating chicken.’ But sometimes, the devil inside me seems to know which characters you can expect to react with charitable humour. These aren’t award winners per sae, but they do underline that a little photographic prodding can produce some humorous pictorial exchanges.

Here’s a wedding photograph captured at Wasing Park last year, a somewhat warmer day than of late. It’s a simple family composition featuring a bride with her mother and father. I spend a reasonable amount of time at weddings insisting that the waves do not part for the photographer. Most guests have this innate fear of blocking a photographer’s viewpoint.

During the documentary part of a day, I position myself purposely behind people, particularly in a scene such as this. The guest photographers are as much a part of the day as the main subjects themselves, they’re a part of the day. I’d expect one of the guests at some stage to apologise and gesture me through, though I’ll refuse and proffer that they’re actually framing the shot beautifully. Usually I’ll get a bemused look and then I’m forgotten. Perfect. Click.

A piece of advice that was handed to me a while back that I now in baton like fashion briskly pass to new reportage wedding photographers, is to give the odd shot or two away. Gift a shot, now and then. Strictly speaking of course a true photojournalist does not alter the day or set formal compositions for capture in any way. I can’t truly remember whether the pose above was set by me, though I suspect looking at the composition, there was a chance; I naturally shape bodies in towards the middle of a group, set best foot forward and so on. Then I may retreat back through the ‘crowd’ of photographers I happily invite to stand alongside me. This is the result. A documentary moment from an otherwise formal opportunity.

This wedding photograph, captured at Wasing Park in Berkshire works for me on so many levels; it’s a worthy inclusion in this year’s catalogue series. I scan across the picture and it seems that the term documentary wedding photograph is perfect for this kind of capture.

Yes, our groom is indeed emotionally floored by the arrival of his bride, but it’s equally the background cast members that breathe spirit into this capture; I can count four direct emotional connections being made by guests behind the couple. There’s a busy nature to this picture and it’s one of those photographs that for me, invites you to take a closer look.

I think this may be the first catalogue photograph within my annual features not collated from a day shooting an actual wedding event. It’s number 33 in this year’s series and it features the team on the print floor at GF Smith Photomount, the ones responsible for the story book style wedding albums I present to clients. There’s a back office team too, of that I’m very aware, but this group shot (see I do shoot group portraits) demonstrates something I think is very important to realise. Wedding albums don’t go in a machine at one end as computer files, emerging at the other end as a boxed product ready to be shipped within 15 minutes.

I’ve spent two days filming in Hull this week at the impressive plant owned and operated by GF Smith, a paper company that has been established for over a century. I like that heritage. It’s positively British, I like that too. I’ve been working on a short film that’ll be released soon on this site about how an album is produced. It’ll be condensed into a 120 seconds piece and it’ll show how integral the human eye and creative input is when working on a hand made album.

From print to crop and guillotine, score, crease, compile, bake (yes bake), binding and cover application, it’s a process that undoubtedly makes this a truly hand crafted piece. I’m an advocate of albums, even though sometimes the digital files are all a client really requests or desires. I say in my promotional film “180 Seconds” that of all the things I now own that were once the property of my late mother and father, their wedding album is the most precious. Albums are a legacy purchase. I doubt my mum and dad would ever have realised just how important their album would be to their son, but it most certainly is.

So, look hard at the team above. They create the legacy. I may capture the photographs, but that’s just the start of this creative journey.