Pictures of the Day: Philippines and Elsewhere

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Photos from the Philippines, Turkey, Mali and China.

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Shooting Weddings, for Better or for Worse

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Bill McCullough played pedal steel guitar for Knife in the Water, an Austin, Tex., band whose sound was “the perfect soundtrack for downing a fifth of bourbon alone in your car, parked outside your ex’s house in the dead of winter.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t much of a drinker. So, while his bandmates hit the bar after the sound check, he would wander, taking pictures with a camera he brought with him on the road. Working nooks and crannies and finding odd angles, he rediscovered his love of photography.

Good thing, too, since he lost some of his hearing in the ensuing years. Out of necessity, he started photographing weddings, where his penchant for finding giddy moments of humor and rendering them in lavish color and from unlikely vantage points proved popular. In some ways, he found that his approaches to music and to photography were almost identical.

“For me, all the elements in a frame are important, and they have a voice, and to me that’s a very musical thing,” said Mr. McCullough, who is 50 and self-taught. “There’s a layering that happens with chords and harmony. Things harmonize.”

His series “Technicolor Life” is a vibrant collection of mini-dramas, stories, scenes and characters, all taken for actual wedding clients. His distinctive style came about with practice â€" honing the technical aspects and developing a sense of how a moment unfolds and where to be to seize that moment; rehearsing at home and on his street until it became second nature.

“When I photograph, it’s very much â€" things are going around me, and there’s sort of a performance in front of the lens, because I’m not staging or posing anything,” he said. “Some of the photos might look that way, but they’re not.”

Bill McCullough “Lion,” 2010.

Far from being a mere observer, Mr. McCullough is part of the proceedings, being pulled constantly in all directions. “You’ve got a wedding coordinator going, ‘Get ready, they’re going to cut the cake!’ And you’ve got a mom over here saying, ‘Can I have a picture of my mother’ ” he said.

He likens the rush of events to musical improvisation. But when it comes to weddings, where small fortunes collide with big dreams, an unexpected moment where something goes wrong can spell doom. A wedding is, in almost every way, an effort to forestall improvisation. When Mr. McCullough was starting out, however, he was drawn to the idea of having just one chance to get things right.

He relishes both the pageantry and the people. And while he always finds his way into those nooks and crannies, the thick of the frenzy exhilarates him, too.

Lately, he has been fixing his eye on other subjects. In a union of two passions, he photographed the South by Southwest festival last month. He has been shooting a project that he describes as capturing the social aspects of dance â€" of learning and observing. He is also at work on a project in his neighborhood, in which he hangs out in the homes of neighbors until they forget about him or lose their self-consciousness in front of the camera.

Until he’s almost invisible.

“It’s like playing hide-and-seek,” Mr. McCullough said. “You’re negotiating constantly, how you stand and what is your chemistry with the subject matter. For me, that’s such a hard-to-describe thing that maybe even almost can’t really be taught.”

Bill McCullough “Baby, Doll,” 2004.

Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.

Shooting Weddings, for Better or for Worse

In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here.

#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}

Bill McCullough played pedal steel guitar for Knife in the Water, an Austin, Tex., band whose sound was “the perfect soundtrack for downing a fifth of bourbon alone in your car, parked outside your ex’s house in the dead of winter.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t much of a drinker. So, while his bandmates hit the bar after the sound check, he would wander, taking pictures with a camera he brought with him on the road. Working nooks and crannies and finding odd angles, he rediscovered his love of photography.

Good thing, too, since he lost some of his hearing in the ensuing years. Out of necessity, he started photographing weddings, where his penchant for finding giddy moments of humor and rendering them in lavish color and from unlikely vantage points proved popular. In some ways, he found that his approaches to music and to photography were almost identical.

“For me, all the elements in a frame are important, and they have a voice, and to me that’s a very musical thing,” said Mr. McCullough, who is 50 and self-taught. “There’s a layering that happens with chords and harmony. Things harmonize.”

His series “Technicolor Life” is a vibrant collection of mini-dramas, stories, scenes and characters, all taken for actual wedding clients. His distinctive style came about with practice â€" honing the technical aspects and developing a sense of how a moment unfolds and where to be to seize that moment; rehearsing at home and on his street until it became second nature.

“When I photograph, it’s very much â€" things are going around me, and there’s sort of a performance in front of the lens, because I’m not staging or posing anything,” he said. “Some of the photos might look that way, but they’re not.”

Bill McCullough “Lion,” 2010.

Far from being a mere observer, Mr. McCullough is part of the proceedings, being pulled constantly in all directions. “You’ve got a wedding coordinator going, ‘Get ready, they’re going to cut the cake!’ And you’ve got a mom over here saying, ‘Can I have a picture of my mother’ ” he said.

He likens the rush of events to musical improvisation. But when it comes to weddings, where small fortunes collide with big dreams, an unexpected moment where something goes wrong can spell doom. A wedding is, in almost every way, an effort to forestall improvisation. When Mr. McCullough was starting out, however, he was drawn to the idea of having just one chance to get things right.

He relishes both the pageantry and the people. And while he always finds his way into those nooks and crannies, the thick of the frenzy exhilarates him, too.

Lately, he has been fixing his eye on other subjects. In a union of two passions, he photographed the South by Southwest festival last month. He has been shooting a project that he describes as capturing the social aspects of dance â€" of learning and observing. He is also at work on a project in his neighborhood, in which he hangs out in the homes of neighbors until they forget about him or lose their self-consciousness in front of the camera.

Until he’s almost invisible.

“It’s like playing hide-and-seek,” Mr. McCullough said. “You’re negotiating constantly, how you stand and what is your chemistry with the subject matter. For me, that’s such a hard-to-describe thing that maybe even almost can’t really be taught.”

Bill McCullough “Baby, Doll,” 2004.

Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.

Shooting Weddings, for Better or for Worse

In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here.

#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}

Bill McCullough played pedal steel guitar for Knife in the Water, an Austin, Tex., band whose sound was “the perfect soundtrack for downing a fifth of bourbon alone in your car, parked outside your ex’s house in the dead of winter.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t much of a drinker. So, while his bandmates hit the bar after the sound check, he would wander, taking pictures with a camera he brought with him on the road. Working nooks and crannies and finding odd angles, he rediscovered his love of photography.

Good thing, too, since he lost some of his hearing in the ensuing years. Out of necessity, he started photographing weddings, where his penchant for finding giddy moments of humor and rendering them in lavish color and from unlikely vantage points proved popular. In some ways, he found that his approaches to music and to photography were almost identical.

“For me, all the elements in a frame are important, and they have a voice, and to me that’s a very musical thing,” said Mr. McCullough, who is 50 and self-taught. “There’s a layering that happens with chords and harmony. Things harmonize.”

His series “Technicolor Life” is a vibrant collection of mini-dramas, stories, scenes and characters, all taken for actual wedding clients. His distinctive style came about with practice â€" honing the technical aspects and developing a sense of how a moment unfolds and where to be to seize that moment; rehearsing at home and on his street until it became second nature.

“When I photograph, it’s very much â€" things are going around me, and there’s sort of a performance in front of the lens, because I’m not staging or posing anything,” he said. “Some of the photos might look that way, but they’re not.”

Bill McCullough “Lion,” 2010.

Far from being a mere observer, Mr. McCullough is part of the proceedings, being pulled constantly in all directions. “You’ve got a wedding coordinator going, ‘Get ready, they’re going to cut the cake!’ And you’ve got a mom over here saying, ‘Can I have a picture of my mother’ ” he said.

He likens the rush of events to musical improvisation. But when it comes to weddings, where small fortunes collide with big dreams, an unexpected moment where something goes wrong can spell doom. A wedding is, in almost every way, an effort to forestall improvisation. When Mr. McCullough was starting out, however, he was drawn to the idea of having just one chance to get things right.

He relishes both the pageantry and the people. And while he always finds his way into those nooks and crannies, the thick of the frenzy exhilarates him, too.

Lately, he has been fixing his eye on other subjects. In a union of two passions, he photographed the South by Southwest festival last month. He has been shooting a project that he describes as capturing the social aspects of dance â€" of learning and observing. He is also at work on a project in his neighborhood, in which he hangs out in the homes of neighbors until they forget about him or lose their self-consciousness in front of the camera.

Until he’s almost invisible.

“It’s like playing hide-and-seek,” Mr. McCullough said. “You’re negotiating constantly, how you stand and what is your chemistry with the subject matter. For me, that’s such a hard-to-describe thing that maybe even almost can’t really be taught.”

Bill McCullough “Baby, Doll,” 2004.

Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.

Shooting Weddings, for Better or for Worse

In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here.

#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}

Bill McCullough played pedal steel guitar for Knife in the Water, an Austin, Tex., band whose sound was “the perfect soundtrack for downing a fifth of bourbon alone in your car, parked outside your ex’s house in the dead of winter.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t much of a drinker. So, while his bandmates hit the bar after the sound check, he would wander, taking pictures with a camera he brought with him on the road. Working nooks and crannies and finding odd angles, he rediscovered his love of photography.

Good thing, too, since he lost some of his hearing in the ensuing years. Out of necessity, he started photographing weddings, where his penchant for finding giddy moments of humor and rendering them in lavish color and from unlikely vantage points proved popular. In some ways, he found that his approaches to music and to photography were almost identical.

“For me, all the elements in a frame are important, and they have a voice, and to me that’s a very musical thing,” said Mr. McCullough, who is 50 and self-taught. “There’s a layering that happens with chords and harmony. Things harmonize.”

His series “Technicolor Life” is a vibrant collection of mini-dramas, stories, scenes and characters, all taken for actual wedding clients. His distinctive style came about with practice â€" honing the technical aspects and developing a sense of how a moment unfolds and where to be to seize that moment; rehearsing at home and on his street until it became second nature.

“When I photograph, it’s very much â€" things are going around me, and there’s sort of a performance in front of the lens, because I’m not staging or posing anything,” he said. “Some of the photos might look that way, but they’re not.”

Bill McCullough “Lion,” 2010.

Far from being a mere observer, Mr. McCullough is part of the proceedings, being pulled constantly in all directions. “You’ve got a wedding coordinator going, ‘Get ready, they’re going to cut the cake!’ And you’ve got a mom over here saying, ‘Can I have a picture of my mother’ ” he said.

He likens the rush of events to musical improvisation. But when it comes to weddings, where small fortunes collide with big dreams, an unexpected moment where something goes wrong can spell doom. A wedding is, in almost every way, an effort to forestall improvisation. When Mr. McCullough was starting out, however, he was drawn to the idea of having just one chance to get things right.

He relishes both the pageantry and the people. And while he always finds his way into those nooks and crannies, the thick of the frenzy exhilarates him, too.

Lately, he has been fixing his eye on other subjects. In a union of two passions, he photographed the South by Southwest festival last month. He has been shooting a project that he describes as capturing the social aspects of dance â€" of learning and observing. He is also at work on a project in his neighborhood, in which he hangs out in the homes of neighbors until they forget about him or lose their self-consciousness in front of the camera.

Until he’s almost invisible.

“It’s like playing hide-and-seek,” Mr. McCullough said. “You’re negotiating constantly, how you stand and what is your chemistry with the subject matter. For me, that’s such a hard-to-describe thing that maybe even almost can’t really be taught.”

Bill McCullough “Baby, Doll,” 2004.

Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.