I've photographed some pretty interesting things in the past. I'd have to say the most interesting was when Sheikh Hamad took Qatar from his father, Sheikh Khalifa in a 'peaceful' coup d'état. Don't remember what year that was, I think it was in 95. The kids and I were living on the 10th floor of the Sofitel Hotel in downtown Doha. From my hotel room, I could see the whole of the city including the Emiri Diwan. It was eerily quiet for a city that usually wakes up at 4am to beat the heat of the day before 8am. The ports were closed so we couldn't get much more than grilled cheese sandwiches and bottled water for 3 days. That was back when I used a film camera. But those details will be in the book with the pictures I took.
So yesterday, I had a last minute engagement shoot in between the buildings downtown. The couple showed up in separate vehicles, not unusual. They appeared happy and totally immersed in each other. He, a charismatic American upper middle class 30 ish, polished, and well dressed. She, a tall willowy model type, also attractive, polished and well dressed, definitely Western European, well educated, undetermined age due to exceptional plastic surgery. They seemed to need to touch each other, even just slightly through the whole consultation bit of 15 minutes or so. The photo session is going very well. They look like a Ralph Lauren/Vogue advertisement. Our lighting was perfect, their energy and infectious laughter made for easy pictures. They had obviously both been photographed often.
Towards the end of the photo session, a dark car slowly edges to a stop close to our chosen point of location. Two tall, Armani suits step out with briefcases and cell phones in holsters. If you asked me to describe their facial features, I couldn't. But if you looked in any fashion magazine for some square jawed young corinthians, you'd probably have it close enough.
They stand behind me, just watching and talking on their cell phones. Based on their body language and sharp tones, They could have been talking to each other on their cell phones for all I know. We take a 5 minute break and the suits step forward to confer with my male client. The intended bride retires to her car to touch up her make-up for the umpteenth time, and when she returns, the suited bookends, and her beloved, all with the movie star smiles, step over to speak with the future Mrs. beloved. They extract folders and documents and hand her a pen. She reads the first page and her face turned bright red. She reads a little further, cursed in a couple of languages that I won't repeat, throws the documents at the three smiling underwear models, and storms off to her car. The bookends immediately get on the cell phones. She is now sobbing in the back seat of her rental car, mascara and goo running down her face already. Her beloved is also on the phone, speaking rapidly to his parents, I am guessing.
As I'm watching this unfold, my facial expression must have been similar to what would happen if you were caught on the tines of a fork. I didn't want to be there, to witness this scene of destruction and betrayal. From what snippets I caught of the bookends conversation, the young man and his family had doubts about the girl, or maybe it was just his family. Either way, they sprang the prenuptial agreement on her without notice or opportunity to consult a lawyer. Not sure but she may actually be a lawyer. Hard to tell with all the languages she used while spewing her epithets at the 3. What I find odd is it was done in front of the photographer (me). Isn't this something you would do behind closed doors for this very reason? Or did they think I'd be crass enough to photograph the outburst if it was expected? I did not, in case you're wondering.
So as this is unfolding in front of me, it reminded me of my own divorce many years ago. We didn't have a prenuptial agreement, nor did we need one. I wanted custody of my kids and nothing else. There was no fight, I just wanted to be free from the neglect and careless treatment.
I was also reminded of a not so recent potential boyfriend. We went out a few times but it never progressed into anything meaningful. He was disillusioned about marriage and having to fork over half his estate to his bride of less than a year. I felt a little sorry for him as it sounded like there was potential there for something wonderful for the two of them, but his wounds were still fresh and gaping. I politely declined to be the transitional relationship. Quite recently, he contacted me to meet. He felt the need to apologize for whatever his indiscretions were back in the day. Then went on to say how, when discussing with friends, how he wanted to get back into the dating scene, he was reminded how I had said if a man presented me with a prenuptial agreement, I would sign it. (Now I will bet my amazing lawyer is reading this and cringing at his computer desk, and I will probably get a lecture about that later). He is delicately trying to broach the subject of dating me for this reason alone, but has yet to pluck up his courage. I am not interested and will have to one day soon, I suspect, gently refuse his overtures.
Back in the day, marriages were arranged as a matter of business between two consenting families, and in some countries, they still are. The financials, disbursements, and transference of property were done by the elders of a village, the ruling families, and later the lawyers and oldest male heirs. Things were decided, right down to where the bride will live out her dowager years. (that's the final years after her husband has since departed this earth.)
The reality is, if you're going to marry in this day and age, you should expect something like a contract, number one, and number two, if you don't have any hidden agenda, sign the stupid documents. Just to note, don't spring it on your bride or groom last minute. Be intelligent, schedule lawyers for both parties and make it official. But do it in private, it's really no one's business what you decide.
I'm standing there scanning the images of the only moments before this blissfully unaware couple were attacked by the blindsiding of a necessary evil. Now entangled by lack of trust immediately equal on both sides, and a possibly intrusive family that now appears like they have been proven correct about the bride's intentions, I stowed my gear, returned the money to the disheveled former bride to be, and walked away. Thankfully, a few days prior, I had photographed a truly happy couple, who had been together long enough, (or already signed their agreement), to trust, love and honor each other. I went back to my editing room to review their pictures, and found myself thinking, there's hope for us all yet.
Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole
So yesterday, I had a last minute engagement shoot in between the buildings downtown. The couple showed up in separate vehicles, not unusual. They appeared happy and totally immersed in each other. He, a charismatic American upper middle class 30 ish, polished, and well dressed. She, a tall willowy model type, also attractive, polished and well dressed, definitely Western European, well educated, undetermined age due to exceptional plastic surgery. They seemed to need to touch each other, even just slightly through the whole consultation bit of 15 minutes or so. The photo session is going very well. They look like a Ralph Lauren/Vogue advertisement. Our lighting was perfect, their energy and infectious laughter made for easy pictures. They had obviously both been photographed often.
Towards the end of the photo session, a dark car slowly edges to a stop close to our chosen point of location. Two tall, Armani suits step out with briefcases and cell phones in holsters. If you asked me to describe their facial features, I couldn't. But if you looked in any fashion magazine for some square jawed young corinthians, you'd probably have it close enough.
They stand behind me, just watching and talking on their cell phones. Based on their body language and sharp tones, They could have been talking to each other on their cell phones for all I know. We take a 5 minute break and the suits step forward to confer with my male client. The intended bride retires to her car to touch up her make-up for the umpteenth time, and when she returns, the suited bookends, and her beloved, all with the movie star smiles, step over to speak with the future Mrs. beloved. They extract folders and documents and hand her a pen. She reads the first page and her face turned bright red. She reads a little further, cursed in a couple of languages that I won't repeat, throws the documents at the three smiling underwear models, and storms off to her car. The bookends immediately get on the cell phones. She is now sobbing in the back seat of her rental car, mascara and goo running down her face already. Her beloved is also on the phone, speaking rapidly to his parents, I am guessing.
As I'm watching this unfold, my facial expression must have been similar to what would happen if you were caught on the tines of a fork. I didn't want to be there, to witness this scene of destruction and betrayal. From what snippets I caught of the bookends conversation, the young man and his family had doubts about the girl, or maybe it was just his family. Either way, they sprang the prenuptial agreement on her without notice or opportunity to consult a lawyer. Not sure but she may actually be a lawyer. Hard to tell with all the languages she used while spewing her epithets at the 3. What I find odd is it was done in front of the photographer (me). Isn't this something you would do behind closed doors for this very reason? Or did they think I'd be crass enough to photograph the outburst if it was expected? I did not, in case you're wondering.
So as this is unfolding in front of me, it reminded me of my own divorce many years ago. We didn't have a prenuptial agreement, nor did we need one. I wanted custody of my kids and nothing else. There was no fight, I just wanted to be free from the neglect and careless treatment.
I was also reminded of a not so recent potential boyfriend. We went out a few times but it never progressed into anything meaningful. He was disillusioned about marriage and having to fork over half his estate to his bride of less than a year. I felt a little sorry for him as it sounded like there was potential there for something wonderful for the two of them, but his wounds were still fresh and gaping. I politely declined to be the transitional relationship. Quite recently, he contacted me to meet. He felt the need to apologize for whatever his indiscretions were back in the day. Then went on to say how, when discussing with friends, how he wanted to get back into the dating scene, he was reminded how I had said if a man presented me with a prenuptial agreement, I would sign it. (Now I will bet my amazing lawyer is reading this and cringing at his computer desk, and I will probably get a lecture about that later). He is delicately trying to broach the subject of dating me for this reason alone, but has yet to pluck up his courage. I am not interested and will have to one day soon, I suspect, gently refuse his overtures.
Back in the day, marriages were arranged as a matter of business between two consenting families, and in some countries, they still are. The financials, disbursements, and transference of property were done by the elders of a village, the ruling families, and later the lawyers and oldest male heirs. Things were decided, right down to where the bride will live out her dowager years. (that's the final years after her husband has since departed this earth.)
The reality is, if you're going to marry in this day and age, you should expect something like a contract, number one, and number two, if you don't have any hidden agenda, sign the stupid documents. Just to note, don't spring it on your bride or groom last minute. Be intelligent, schedule lawyers for both parties and make it official. But do it in private, it's really no one's business what you decide.
I'm standing there scanning the images of the only moments before this blissfully unaware couple were attacked by the blindsiding of a necessary evil. Now entangled by lack of trust immediately equal on both sides, and a possibly intrusive family that now appears like they have been proven correct about the bride's intentions, I stowed my gear, returned the money to the disheveled former bride to be, and walked away. Thankfully, a few days prior, I had photographed a truly happy couple, who had been together long enough, (or already signed their agreement), to trust, love and honor each other. I went back to my editing room to review their pictures, and found myself thinking, there's hope for us all yet.
Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole
