How odd and interesting that you should ask this question now. In 2017, I was staying at friend's in France where I learned so much about what love is and what it isn't. Recently one of the photos I took came to my mind from this trip. My friends lived in the country and in their small village of 250 people, they happened to live in front of a Norman church. My friend had the key and would open it in the morning. One morning I was asked if I'd mind going over to open the church. It might have been ordinary, same old same old for them, but for me it was pretty trippy. I put the ancient key in the door and pushed and the door sang to me. I gently found the note and answered back, singing softly together as I walked into the simple space full of morning sun, so full of history and lives. I went to admire the stained glass glowing in the sun. All that colour shining down on me around me filling the space. It too, sang. I sang with it. When I turned around I realized that I was framed by the colours reflected on the church floor, my silhouette shaped by colour. I took a photo, a self-portrait. Up until recently, I thought of this photo as a way of showing the wonder I often feel in life, how my senses light up so very frequently. Now I'm also seeing that that same silhouette is a shadow and I'm very curious about the light that is me. Instead of looking outwards all the time, I'm learning to look inwards at the light and shadow, both.
A photo I took that means way more now than when I took it is probably one of the last photo I took of my dad for his birthday while eating cake. It was just a fun moment. But it was also his last birthday. Cancer is the worst… that picture brings back so many memories…
It’s hard to think of a photograph I’ve taken for myself that meant more later than in the moment but as a weddings photographer it has happened a lot. Every year one or two couples I’ve worked with in the past reach out to say that someone who attended their wedding passed away and they ask if there are more photos from the day with that person. Often times it’s grandparents, sometimes it’s not. I always try to take these requests seriously. I’ll spend some serious time digging through the archives for people in these circumstances.
This has sadly happened to me quite a few times now, not weddings but same idea. Some people as young as 30. Always grateful when a photo can bring some solace.
I first moved out of my parents house with a friend and took some pictures of the new place - the normal shots you would take after moving somewhere new, nothing special. 4 months in, our landlord kicked us out and my friend moved back to her hometown as a result, thus those pictures are the only thing left from that brief time in which i finally achieved that goal and also the last time i lived in the same city as my friend. They represent what was supposed to be a new beginning but was cut short. They were good times though!
A while ago, I shot a roll of Ilford 3200 at my brother’s wedding, using my Leica M4. At the time, it felt like any other moment behind the camera—composing, adjusting, capturing. But later, when I developed the negatives and made the prints, I realized those photos held something more. They weren’t just images; they carried the energy of the day, the fleeting expressions, the unspoken connections. One frame in particular—my brother laughing, mid-toast, surrounded by friends—hit differently once I saw it in print. In that moment, it was just another shot. Now, it’s a piece of time that will never happen again, something that exists only in memory and on paper.
Photos of a night before a friend went on a trip to Europe, a gathering of friends to eat good food, drink, laugh, and say goodbye. That friend died in a freak accident while gone, and I’m glad we have the photos to document some of our last moments with him.
I took a photo of a bird flying past a crescent moon on my canon Ae-1 program years ago, and as I took it i really didn’t think I had any settings right to even capture it. It was very early on in my film photography journey so when I got my scans back and saw the photo I was honestly in awe that I took it. Still to this day it’s one of my most popular photos and has been published in several magazines! That photo solidified to me that I’m an artist😊
My answer on the importance of a photo now over when taken, is probably a common one , because this is one of the greatest triumphs of the invention of photography - instant recall of past memories, especially of our dear departed. I put together the tribute slide show for my father's funeral and not only did photos I had taken of him recreate the feelings and transport me to the day they were taken, but the ones taken before I was even born took on another dimension as I worked on his timeline and learned some things that made me appreciate him and feeling like I knew him even more. He had always stressed to me that is why he loved photos, they took him back in time.
Near the end of a hiking trip across the Isle of Skye and part of the Scottish Highlands four years ago, my partner and I were wandering the streets of Glasgow in the late afternoon sunlight. I spotted a cherry red BMW 2002 nestled against the curb with a massive wall of shrubs behind it. The light illuminated the scene perfectly. I snapped one simple photo of it and kept walking. Made me think of my dad, as he used to own one of these (although in worse shape) when I was a kid. He adored that car. I thought it was just okay at the time, always secretly wishing he had something “cooler.”
He passed a little over a year ago. Strangely, this photo of stranger’s car has become one of my favorites. I’ve hung a small print of it just inside my front door so I see it whenever I walk out. It reminds me of just spending time with my dad as a kid. Now I cling to those memories, and many since, and try to remain attentive to the world around me, hoping to notice other small artifacts that may jostle loose some long-forgotten memory of him in my mind.
I’ve also realized I was wrong before. These are the coolest cars on earth.
What a fascinating project...authentic both visually and its truth in the portrayal of love...that we are always skirting it, whether searching for it, suffering its loss, or in secure relationships working at it...it's as imperfect as our asymmetries, wrinkles, and human blemishes
How odd and interesting that you should ask this question now. In 2017, I was staying at friend's in France where I learned so much about what love is and what it isn't. Recently one of the photos I took came to my mind from this trip. My friends lived in the country and in their small village of 250 people, they happened to live in front of a Norman church. My friend had the key and would open it in the morning. One morning I was asked if I'd mind going over to open the church. It might have been ordinary, same old same old for them, but for me it was pretty trippy. I put the ancient key in the door and pushed and the door sang to me. I gently found the note and answered back, singing softly together as I walked into the simple space full of morning sun, so full of history and lives. I went to admire the stained glass glowing in the sun. All that colour shining down on me around me filling the space. It too, sang. I sang with it. When I turned around I realized that I was framed by the colours reflected on the church floor, my silhouette shaped by colour. I took a photo, a self-portrait. Up until recently, I thought of this photo as a way of showing the wonder I often feel in life, how my senses light up so very frequently. Now I'm also seeing that that same silhouette is a shadow and I'm very curious about the light that is me. Instead of looking outwards all the time, I'm learning to look inwards at the light and shadow, both.
Beautifully put!
A photo I took that means way more now than when I took it is probably one of the last photo I took of my dad for his birthday while eating cake. It was just a fun moment. But it was also his last birthday. Cancer is the worst… that picture brings back so many memories…
Very moving, thank you for sharing Yannick
I guess that losing parents brings that kind of thing.
It’s hard to think of a photograph I’ve taken for myself that meant more later than in the moment but as a weddings photographer it has happened a lot. Every year one or two couples I’ve worked with in the past reach out to say that someone who attended their wedding passed away and they ask if there are more photos from the day with that person. Often times it’s grandparents, sometimes it’s not. I always try to take these requests seriously. I’ll spend some serious time digging through the archives for people in these circumstances.
This has sadly happened to me quite a few times now, not weddings but same idea. Some people as young as 30. Always grateful when a photo can bring some solace.
Love how you blend photography and storytelling to explore modern relationships—such a compelling and visually rich piece!
thank you ash!
I first moved out of my parents house with a friend and took some pictures of the new place - the normal shots you would take after moving somewhere new, nothing special. 4 months in, our landlord kicked us out and my friend moved back to her hometown as a result, thus those pictures are the only thing left from that brief time in which i finally achieved that goal and also the last time i lived in the same city as my friend. They represent what was supposed to be a new beginning but was cut short. They were good times though!
<3 wow!
A while ago, I shot a roll of Ilford 3200 at my brother’s wedding, using my Leica M4. At the time, it felt like any other moment behind the camera—composing, adjusting, capturing. But later, when I developed the negatives and made the prints, I realized those photos held something more. They weren’t just images; they carried the energy of the day, the fleeting expressions, the unspoken connections. One frame in particular—my brother laughing, mid-toast, surrounded by friends—hit differently once I saw it in print. In that moment, it was just another shot. Now, it’s a piece of time that will never happen again, something that exists only in memory and on paper.
beautiful! thank you for sharing!
Photos of a night before a friend went on a trip to Europe, a gathering of friends to eat good food, drink, laugh, and say goodbye. That friend died in a freak accident while gone, and I’m glad we have the photos to document some of our last moments with him.
Thank you for sharing, Sara. So sorry for your loss, so glad you have the photos.
I took a photo of a bird flying past a crescent moon on my canon Ae-1 program years ago, and as I took it i really didn’t think I had any settings right to even capture it. It was very early on in my film photography journey so when I got my scans back and saw the photo I was honestly in awe that I took it. Still to this day it’s one of my most popular photos and has been published in several magazines! That photo solidified to me that I’m an artist😊
That is so cool Nova!
My answer on the importance of a photo now over when taken, is probably a common one , because this is one of the greatest triumphs of the invention of photography - instant recall of past memories, especially of our dear departed. I put together the tribute slide show for my father's funeral and not only did photos I had taken of him recreate the feelings and transport me to the day they were taken, but the ones taken before I was even born took on another dimension as I worked on his timeline and learned some things that made me appreciate him and feeling like I knew him even more. He had always stressed to me that is why he loved photos, they took him back in time.
beautiful, thank you for sharing Paul!
Near the end of a hiking trip across the Isle of Skye and part of the Scottish Highlands four years ago, my partner and I were wandering the streets of Glasgow in the late afternoon sunlight. I spotted a cherry red BMW 2002 nestled against the curb with a massive wall of shrubs behind it. The light illuminated the scene perfectly. I snapped one simple photo of it and kept walking. Made me think of my dad, as he used to own one of these (although in worse shape) when I was a kid. He adored that car. I thought it was just okay at the time, always secretly wishing he had something “cooler.”
He passed a little over a year ago. Strangely, this photo of stranger’s car has become one of my favorites. I’ve hung a small print of it just inside my front door so I see it whenever I walk out. It reminds me of just spending time with my dad as a kid. Now I cling to those memories, and many since, and try to remain attentive to the world around me, hoping to notice other small artifacts that may jostle loose some long-forgotten memory of him in my mind.
I’ve also realized I was wrong before. These are the coolest cars on earth.
Thanks so much for sharing, Adam. Beautifully written, beautiful story
What a fascinating project...authentic both visually and its truth in the portrayal of love...that we are always skirting it, whether searching for it, suffering its loss, or in secure relationships working at it...it's as imperfect as our asymmetries, wrinkles, and human blemishes
Thank you for seeing that Ellen, and letting me know in such kind words!
Thanks for sharing this story, Wesley. I really like the idea and approach on your WWTWKAL project. You're like a never-ending-idea-factory.
Haha thank you Marcel! So many more projects coming :)
Absolutely lovely portraits, Wesley.
The book project was a wonderful idea.
Aahhh... the light from windows.
I wonder occasionally if the window itself is some sort of portal.
Congrats on the great review.
Thanks so much, Don! I know you know your light! You’d love this place!