A Wedding Later
One spring morning I got a call from someone I know. They got a question for me, a question I needed quite some time to think through. Not just once, but thrice: "Would you like to be our wedding photographer?".
I am sure you have already figured out that I did indeed say yes, as both the title of this blog post and the photo above suggests. However, it was not easy to say yes from a personal point of view as I normally shoot immovable objects; or at least not things that move when asked.
I have in fact a while now, even before this wedding, been having the idea to get myself in to the world of portrait photography and sought inspiration from a few photographers. I am still very in to this idea, and every time I get the opportunity to refine that skill of photographing people, I do so. So why did I hesitate this time?
A wedding is one of the most important days in one's life. It is a day you want to remember the best from, even though it might rain, the cake might taste awful or you end up with your new wife in a small basement sports-bar (yes, I did). No matter what happen, you want to memorialise that very moment you and your partner say yes to each other. So what was I suppose to do there? I, who can barely remember what I had for breakfast!
I am in a learning curve when it comes to direct, and talk to the people I am photographing and tell them how, and where I want to have them. As mentioned in the beginning of this post: I normally shoot immovable objects. This is something I get better at each time, but I do feel like I could need a bit more practising; so if you're up to model, why not write to me?
Yet I normally shoot with primes, a zoom lens did surely come in handy even though it was a small venue. My 70-200 f2.8 GM did really come in handy this time, and I must say I will have to rethink whether I should keep it or not when I get myself an 85mm.
I find it fascinating that people who have been together for many years can still behave, and look like they are a teenage couple who has just fallen in love for the first time; and with this I wish to give my greatest congratulations to the couple.
I am honoured that I got asked to participate in this very special day, and that I got asked to memorialise it with my camera, and my skill.
(The couple have asked to be anonymous until later this summer when the rest of the photos from the venue will be published).
A travelogue from fife
This is my very first attempt on writing a travelogue, so bare with me.
Where to begin...
Maybe with a jacket from 1927 — that’s where this journey to Scotland, and Fife, really began. Or maybe with something more expected, the way most travel stories from Scotland begin: "I arrived on a rainy and damp evening."
Maybe with a jacket from 1927 — that’s where this journey to Scotland, and Fife, really began. Or maybe with something more expected, the way most travel stories from Scotland begin: "I arrived on a rainy and damp evening."
I had two aims in mind for this journey; one to explore Fife with a dear friend, and the other to expand my knowledge in shooting the Scottish landscape.
The photo you see above was taken in the small village of Strathmiglo on an early morning just after a night with continuous raining, and it was an attempt by me to include both the fence and pathway in the foreground, the houses in the middle ground and the hills in the background. Did it work out as I wanted? Not quite. A few steps further, and I managed to capture a photo with more balance.
As the day progressed I headed towards a place I had already decided to take a look at. This kind of preparing is something I often do before I visit a place; looking for spots on Google Maps in order to find possible photo locations. Luckily for me, the farmer was just heading out with his crop sprayer which added a pinch of contrasting colour to the photos.
A subject I have learnt to love are sheep.
The first time I took photos of sheep was on Lismore last summer, while taking part in the MacDougall gathering in Oban, on the West Coast. This time, however, I was out on a windy walk around Balvaird Castle with my friend when we encountered these sheep (and pylons!). My first thought was that I should have brought my 70-200mm to get a close-up shot of the sheep, but I soon realised that my 50mm will do just as much justice. This was surely not the last time I would encounter sheep on this trip.
As mentioned above: we took a walk around the historic site of Balvaird Castle. Windy it was, and cold hands I got! Plenty of history on that site, and a typical Scottish tower house laying on top of a hill. Not only did we explore the castle, but its surrounding areas. Rolling hills, sheep and a few houses.
On our way up to the castle, we met a fellow photographer. I am not quite certain what he was capturing, but he told us to walk by the castle to see the backside of it; and so we did. I did take a photo of the view from the back, and I was lucky enough to have a glimpse of sunlight shining on the trees in the background.
The question remains: will a photo of a castle outlive the castle itself?
For more information about the castle, and how to get there, please press here.
Is a visit to the Kingdom of Fife even complete without a stop at both Falkland and St. Andrews, one may ask. Not quite, I can assure you.
Falkland is a small picturesque village which was portrayed as Inverness in the famous TV-show Outlander. The village is full of quirky roads, cottages and even a palace. The village also has a small framing shop which we visited, as my friend needed to have a print framed. Turned out they were to open a small, modern, gallery just days after I left. What a shame I missed the opening, but yet another reason to go back.
It is hard to sum up a journey in a single post, especially one filled with quiet moments, unexpected conversations, and light that shifted with every passing hour.
From castle ruins and misty mornings to sunlit hills and silent coastlines, Fife offered more than I expected. Not just in landscape, but in people. Almost every encounter was marked by warmth: a chat on a trail, a wave from a passing driver, someone offering directions before I even asked. There is a friendliness here that feels effortless. Genuine. And perhaps that is what stays with me the most. The ease of connection. The gentle pace. The sense that this is a place that does not need to prove anything, it simply is.
I came here with a camera and a few loosely formed plans. I leave with a full memory card, a quieter mind, a friendship that will last till the ends of days, and a passing thought that may not pass so easily: I could live here. A small cottage, maybe. Something with moss on the roof and light coming in from the east.
For now, it is just a thought. But like the Fife coast itself, it lingers.