The wedding photographer and the year that made him miss, a lot


For about 33 years as a photographer, living from that, I already passed through success moments, of breaking, and changing direction but never, I repeat, never felt the taste of zero. Zero in the amount of work, zero in the incoming that is life to me and my family, and zero with that pleasure to show it and, with that naive joy of the children, saying I did it.

It was a year I will never miss but it was the year where I felt everything that I miss. I could say that, as a photographer, I miss photographing. But we can photograph anywhere and everything and, with that sin of vanity that I already wrote here about, to photograph is easy for me, I do not need to struggle to bring the camera to my right eye, with the chosen lens, and find the photo in every place and about any subject. If it is always good it is another story.

Also, I am not the photographer with the camera always on the shoulder, looking to find that photo, the one that everybody calls a photographer forever expects to find. I love to photograph in the work process and it is there that I fulfill myself in what I do.

I am also a photographer who does not have any passion for photography. As I can remember, none of the things, or others, why I fell in love throughout my life remained more than a passion should remain. Photography walked with me for more than thirty-five years…so it must be something else. But there are things that I missed, I missed so much.

I miss the nervousness that takes care of me on the eve of a wedding cover. I miss the first thing in the morning, picking up my batteries and laying them down in the charger to ensure that their energy will connect with mine and nothing that will pass through my eyes will not go away and come with me as a photo. I miss the cuddle I give to my cameras and lens, with a soft fabric, and blow away the dust that could ruin our fun the next day. I miss putting them in place, with the care with which a father lays his small child, in the bag that will be the bed, the transportation, and the place of the fast changes during the next day.

I miss insomnia for the expectation and the doubt if everything is in that bag: cameras? yes. lens? yes. batteries? yes. clean memory cards? yes. what do I miss? ahh…the powder sheets to erase the glow of the hot sun in my groom and bride? yes. the alarm clock will wake me in time? the GPS will find the best way? they never failed me before. So, why the hell don’t I fall asleep?

I miss the way to the house of the groom. I miss the mother that is not there because she did not leave the hairdresser, yet, and the father can not neck his tie because always was the job of his wife. I miss starting to photograph the suit, the watch, the shoes, and the small things to buy some time and show, after, maybe so much after, to children and grandchildren what he dressed up that day.

I miss being done with the groom and the appointment with the bride is already in delay. I miss the race until there, already with some tension in my arms and with no patience at all with the guy who crosses the front with his turtle car which I cannot pass because it is a continuous line and he does not go faster because he is just going to buy the newspaper and does not care about a wedding photographer hurried to meet a bride.

I miss not being able to park the car, damn them, they must be at their houses with their cars standing at the door and none of them remembered that that morning a wedding photographer would come to their bride’s neighborhood. I miss ringing the bell, good morning, someone told me that I would find here a bride, trying to be funny and receive the excuse of being late, yes it is, she is at the of the corridor you can go good morning everybody sorry for the del…oh…it is ok Fernando, we did not start yet, the makeup artist hasn’t even arrived…

I miss the fathers, the mothers, the aunts, and uncles the cousins, and those friends filling the space and stealing the attention of the, always curious, lens of the wedding photographer that should be exclusively for the bride. It is not my fault, she should not invite them home. I miss the luxurious out of the bride to the car that will take her to the ceremony, surrounded by neighbors wishing her the best…may you be always very happy.

I miss all seated and knowing that something very important and extraordinary is going to happen and each one can be the object of attraction for my lens and cameras, always thirsty to steal moments to faces of expectation, emotion, joy, and greatness.

I miss the lack of patience of my right index finger, the great culprit of my failed photos because he is very impatient, on the button of my camera that clicks. I miss almost being trampled by the bride and groom for that photo that must be done close to the ground with them bathed with flowers and rice and arms in the air in front of a glorious blue sky and cheers and kisses a lot of kisses always in the run.

I miss the people, around me, happy under the sun and snaking to anticipate the big meal that will be the great acclaim of the newlyweds. I miss the guests who are shy, vain, sloppy, funny, who think they are funny, the old and the young who are there because they all love those two. I miss the run of the aunt running to find all the nephews for the photo with the couple, the brothers of the bride’s father who haven’t seen each other for twenty years, or the grandmother of the groom who whispers to me that she can go rested happy, after seeing the grandson married.

I miss the party, the glasses full of wine from some, the fullness of good food from others, the endless races of the kids falling asleep very early on chairs or on the ground, those that know how to dance, those that only know to shake the bodies, those that already talk about anything and nobody understand but, at the cake time, they all join together around the newlyweds as if that last liturgy was the most important of the day. The real symbolic share of the bride and groom, with all who are there, just because they all love them.

But, especially, I miss the moment where, after all finished, I warmth my cameras and lens in the bag that will bring them home and I leave a light, satisfied with my duty accomplished in a way that I do not feel the pain in the heels, in the neck ( my cameras and lens love me very much but they are heavy) and elsewhere that it would be exhausting to describe. You can never imagine how to miss that moment… and those pains. I miss it so much and so much I need it.

I am sorry but there are no photos, or better, there were no photos. Maybe this year will be full of them…I hope.

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