Weddings don’t happen all year round and as much as I enjoy them that’s a good thing. The autumn-winter break is welcomed, it gives me a chance to do other work and means that when weddings start again I’m eager to go again.

I am a big fan of variety, people often ask me what ‘type’ of photography I do and I like that I say “all sorts”.  Any profession can become monotonous but with photography it constantly offers different scenarios which keeps it engaging and then when you’re willing to diversify ‘types’ that variety is multiplied.
Throughout the year I undertake commercial work and one of the reasons I own a 35ft selfie stick is because I take photos of some quite sizeable properties inside and out, a lot of clients often pass comment about it being an interesting job and I always agree.

I have travelled around Derbyshire and neighbouring counties in order to showcase people’s property, to help to get it noticed and sold.  I have seen a range of properties: the classical country house, the practical working farm, the cute country cottage and the flash architectural masterpiece just to name a few…. but the one type of property that’s always the most memorable to me is the empty home.
Why does a property get sold? In the main a vendor upsizes and a vendor downsizes- but such is life very often a house needs to be sold as it no longer has a use as the previous occupants are no longer here.

After the family have cleared the home and the estate agents have taken their particulars I am handed a set of keys, I enter the property to record the visual details to accompany the numbers and diagrams.
Let’s face it, later in life there will come a point where drastically updating your home’s style is no longer viable so in the region of 30+ years later a house now can look exactly as it did in the 70’s & 80’s. I have stepped back in time before and it’s been incredible- so many modern designers try to emulate certain nostalgic styles and then I step in to what appears to be a Swiss chalet or the set of A Clockwork Orange in rural Staffordshire. 

But it is also often a sad and haunting experience. I am stood recording what is left of someone’s existence.  Walls that once reverberated with laughter now only listen to the sound of my shutter. Gardens that once had children and grandchildren trample the flowers now only have to cope with my two feet as I politely try to find the best angle to frame the building.  What ends up on my memory card is very often the end of an era, as I shoot away I am more than aware of this fact.

In a way it’s the end of a life cycle that probably and quite ironically started with a wedding.  But just as I imagine and interpret the past when there, the new buyer will see the future.  Life goes on and that house will become a home again.