Documentary.
Editorial.
Honest.
I travel for weddings that don't follow a template. Sometimes that means blending cultures and traditions, sometimes it's simply two people doing the day entirely their own way: intimate, unconventional, quietly stylish. My approach is built on empathy, discretion, and close attention. I move through the day quietly, rarely direct, and trust that the moments worth keeping are the ones nobody arranged, so what you get back is your day, not a performance of it.
That shows up in how I shoot. I'm drawn to movement over stillness, natural imperfection over polish: a hand caught mid-gesture, light doing something unrepeatable, the pause before everyone remembers to smile. I have a particular love for lines, shadows, and architecture, and I'm always looking for how a building or a doorway can frame the two of you without either of you noticing. My work sits closer to documentary and editorial photography than to the conventional wedding album, because your day already has a shape. My job is to notice it, not impose one.
No two weddings I shoot look the same, because no two couples are the same. The tailoring starts with how closely I pay attention, not with a package.
I'm a slow traveller by nature. I'd rather spend three unhurried days in one place than rush through five, and that's part of why elopements and trip-based projects suit me so well: they run at the same pace I prefer myself. Some of my favourite work isn't a single wedding day at all, but an elopement somewhere far from home, a few days spent documenting a couple simply being together in a new city, an anniversary or honeymoon treated as its own kind of story. Away from work, I'm usually on a bike, on a trail somewhere new, or planning the next trip.
Wherever the wedding, London, across Europe, or further afield, the approach doesn't change: quiet presence, close attention, and images that hold up years after the day itself.