We have just gotten back from a trip to the Czech Republic, where our friends Nico and Tereza were getting married. Yeah, yeah, I know that it’s called Czechia – but old habits die hard. At least I didn’t say Czechoslovakia. It would be great if I could tell you where exactly the nuptials took place, but I have to admit that I have no idea. I just went where I was told, and followed a bunch of folks for a semi-sketchy taxi drive to a beautiful place with lots of wine, about an hour outside of the country’s second city of Brno (which after a sustained lesson on the return trip I can now perfectly pronounce).
This being August in Central Europe, the temperature was lingering somewhere in the mid 30s. For my North American readers who don’t understand Celcius, let’s just say it was hot. Really hot. So hot in fact, that it obviously made perfect sense to wear a ludicrous three piece suit – complete with black cotton hat.
Would some kind of linen getup have made more sense? Absolutely. Would I have looked as excellent? Well, probably not. At least I didn’t think I would, given the number of self-portraits I took. Naturally, despite attending in the capacity of ‘guest’, it would have been impossible to go to such a thing without a camera, and I spent a great deal of time agonising over the perfect combination of practicality and utility… only to throw it all out of the window at the last minute, and shoot entirely on film.
For the geeks out there, I took a single Leica M6, locked and loaded with a Voigtlander 35mm f1.4, and a shonky mixture of Kodak UltraMax 400 (fresh), FujiColor 100 (expired), and KodaColor 200 (extremely expired). Can anybody tell which picture was from which stock? (No, really. I haven’t got the negatives back yet, so I have no idea either).
There was a time in the past where people would ask me to be their wedding photographer on a regular basis, and far more occasions than I would have liked where I couldn’t come up with a reasonable enough excuse to get out of actually doing so. This was never an experience that I particularly relished, and whenever self-doubt or anxiety would arise in such circumstances, I would reassure myself that I could approach things just like I was another guest: Talking to everybody, having (lots of) drinks, and getting to take pictures. But as it turns out, you know what is better than acting like a guest? Actually being a guest. Talking to everybody. Having lots of drinks. Taking pictures. Something that is made endlessly easier and more enjoyable when you are surrounded by fun, friendly, and interesting people.
The fact that we are considerably far into this post about Nico & Tereza’s wedding, and there haven’t yet been a single picture of them has not escaped my attention. You might be wondering whether I even remembered to get any shots of them together (not as stupid an assumption as it may appear on the surface, trust me). But it’s okay. I did.
What I love about this is that when I went to take Nico’s dad’s picture later on, he immediately pulled the same face. It must be a genetic thing.
(there were some other nicer, ‘normal’ shots as well).
Ah yes, there was also the ceremony – in which I skulked around at the back in my black-and-blue suit like a creepy cartoon villian from a Marvel movie, trying not to ruin the actual professional photographer’s pictures with either my presence, or that of my pretentious German rangefinder.
Taking pictures during the meal and speeches would have been entirely foolish, as I only brought a maximum film speed of ISO 400… but it didn’t stop me from having a crack at it anyway. Shockingly, they actually came out quite well?!
There were some traditional Czech customs which included the aggressive smashing of plates and some kind of boozy teacup roulette, but I dare not do them a disservice by an inaccurate explanation.
As day wore into evening, people relaxed into the whole affair, and there was a genuinely lovely atmosphere. Helped, in no small part I am sure, by the various libations on offer.
I often come away from weddings feeling like I could have taken more pictures, or better pictures; events like this sharpening the realisation that time is fleeting, and we need to make the most of it. This such occasion is no exception, though I am fairly pleased with how things came out. Shooting everything on film was the right way to go – and I need to give some specific appreciation at this point for my local independent lab Gulabi, who I dropped off 17 rolls to this morning in the pishing rain, and who turned them around in less than three hours. They’ve helped me come to love film again. I’ll never develop my own colour again (unless they shut down or I move more than a 30 minute walk away).
At some point in the evening, I stopped taking pictures, which was probably a good thing. Not only did I not have the film required for such low-light shenanigans, I had also been rendered blind, semi-conscious, and my memory completely wiped by some traditional rocket fuel called slivovice, which Tereza’s grandfather had produced.
When I woke up the next day, I had the worst hangover I’ve experienced in quite some time, and had to abandon lunch half-way through. I’m still not sure that I’ve fully recovered. I am led to believe that the man responsible for this is pictured below. Sir, I salute you. The cask aged variety was my particular favourite – and perhaps proved to be my ultimate downfall. But hey, at least I didn’t lose and/or destroy the camera. We need to remember and celebrate the minor victories.
I apologise to any and all for anything I may have said or done during those last hours. By all accounts I was incredibly charismatic and endearing, but you never know.
By way of wrapping this up, I now also share some pictures from the terrible brunch that we had a few days after the wedding, as well as the train back to Prague – for no reason other than the fact that I have no better place to put them. I am glad that we were able to make the trip, and it was especially nice to be part of the day, given that Tereza and Nico had both met while working back in Glasgow at the Ivory Hotel with Grace a few years back. It’s funny how things work out.
Until next time.