I remember attempting a ‘365’ a couple of years back; 365 days, 365 posts. Boy was that hard. The professional bloggers seem to be able to trot posts out morning, noon and night. I’m not a professional writer and there’s a thorough discipline to ensuring you pen fresh thoughts on a daily basis. Hats off to those that can and do. A mere month of daily posts musing about the whys and wherefores of each photograph published, well, it’s been a healthy exercise, both artistically and cathartically. I hope as a reader you have enjoyed the short series. For me it’s focused my creative channels, particularly on the mornings I have written prior to photographing a wedding. So this last one in the series is about legacy. I know I use this word ‘legacy’ quite a lot. No, more than quite a lot. Simply, a lot. But this L word, well, it underlines my reason for photographing weddings. This feature has been a month of pictures about my relationship with the genre of wedding photographing. So I’d like to close May with a picture of grandparents finding a photograph of themselves taken on their own wedding day many decades previous. It had been placed on a display table by grandchildren tying the knot. The couple had worked hard to collate a collection of photographs from every married guest’s wedding day, which they would view as they entered the dining room that afternoon. I’d seen the table prior to the guests viewing it, so I’d already spotted the picture I really wanted to make. I was after a reaction or at the very least physical contact with their framed picture. And that couple is of course, the grandparents. I like to think that the pictures I make will one day serve as historical legacy. Legacy is, I think, my mantra. Sure, I’m not making photographs that will appear in Times magazine or ones that will change cultural thinking. I’m not collating a collection that will one day show at The Magnum Gallery. But I am creating many hundreds of private galleries, that will hopefully be viewed by generations with a vested interest in their family tree. That these pictures will live on long after I have finally depressed a shutter button, is quite an incredible privilege that I’m still not sure I completely comprehend.