Category Archive: Wedding photojournalist
Craig and Liz – Notley Abbey wedding photography
Here’s one I’ve been meaning to post for a while, and it’s as much a mention too for wedding photojournalism and what it is, or can be. A good wedding photographer friend of mine sums it up sweetly; observation not orchestration. It’s nigh on impossible to be purist about our ‘sport.’ Sooner or later someone will ask or expect me to orchestrate a group shot or I’ll ask the bride and groom to simply hold hands for a portrait. Then my cloak of PJ invisibility shreds itself. I just mention this because of late, and following my article in Professional Photographer magazine about church coverage, I’ve exchanged a number of mails with fellow togs about working as a documentary wedding photographer and what that actually means to me. I use many terms to describe my work and yes, I do use wedding photojournalist as it’s a phrase championed by wedding magazines; so I embrace it for search term reasons. In reality though I’m a documentary photographer. If you will, I have a ‘light touch’ on the day. I do help arrange a handful of portraits because when the dust settles and the cake becomes crumbs, this is what is left. This is the legacy of the wedding. Only a small percentage of my work requires any orchestration, and even then I’ll work in my described professionally brisk method, as I want key members of the bridal party to get back to the main event. This is after all a wedding day, not a photo shoot. So, the photographs within this post demonstrate my creative take on the subject of docu-coverage. Notley Abbey, sublime venue, superbly charged atmosphere of excitement, a bride and groom who desired some portraits, but equally wanted to relish time with their friends. Craig, Liz, what a day!
Michael and Natalie – Warbrook House wedding photography
“Hello Neale, I’m Bob.” All wedding videographers are called Bob. There are a handful of exceptions of course, as equally I’ve worked alongside WVs called Barry, Jeff, Mark, Danny and Julie. But in the main, they’re called Bob. Fact. This Bob looked pretty proficient behind his four cameras, and equally proficient hoovering up the canapes and champers. And thus the good humoured banter commenced. (Reference the ‘Bob hoovering’ image if you click more.) Humour was order of the day, and in a second factual revelation; that’s usually the case when a fair proportion of the congregation come from the Emerald Isle. Hosted at Warbrook House, a pretty Georgian country house hotel on the Berks and Hants border near Hook, most guests, and I’ll include myself, seemed to sport an inane grin for the day. This was a wedding that had a smile. It also had a Bob.
Silchester House wedding photographer | Steph and Chris
“It’s been almost eight years since I fell in love with you. And if I could go back and tell my seventeen year old self that I would marry you, I think I would just about die of happiness. As I read these vows, I know that before me stands a man who has captured my heart with all his brilliant light. I promise you all my heart’s devotion, and a hand to hold yours through each tomorrow. I promise to love you in good times and in bad, with all I have to give, completely and forever, in sunshine and shadow. I promise I will laugh with you, not just at you, and to make your dreams as important to me as my own. I promise to bake you lots of brownies, and to always kiss you good bye before you go to work. You are my pillar of strength, my soul’s fire. I love you.”
Queen’s Eyot wedding photography | Dan and Steph
In workflow terms, on the day, for me it works thus. Photograph wedding, return home, consume tea, download images, consume tea, catalogue images, consume more tea, blog a little, consume even more tea etc and so on. I’ll admit an element of distraction the evening of this one however. It was the night of Saturday 6th August and something rather brutal was festering in North London. Listening to it unfold on the radio as I drove home rather stalled the process of blog composition. And so only now do I get the opportunity to enthusiastically wax lyrical about a fabulous island called Queen’s Eyot (pron ‘eight.’) A four acre island on the Thames just upstream from Windsor, QE is a quintessentially English clubhouse, built for Eton rowers to enjoy the fruits of their physical labour, more latterly shared with couples keen to underline the word exclusive in venue terms. For you can’t get more exclusive than a venue where the only way of getting there is via a ferry. Flowers by Stubbings of Maidenhead, pipes by James MacPherson and dress by… Mum. Fabulous.










