The Wedding Photographer...

I've been getting into photography lately. Even won a Holiday Photo Contest with this simple image:


Anyway, I came across this hilarous (because you just know it's true) bit of advice for someone wanting to take photos at a wedding:

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So they asked you to shoot a wedding....

Thank THEM for their thinking of you in THEIR hour of need (this should be a clue and bells should be going off) You have ventured into one of Life's little Minefield's... Let me explain. A wedding is a sacred Feminine driven emotional roller coaster of a ride.

For the past six or eight months minute but deadly drops of Feminine correctness have flowed from a group of related females toward a common goal of producing a show. (Cue the music "That's

Entertainment") for another group of individuals called friends and relatives.

This distinguished group has planned and tested their ideas and patience, searched for: the Minister, the Church, the Dress, the Bridesmaid's Outfits, the Groom's Outfits, the Rings, the Reception Hall, the Food caterer plus the little things like the Limousine, and the Flowers

One has assumed the role of The Producer (mother of the bride) the Director (usually a favorite aunt with a lot of money) the Sound Technician (the girl from school who barely made the chorus singing "the Wedding Song") and the soon to be sacrificial Cameraman, that's you.

Oh did I forget the future mother-in-law? You see she hasn't really been accepted into the tribal club yet.... But sooner or later her .02 cents will be made known, just let something go wrong.

(She's sometimes seen as the one with the ring of chicken heads worn proudly around her neck with a hatchet in her right hand) You are the only participant not part of the tribe yet with the deepest newfound responsibility. Think of yourself as being amongst Helen of Troy, Athena, Diana, Oprah and the Mother-in -Law

During this preparation process, the concerted input has come from generations of social faux-pas called weddings, and whoever says, "mistakes can be repeated" should change it to "mistakes will be repeated, just a little differently". Fact is with a sixty- percent failure rate in marriages who could argue they are more than a misguided social custom? Many of these guidelines have been created based on religious training, community expectations, ethnicity, and this sparks a little interfamily feuding mixed with petty jealousies. This tends to rise to the surface, and one thing goes wrong and you will see the water rise very quickly. And the mother-in-law owns the only fireboat in the harbor.

The testosterone crew on the other hand has responded with fun, games and parties, lots of beer and the battle cry of the male genre "Just tell me where to stand, please fix my tie, just tell me when do I have to be there and where's the beer!" In addition the soon to be King has been told by his advisors..."just wait, she'll change, they all do".

Now it gets interesting, as the day gets closer, the emotional level rises, fueled by.... You guessed it, that cycle of chemical imbalances that leads to insecurity. What, or who did we forget?

Misgivings about what was ordered, the Bride just put on two pounds and the dress is too tight, the list is endless. All complicated by a factor of the three, four...or five little inputs.

Aha!, The day of the Wedding, everything has come to a head and everyone is scurrying around with last minute details.... and then it happens...The Union steps in and proclaims " you are not the Director, you are not the Producer, nor is anyone else in command".

You are all ACTORS and ACTRESSES in this social extravaganza and now you have your own part to play. There's no one in command! In a moment of time all the planning is forsaken and the real rites of passage begin.

The one left standing alone is the photographer and he has to walk you through the whole mess. That's what a good professional photographer, practiced, confident, backed up with several cameras, knowledge, and battle hardened can provide. It's like a Broadway musical and the music conductor quits opening night and the kid, usually a Mickey Rooney type comes flying out of the audience, saying "let ME lead the band, I took Clarinet in High School". This only works in Hollywood.

I wish you well!

Alan Jacobs

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