The wedding photographer and his adventures in picking the pictures that constantly challenge him during the wedding day.

The photographer in Sintra and the photographs he takes at weddings


In a mirror in the distance, the bride looks at herself, together with her mother and a friend, as she gets ready to leave for the ceremony, in a composition by the wedding photographer in Sintra.

     I do not have the knowledge to speak about photography, as a matter of an academic discussion, and for that, there are many books that use those presumptuous words, like hermeneutics, semiology, and others that scare anyone who only likes to look at them, the photos, and be seized with such of enchantment that even words disappear from her mind, only the eyes have an opinion and decide if they pass to other one or stay leaning there until they absorb all the nuances of light, all the shapes of the reliefs, the harmonies of the composition or all the stories that may be inside it. I have come to find that they can be so many things that a photograph is, that I question myself, a lot, why I am not yet tired to find them. I already explained, here, that a photographer, at least this one, does not make them, he finds them. After discovering the best side of them, he is beset by strange choreographies, at least for those that are looking to him at the moment of the catch, because he knows that there is only a place and a moment for the right successful harvesting.

    That, I can talk about. The adventures of the wedding photographer to detect and take them, decide which lens is better prepared for it, even if all other lenses in my bag will scream shrilly in unison, me, and those that are passed overstayed in rage. Those that even if they are like ripe pears to harvest, were ready to crop and escape from me, before I could find that place, the point of view, to make them, even, more beautiful. Their problem, they will never know what they lost and never be seen, in all the time that time has. Or, still, the joy I delightedly feel, with those that are almost going away from me, when that strange vibration in my harms and, especially, in my finger over the shutter bottom of my camera that knows it must hold on until the right moment, which was, exactly, the last moment.

    Also, I can talk about some strange things that, if viewed with some attention by someone in the event, do not give a good idea of the wedding photographer, seeing him behaving like in the comic movies, where the detectives have a strange walking, crouching behind things as if he wants to hide from someone, stretching as if he thinks he is too small, among the present, and wants to get noticed. You can not imagine what a wedding photographer does to find those photos that insist on escaping from him, when he waits for them where they least expect it and many other things that I can talk about them, the photos, and about him, the photographer, so are the quantity of the stories of this photo chaser and the photographs he already picked up. But, if someone asks me for a dissertation about photography, photography, I could not imagine a word to talk about because, really, I only understand photos and the fun I have found them. That is a completely different thing. I think I do not have those presumptuous words to use.

Next to her mother and two friends, the bride puts on one of her earrings to finish dressing for the wedding.

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