Chapter One #3
Weddings pay the bills, but there are only so many ways to shoot a bride walking down the aisle.
Only so many ways to photograph dresses and cakes and flowers when a client’s preferences come before artistic expression, especially when there’s one particular Pinterest shot list I now recognize by the font alone.
After almost a decade, there’s still a lot about it I love, but it’s hard to feel the same creative satisfaction I had at the start.
And as a bonus, being on the cover of a magazine with international reach might be the thing that finally shuts my mother up.
According to her, I’ve wasted enough time chasing storms when I should be chasing a husband.
Despite my many assurances that it’s no longer the fifties—which even she wasn’t alive for—it’s her favorite refrain.
“Right, now on to the rules,” Carter continues, drawing my attention back to the call. “First and foremost, be safe out there. We don’t want to lose anyone over a photo.”
He pauses to let his words sink in. Storm chasing is dangerous, and though we all know it, it’s easy to shove to the back of your mind when your adrenaline is up. Experienced chasers can get caught off guard too—and some have, with deadly consequences.
My attention drifts toward the little square on my screen full of Wes’s face.
He still isn’t paying attention, his brow furrowed and his mouth moving like he’s talking to someone off-screen.
He’s back in his normal clothes, dusty Texas Longhorns baseball hat jammed low on his brow, a snug black T-shirt showing off the definition in his arms and chest, and familiar dark stubble once again coating his jaw.
“Only images shot this season are eligible. Final entries are due by July 1. Unlike some of our previous contests, this is one entry per photographer. Any additional entries will be disqualified, so don’t try to sneak anything by us.
Let’s respect everyone’s time with the number of you participating.
” Carter levels a stern look at the camera.
“Finally, Nature Shots prides itself on featuring true-to-life images without heavy edits, and it’s our expectation that the winners of this contest share our position on this. Absolutely no AI will be tolerated.”
I nod along as Carter covers the technical details of the contest requirements.
I’ve been a fan of the magazine since high school, when I first picked up a camera and thought maybe it could be a fun way to escape my house.
The requirement to submit the digital negatives to prove they haven’t been heavily doctored is part of why I want to win this contest so badly—in the age of Photoshop, photography skills can be easily inflated.
It’s much harder to snap the shot in camera without needing big adjustments in post. Winning would be irrefutable proof of my skill.
“All photos will be scored without the photographer’s name attached. For the winners, the terms of the contest allow us a first look at any photos you choose to license for a two-year period. You remain free to turn us down if we offer to run any of your photos, though we hope you’ll agree.”
Usually a downside to these things is that your rights to the images aren’t entirely your own.
It’s why I’ve largely stayed away—I don’t want one of my shots to end up selling some product I’ve never heard of.
But Nature Shots is different. The sort of people I’d like to work with in the future, the brands that I’d actually want to partner with, put a lot of stock in photographers with Nature Shots credits.
It’s part of what makes this contest such a rare opportunity. There’s a big enough market for wedding photographers that plenty of us can exist even in the same city without worrying too much about taking business from one another.
Landscapes are altogether different. Making a living off this type of work requires almost constant publication and licensing of images, and there are a lot more photographers interested in the field than there are paying jobs.
There are also a hell of a lot more men than women, which has led to rampant misogyny that often goes unchecked.
Though no one has ever admitted as much, I’ve long suspected the last Nature Shots editor outright refused to feature female photographers.
Not surprising from the guy who publicly called the #MeToo movement overblown female hysteria on a podcast.
Carter took over last year, so maybe things will be different—and the blind judging means that any bias over gender shouldn’t be a factor.
“Keep in mind that we’re also looking for an image that tells a story. We want to feel something when we view your work.”
My mind whirls. Part of the magic of photographing storms is the duality of it.
The power of nature to both heal and destroy.
I’m not certain yet how to tell that particular story in a single frame, but my first instinct is to find foregrounds where I can create a juxtaposition between the delicate and the destructive.
After a review of “the lawyer stuff” the call wraps up. One final glance at Wes leaves me certain he hasn’t heard a word, his attention still on someone or something out of the frame and a hard set to his jaw.
I can’t focus on Wes. The contest is too important and I have too much left to do.