Since God died, marriage has come into the cultural possession of those that swear by the promise of proof and trade in the virtues of evidence.
Clever souls, and not without a sense of good taste. They, for the most part, like the way old marriage looked on the outside while carefully filleting out all the bits that got in the way.
I do not subscribe to the new plan but have some sympathy with the atheist.
If this is all there is and only the abyss of darkness awaits then stuff like love and spending a life with someone needs careful and calculated navigation.
The social contract, it must be negotiated one step at a time.
My turn, your turn. You do, then I do. Proof. Evidence. That you love me.
It’s only fair.
“We’re in love, of course, yes! But… you could do better in bed, and tidy it occasionally. And are you going to put on weight? No. But what if you do?
You spend a lot. More than you appreciated. In fact I think we should split it all down the middle. And visit my family this Christmas yours is annoying. If she, your mother, mentions marriage one more time... We haven’t even got a house, which I think should be in my name since you’re deciding furniture.
Three bedrooms means only two kids, right?
We’ll get married when all the important things are sorted.
Anyway… poor atheists. It’s not easy.
They’ve always got divorce in case anyone is fooled into believing vows should be taken seriously.
Being good for your word. Romantic wishful thinking!
Love is practical.
Love is compromise.
It does not jump without looking.
Love keeps a record of wrong,
but can amend it with a right.
Love looks out for itself.
Love can keep a secret to keep its idea alive
but can also move out and start again.
and not look back.
Personally I advocate the old way.
Much less complicated. Much more chemistry. The stuff of poetry.
It begins in a similar way.
A man, of free mind observes a lovely lady.
So taken is he that he summons the courage to ask her in person to spend some time with him.
The woman is moved by the bravery and accepts the courteous offer.
They are both of the understanding that there is no sex before marriage, no moving in together. It’s how they were raised.
Unburdened by these matters they come to enjoy each others company above all others. Many remark on it.
The man in gratitude of the lady’s parents makes a quiet appearance at their home. He asks the father if he might have permission to ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
His courage and respect move the father seeing much of his own youth in the man he puts aside his misgivings. He is a judge of character enough to know he will treat her right, never leave her, make himself a part of the family she is from.
Forsaking all others, till death do us part, in sickness & in health…
They could not be happier.
Anyway. Look, I prefer these weddings.
Hard to find maybe. But I’m a believer.
Black and white photography.
Seems old as rainbows.
The brother of radio.
The most simple solution.
Where there is doubt let black and white bring peace.
Where there are terrible colours (but great composition) let black and white bring hope.
For it is in seeing that we consider
and in considering that we apply the B&W software thoughtfully.
So that the photo might be given a life of generations in the family.
This was a venue I really liked. A place suited to those that have a feeling for vibes, wear waistcoats with the buttons undone and jeans that span two decades.
It was dimly lit with the ever more popular atmospheric bulbus shaped tungsten bulbs.
It looks great to the human eye but is a nightmare for cameras.
When there is not enough light to light a scene the software in the camera makes up what it thinks there should be. This makes for bad photos.
In the digital world this ‘making it up’ is called ‘noise’.
In the old film world it would be called ‘grain’.
Guess which is the romantic looking one?
All sorts of manufacturers will claim that their camera can pull a bright rabbit out of a dark hat. It’s all bollocks to be honest. There’s no substitute for light.
That’s where the off camera flash comes in. On this occasion I screwed my flash on to the end of a boom pole, pointed it a the ceiling (which very low) and let the light reflect of it on to light nearby subjects. It meant I kept the atmospheric backgrounds.
Buster Mantis is the name of the venue.
Photographic film is in my mind often associated with people that begin sentences 'Back in my day...' or 'Before all this...' despite these obstacles it does have a look that digital photography dreams about.
Film is human and idiosyncratic and magical, digital is robotic and sterile.
A sunset verses midday.
Friday verses Monday.
Poor new digital, owning so much but never truly happy.
Anyway clever people in America are often coming up with ways for digital photos to emulate, and that really is the right word, the film look.
Because there are lots of different film types there are lots of film looks.
The photos here are from software emulating a Kodak film stock using a method called pushed process.
I really like it.
Maybe not to everyone's taste & It's not one for every occasion.
I don't think I'd like it if it was.
In time I'll branch out.
'Available light' photographers usually means they are an available light photographer or that they do not like having anything to do with using a flash, or even worse, more than one flash. It's a position that courts appreciation, the learning curve can be steep.
Weddings especially make a demand on all the skills. Not least because there's almost never enough light and because without some addiotnal flash bang there's a movie style imagery that you're going to miss out on.
Sung to the tune of
“Food Glorious Food!”
Groups, glorious groups!
Staged, formal or candid.
While you're in the mood
Smile if it looks natural
No blinking or sniffing
Hands up if you want to!
Odd looking groups!
Maybe because everyone's clothes are as clean as they're going to get or maybe it's my charming wares but rocking up seems to be the time to get some great snaps of those nearest and dearest.
The day before a friend’s wedding in Cornwall. A morning walk through cramped streets, along stony beaches, a quiet sea and overcast sky.
All the right conditions to tell children stories and for grown ups to drink before twelve.
So we did.