This is what I call a perfect frame.

The exposure, the composition, the moment, everything is perfect. Starting from the snow white dress, the fluffiness of the mattress, the clean sheets that acted like a canvas, the grandpa with the mouth pouting, the way they are placed on the sides of the frame. Everything is perfect, and I love it so much. This is why I got up at 5 am on Saturdays: to get these kinda shots.

Without wanting to sound like I’m patting myself on the back too much, for me, this is journalism at its best. Definition of journalism, or so called ‘candid shots’ does not come down to only ‘pictures where they are not looking at the camera’, but pictures where you can see rich, worth-telling stories in them, instantly knowing what is happening just by a glance, just like this picture here.

Unfortunately, these ‘perfect frames’ need some luck behind it. But fortunately, luck is amplified by skill and experience. So the better a photographer knows his way around his camera, and knows where to look when he is in a scene, the better are the probabilities to nail the shot. But still, at the end of the day, still, some luck is needed. That’s why I start my shooting days whispering a prayer, “Make luck be on my side, Lord.”

This kind of pictures is the reason that you often won’t see me shooting the main events. I often get around, lost in the crowd, looking the other way, hopefully getting that shot nobody ever thought of shooting, my lucky perfect frame.