It’s three o’clock and I am about to get caught.
I am covertly sitting in the audience of Brooke and Jason’s wedding — an illegal vendor-in-the-pew sitting. Just three rows from the pulpit, ushers lead family members to their seats. The ushers see me but don’t seem too concerned. This is good.
Taking a few deep breaths and checking my gear, I start to notice that the audience around me is buzzing with the familiar anticipation of an early Spring wedding. And for a fleeting moment, I start to absorb some of the sights and sounds that I would normally ignore. But today I’m shooting second “fiddle,” so I have a few extra minutes to think ahead about light, composition, and subject — photographer stuff. Despite the respite, I maintain focus … breaking church rules is a dangerous game after all.
Scanning the doorway, I spot the church coordinator as she lines up immediate family members for the big processional. If she sees me, she will likely escort me to the back of the church — an embarrassed professional photographer in tow. I know this because I was indeed caught once … several years ago. I walked too close to the altar and was kindly escorted back to the rear of the church. My photographer friends will relate to the back. This relative purgatory is a photographer’s nightmare because it constrains our ability to translate the overall vision into imagery. Not too rewarding. And vision is, after all, our ultimate covenant with the bride and groom. Rather than capturing expression, tension, and love. We see a bride and groom; their backs turned to face the officiant.
Being led by the collar in front of a house full of guests? Well, it is also just plain embarrassing.
The coordinator unexpectedly looks my way, so I snap my head to face the stranger next to me. I’m sure she can’t see me now. Heart pounding, I strike up an ill-planned conversation with a receptive gentleman about nothing at all important — the weather, maybe. In the back of my mind, I chant to myself: “don’t get caught, don’t get caught, don’t get caught. I won’t be embarrassed in this church twice …” In this church the rules are pretty clear — photographers stay in the back of the church! So I slouch further into the fuzzy red velvet pew; hoping that the guests around me don’t catch on that I’m a plant … not quite a guest but maybe the one person most interested in seeing the wedding from an entirely different perspective. In professional circles, we call my job today: “camera two.” And like second chair in band, camera two means that I get to sneak around — ninja style — without drawing much attention. I am dressed slightly different and pretty much blend in with the crowd. In this way, second camera is the true fly-on-the-wall image that photographers like to evoke. Focused back on the task at hand, I check one last time to make sure that my position is safe … lights dim … music changes … voices hush … all is magically quiet — the kind of quiet that traditionally ushers the beginning of the wedding processional. Safe now …
To most observers, this is the big payoff. And today’s event does not disappoint me. From my new vantage point, I watch family members approach one by one toward the groom who is now confidently, patiently waiting. The last family member sits and the audience begins to shift their attention away from the front. Jason closes his eyes — a disarming gesture that revealed the true anticipation of an event like this. As he opens his eyes, Brooks begins her much anticipated stroll down the aisle. That triptych sequence turned out to reveal a fabulous set of shots I likely would not have seen from the balcony. I suppose I am sorry that I violated the church “code,” but our bride and groom will thank us for it later …
[Much is being made of the “second camera” in professional wedding photography. Is it a good thing? Is it necessary? Who benefits? Most of all, how do prospective clients know if they’re getting a true two-camera team or just another camera buzzing off frames. Next week, I’ll talk in more detail about the second camera phenomenon.]
