Stories, Honestly Told
Wedding photographer, documentary storyteller, and author capturing real life as it actually happens.
I document real moments and real lives — from wedding days to everyday experiences that rarely get noticed. My work is built on observation rather than staging, conversation rather than assumption, and honesty rather than perfection.
The aim is simple: record people as they are, and preserve the meaning behind the moment.
I didn’t plan to become a photographer.
I planned to get life back on track.
There was a period where things were unstable and uncertain. Routine disappeared, confidence disappeared, and the future looked mostly theoretical. What helped during that time wasn’t dramatic intervention — it was people. Ordinary people giving time, listening properly, and treating me like a human being instead of a situation.
That idea never left.
In 2015, after rebuilding some stability, someone handed me a camera. It wasn’t presented as a career move. Just something to try.
At first I photographed anything because it gave shape to the day. Then something unexpected happened — people started talking.
Standing beside someone with a camera removes pressure. You’re not interrogating them, you’re sharing a moment. Conversations became easier. Honest stories appeared. Not dramatic ones, just real ones. That changed how I saw photography.
Wedding photography came naturally from that way of working.
I don’t stage moments and I don’t direct the day into a performance. Weddings already have enough emotion, tension, humour, chaos, and tiny human moments without a photographer choreographing it like a theatre production. My role is observation, not control.
The focus is simple:
record what actually happens.
The nervous hands before the ceremony.
The friend who fixes everything quietly.
The relative who laughs too loudly.
The moment the day finally feels real.
Couples usually say they don’t like being photographed. That’s fine — the approach is built around people forgetting the camera exists. When people relax, they look like themselves. Years later, that matters far more than perfection.
Alongside weddings, I run long-term collaborative projects with charities, organisations, and communities across the UK. These projects centre on lived experience — giving people space to share their own story rather than having it interpreted for them.
The photographs are only part of the work. Conversations matter just as much. Many people I meet are used to being summarised by headlines, labels, or statistics. Given time, they tell something far more human and far more complex.
The projects lead to exhibitions, publications, and shared resources designed to improve understanding, not just raise awareness. Awareness says a problem exists. Understanding helps people respond differently.
Writing followed for the same reason photography began — some things don’t fit inside a single image.
My books often use humour while talking about serious subjects. Not to make light of them, but to make them approachable. People stay longer with difficult topics when they feel safe reading them. Real life is rarely purely tragic or purely funny; it sits somewhere awkwardly in between.
Weddings, documentary projects, and books might look unrelated. They aren’t.
They all revolve around attention.
Pay attention to a wedding day and you see relationships, not poses.
Pay attention to a person’s story and you see context, not labels.
Pay attention to ordinary life and you realise it was never ordinary.
The camera is still just a tool.
The work has always been about people.