Wedding photographer Berkshire » natural light photography

A holiday romance, my Leica on hols in Menorca

nealejames — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 07:40:47 +0000

Stepping aside from weddings for just one mo. As a confirmed DSLR user (this post’s for the togs) had someone suggested a year back that I would enjoy the challenges proffered by a digital camera body featuring a chip that suffers magenta colour cast, no autofocus, a viewfinder with inaccurate framelines (no through the lens technology), painfully short battery life, green ghosting and noisy high ISO above 640, I would have thrown an icy stare that could freeze the Bay of Biscay. Oh, and add to that the cost. This isn’t a cheap camera. Even purchased second hand, brand new flagship Canon and Nikon DSLR bodies are only marginally more expensive. But, boy, this historical rangefinder with updated innards feels good. There’s something very comforting about operating a camera system revered by Cartier-Bresson, Winogrand, Capa and Arbus. See, there’s a traditionalist in me that happily accepts the technical foibles of the digital Leica rangefinder. The Leica M8, not the most up to date of the brand’s digital rangefinder family, superseded by the M9 which addresses many of the reported colour issues and ISO boundaries. It’s been my choice of recreational digital camera since the turn of the year and I have to say, I’m lovin’ it! There’s a satisfying clunk, an initial unhealthy conversion rate, a retro look that leaves the boys clutching grip laden top notch SLRs sniggering with disdain for something only the historically literate would truly appreciate. It’s sadly true that Leica bodies are also the playthings of collectors that will never allow one out of it’s box. I’ll romanticise that this is like an E Type. It doesn’t belong boxed up or in a museum. It needs to be out on the open road exploring and discovering. So for the togs amongst us musing about shooting rangefinder stylee, rent one and try it for a week. I think the uncompromising behaviour of this tool will, if you’ll pardon the pun, focus your creative journey. For me, there’s an air of reinvention when this is in your kit bag. It slows you down, forces you to think composition composition composition. It stops this serial inane machine gunning that has crept into photography. It’s not for everyone granted and neither should it be. But hell, is it fun.

Notley Abbey wedding photography

nealejames — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 06:17:37 +0000

I’ve become adept at capturing portraits professionally yet briskly during this cold snap. I always suggest to brides (and grooms) that they won’t necessarily feel the cold, the adrenalin covers that aspect of physiology. But in temperatures that have hugged the sub zero mark for most of my early 2010 weddings, my suggestion is always; keep the group portraits list tight. Your guests will love you for it! Some images from Richard and Fleur’s Notley nuptials, just prior to a grand shopping trip to New York.

Notley Abbey wedding photography

nealejames — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 14:04:07 +0000

The estate agent introducing Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh to Notley Abbey must have known he’d secured the sale even before Sir Larry turned the medieval key in the gothic door of this historic pile. Now THIS, is what I call a driveway. If the travellers come knocking offering to tarmac it, it would only be marginally cheaper to rework the stretch between 8/9 and 10 on the M4.

In venue terms, I know you’re not supposed to have them or at least moot the subject, but this remains one of my firm favourites when it comes to photographing weddings. Congratulations to ‘Englishman in New York’ Matt and Niki. Looking forward to presenting you with your photographs when you come back from your secret honeymoon destination! Not sure if they have broadband where you’re going, but if they do, a handful of images to whet the appetite.

A trip down memory lane

nealejames — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 06:43:05 +0000

Mark and Natalie’s wedding at Holy Trinity in Bengeo with a reception at Ware’s Fanham’s Hall is a commission that stepped right back into my youth ‘billingi’ years ago. I grew up in Hertford’s little known satellite town called Bengeo, a place by the way my Tom Tom refused to give me an ETA for as I edged up from Berkshire passing every motorway maintenence vehicle that’s ever been built. I’m sure they store them all on the M25 for personal humour. Some shots from the day with running commentary.

Mark just ahead of guests arriving. I haven’t been to this church since I was a boy scout, so it was strange to tread the carpet (which I swear they haven’t changed) to the alter.

I shot this twice. This was the initial (and better) grab shot as I emerged from the reception venue car park to find Mark and Natalie still in their vintage Rolls Royce. I was worried about excess motion blur and the loss of groom in the background so tried to set up a technically better documentary scenario. As always the reconstruction was a poor relative, so I stuck with the one my insincts initially got excited about.

Notley Abbey prewedding shoot – Laura and Sean

nealejames — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 16:47:32 +0000

We’re about to enter the busiest August wedding season we’ve had at Breathe and frankly I can’t wait. I just know we’ll all emerge the other side richer for the wonderful things we witness and amazing people we meet. Talking of which, meet Laura, Sean and their amazing son Dylan. I look forward to a fabulous day at Notley!

The Black Barn wedding photography

nealejames — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 19:08:13 +0000

Page boy awaits bride

Their private viewing gallery now online, here’s just a few scene setters from Chris and Caroline’s wedding in Berkshire.

Great Fosters wedding photography – Adam and Julie

nealejames — Sun, 03 May 2009 18:38:00 +0000

It was an early ’set off’ yesterday for Adam and Julie’s wedding. Usually I’m car bound during Wossy’s Radio 2 gig, but if the radio splurts a dash of Brian Matthews when I turn the engine over, then I’m probably dodging traffic on the M25. Destination Ewell, arrived 10.30, service midday (sent to the balcony, up in the Gods at the church, if you’ll pardon the usage) – why is it everyone in the House of God is welcome bar the photographer? Anyway, back to a favourite venue of mine, the Tudor splendor that is Great Fosters near Egham for the reception. A couple of years ago at the very same venue I’d been doing an arty lit shot with the bride on a stairwell. I whipped closed a couple of curtains, only to find these were original designs by Jane Austin hung in 1798 by the great lady herself. I get selective vision when I’m photographing weddings, so large ‘don’t walk on the grass’, ‘don’t photograph in here’, or more pertinently titled signs like ‘don’t touch these curtains ever ever ever’ don’t tend to fog my vision when trying to grab a shot. Still no harm done, honest guvnor. A couple of favourite images from yesterday then…

Back from Austria

nealejames — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 21:13:59 +0000

So, we’ve just returned from our ski trip, with a clutch of photographs and medical bills from the Austrian health service. Fear not any forthcoming wedding clients who may be reading this. There’s not one sprained joint, fractured bone or ripped oojamiflipp between us; ‘merely’ the wonders of a one year old on holiday for the first time deciding to experience an allergy. I thought I’d post a couple of favourite pics up. First up, the lad! One cute moment and the obligatory snow shot.

I didn’t shoot even a fraction of the scenes I could have captured during our week away, as I spent much of my time in adult ski preservation mode just trying to stay on my feet. But here are a couple of shots from a ski region called Dachstein. It’s one big bowl essentially, a glacier in the Styria state. Nine thousand feet up is the home station from which you ski into the glacier bowl in one direction. The other direction is, well, this. Very rarely do I get a chance to photograph a scene which looks like it could have been shot from a passenger window in an Airbus. And then below this, my foot, in ski boot, standing on reinforced glass (though the cracks do little to reinforce your trust) – the drop below, hundreds of feet of nothing until you hit rock. I didn’t stand there too long.