Favourite Wedding Memories of 2025
#realtalknohype
Every January I tell myself I’ll be ruthless. I’ll open the archive, pick a handful of favourites and move on. Every year I fail and I fall down little memory holes. One photograph leads to another and suddenly I’m back in the noise of someone else’s wedding day, remembering how it felt to be there rather than why I was there in the first place.
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That’s what this collection is. Not a “best of” in any competitive sense, and definitely not a highlight reel of what weddings are supposed to look like. It’s a set of photographs from 2025 that I love because they make me feel something. They remind me why I do this, and why I still care as much as I do after years of standing in crowded rooms with a camera in my hand.
I’ve photographed weddings for long enough to know what a “pretty” wedding photograph looks like. I can take the dress-on-a-hanger shot. I can line up the shoes, the perfume bottle, the invitations and make it all look very calm and editorial. And I do, when it matters to the couple. But if I’m honest, those are never the images that stay with me. They don’t have much of a pulse.
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The photographs I love are the ones where something real slipped through. Someone laughing at the wrong moment. A quiet hand squeeze during a ceremony. A look that lasts half a second and never happens again. The chaos just after confetti, when nobody quite knows where to go etc.
My approach has always been simple, even if the results sometimes look a bit unexpected. I don’t care what people look like. I care about how they feel. Weddings aren’t performances, even though they can feel like one from the inside. They’re human days, full of nerves, affection, awkwardness, relief, joy, boredom, silliness and emotion that doesn’t always arrive on cue. Real always beats perfect, and I’d rather make a photograph that feels honest than one that looks flawless.
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Looking back at 2025, what strikes me most is how expansive it felt. Long drives across the UK, early mornings, late nights, familiar landscapes and completely new ones. And then Lake Garda, with its light and beautiful water and the way time seems to move slightly differently there. Different places, different accents, different families but the same shared patterns of people being people when something important is happening.
There’s loads of moments from last year that make me smile, and a couple which sadly remind me of the fragility of life, and how there’s a fair chance I’ll take a photograph that will be used at a funeral in the future. But as sad as that is, it’s also why noticing those moments really matters.
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Some of the photographs in this gallery were risks. Odd angles, reflections, refractions, shooting through things I probably shouldn’t have been shooting through. The kind of images that make you think – how TF was that taken? The answer is usually that I was curious, paying attention, and willing to get it wrong. Creative risk keeps the work alive. How I avoid turning weddings into a formula, and how I stay present instead of just ticking boxes.
What I hope comes across, if you spend time with these images, is a sense of ease. None of the people in them were trying to look a certain way for the camera. They weren’t performing romance or joy or elegance. They were just in it. That’s the space I try to give couples on their wedding day - permission to feel whatever they feel, and to trust that it’s enough.
I’ve always believed that the best wedding photographs don’t shout. They sit with you. They make you remember how loud a room was, or how quiet. How it felt to stand just off to the side, watching something meaningful unfold without needing to interfere. That’s what revisiting these images gives me, and it’s what I hope they offer you too.
Approx 75 photos from all four seasons in every type of weather. I don’t photograph more than 20 weddings in a year so you’ll see just four or five from each wedding
