As a female photographer, the general public seems to assume that my goal in life is to shoot weddings and newborns. That’s not me – I don’t want to capture the “high points” in life because somebody else – and probably a good 10 somebody else’s – are already doing that. I’m interested in the in-between moments – the every day miracles and moments of beauty. But if I’m at my brother’s wedding on a gorgeous October day with beautiful foliage and insane late afternoon light – I’m going to shot that, too.
Even then, I didn’t go in for the close up portrait – in fact, I put my 100mm lens away and that’s something that I almost never do. All of the guests are probably doing that, too – that look on my brother’s face WAS priceless when he saw his bride walking down the aisle – but I want what nobody else is getting. And for me, that was light. From my spot in the front row on the groom’s side, I was just barely off centered to the ceremony itself, but it gave me something else – a near perfect shot of the bride as she glowed in the afternoon sunlight. I could have brightened the shadow, but that’s what the wedding photographers are for. Rather than run from the light, I focused on it.
I’m borrowing the title for this post from a Western Mass photo exhibit that I may or may not decide to contribute to. After all, what are photographers but people who chase light?
My younger brother got married on Saturday. I am completely over-joyed about this; I adore his wife and she’s been a member of our family for years, it’s nice to make it “official.” We drove my brother to the ceremony so were there super early which gave me a chance to spend some time photographing with my 100mm macro lens before the guests started to arrive. It was early in the afternoon, but this time of year the light begins to fade quickly here in New England.
When we got there around two, we helped to bring the boxes of booze into the hall that would be used for hors d’oeuvres and dancing later that night. Somebody had already set up the table for after dinner drinks and it sat momentarily abandoned in the afternoon sunlight.
Anything that feelings foreign to my Western Mass sensibilities
The husband and I wandering around Old Montreal for a couple of hours the other day. Finally I had found a part of the city that felt old, really, truly, old. Not of this world old. We wandering in and out of tourist shops, pretended that we were maple tourists (how can you be when you’re from New England?), searched for gifts for our friends, and tried to find the perfect view of Basilique Notre-Dame de Montréal.
And then we happened upon a restaurant called Jardin Nelson. It’s open air front was filled to the bring with garden boxes that looked like they had been left to grow just a little bit wild. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to believe that these gardenscapes are pouring out of the building itself and that it is in fact overrun by nature.