As a young boy I was dandled on the knees of paupers and kings, flapper girls and captains of industry. In recent times dandling seems to have gone out of fashion somewhat, along with sock suspenders and the term cat burglar – which would in my day denote the soft passage of a mustachioed thief in Chinese gentlemen’s slippers and a dark polo neck scaling down drainpipes with pocketsful of rare and beautiful jewels. But I digress.
All that’s to say is that perhaps then this lost art of dandling is why I take photos. A photograph is a biography of a moment, and each photo we take is an attempt to stop those moments from sliding into obscurity. (Just like the soft staticky cling of a flapper’s stockinged knee, for example.) And seeing as even bad photos take on a kind of magic over time, you know, why not take good ones?
Nick’s website: London Documentary Wedding Photographer