The Little Photographer That Could

Wolfgang

I am shooting a wedding tomorrow — less Tarantino-esque rapid-gunfire-and-spurting-blood and more tasteful-by-a-waterfall — and so I spent the day fretting about my creative abilities. Will I be able to catch the flavour of the wedding? Will the bride's and the groom's characters come through? Will I manage not to nick my ankle in a bloody shaving accident and avoid bleeding into my shoes all afternoon?

I decided to take my camera out this evening to my friend's celebration of finally finishing her Master's dissertation, hoping that I would find that one shot that would make me forget my own insecurities and remember that it is the interplay between the subject, photographer, and equipment and not the me-me-me-it's-all-about-me ego trip of fear. I found my antidote tonight when I met Wolfgang, a professor and house painter with a face I could die for. Now I am excited to see what images tomorrow will bring.

Thank you, Wolfgang.