Being a Queer Wedding Photographer in Glasgow (and Why Representation Actually Matters).

I’m a wedding photographer.

I’m also gay.

Those things aren’t separate.

Not because every wedding I photograph needs to become an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and not because I arrive at your venue by descending from the ceiling to Hung Up by Madonna. (Although, depending on the venue, I’m open to discussions.)

It matters because weddings are incredibly personal things. You’re inviting somebody into one of the biggest days of your life, giving them a camera and essentially saying: here you go, follow us around for ten hours while we cry, winch, get pissed and have several minor family emergencies.

You probably want to feel comfortable around that person.

And for queer couples, sometimes there’s another little question sitting underneath all the normal wedding planning:

Are we actually going to be comfortable being ourselves around them?

I know that feeling because I’ve been on both sides of it.

I photograph queer weddings across Glasgow and Scotland and the UK. I’ve photographed hundreds of weddings over the years, I’ve been the gay dude working in an overwhelmingly straight wedding industry, and – plot twist – I’ve now had my own wedding too.

So I have thoughts. Obviously. SOOO.

The wedding industry is still incredibly straight

Weddings are weird when you actually stop and think about them.

So much of the traditional wedding industry is built around one very specific template.

Bride.

Groom.

Bridesmaids.

Groomsmen.

Father of the bride.

The dudes getting ready over here.

The girls getting ready over there.

The groom definitely hates photographs.

The bride has apparently been dreaming about chair covers since she was six.

Everyone knows their assigned role.

Except sometimes there are two brides.

Sometimes there are two grooms.

Sometimes there isn’t a bride or a groom.

Sometimes somebody is non-binary.

Sometimes the wedding party isn’t divided neatly by gender.

Sometimes nobody is being “given away”.

And sometimes the groom has actually thought about the flowers- Revolutionary stuff.

None of this is particularly complicated.

But you’d be surprised how quickly the traditional wedding script starts falling apart when you remove the assumption that every wedding contains one man and one woman.

And that’s where representation matters.

Being gay genuinely affects how I photograph weddings

I’m not going to pretend being a gay wedding photographer gives me some sort of mystical ability to photograph queer people.

I don’t wake up every morning and receive instructions from Kylie (spiritually sometimes, not telepathically).

But I do think my own experience changes the way I approach people.

I’ve spent enough of my life being aware of how I exist in certain spaces to understand why feeling comfortable matters.

I know what it’s like to walk into somewhere and quickly work out:

Can I completely be myself here?

Most straight people probably don’t have to think about whether casually mentioning their husband is going to change the atmosphere in a room.

Gay people can become incredibly good at doing that calculation without even realising we’re doing it.

Wedding planning shouldn’t involve it.

You shouldn’t be looking through a photographer’s website thinking, They seem good… but have they ever actually photographed two men before?

You shouldn’t have to send an enquiry and awkwardly work out whether the person on the other end is going to be “fine with it”

And you definitely shouldn’t have to spend your wedding day explaining your relationship to the person you’ve paid thousands of pounds to document it.

I want queer couples to land on my website and immediately understand:

You don’t have to explain yourself here. It’s a safe place.

And then I became the gay groom

Getting married myself gave me an entirely different perspective on weddings.

Because suddenly I wasn’t the photographer.

I couldn’t hide behind a Canon and pretend I was busy.

Rude.

I was the person being photographed.

And marrying Jackson made me realise even more how important it is to have people around you who simply understand.

There’s a massive difference between somebody being accepting and somebody making you feel completely normal.

I don’t particularly want to be “accepted”.

It sounds like I’ve applied for planning permission.

I just want to exist.

And that’s what I want for the couples I photograph too.

Your wedding doesn’t need to become A Gay Wedding™ unless that’s exactly what you want.

Maybe you’re getting married in kilts in a castle.

Maybe it’s Glasgow City Chambers and dinner afterwards.

Maybe it’s 150 people and absolute carnage.

Maybe it’s 20 people, a restaurant and several bottles of wine.

Maybe there are drag queens.

Maybe your gran would have a cardiac event if there were drag queens.

All valid.

Queer weddings don’t have one aesthetic, one personality or one way they’re supposed to look.

That’s sort of the entire point.

Please stop making queer couples perform queerness

This is probably one of the biggest things I’ve learned from photographing LGBTQ+ couples.

I don’t want to photograph queer weddings differently simply because they’re queer.

I want to photograph people. The more interesting the better.

If you’re naturally affectionate, brilliant.

If you’re both deeply uncomfortable with public displays of affection and would rather I launched myself into the Clyde than ask you to dramatically kiss against a wall, also brilliant. (Same tbh).

I’m not interested in turning people into something they’re not because it’ll look good on Instagram.

My photography has always been about genuine moments. I’m nosey first, and photograph second. I like to know what you’re really like. 

The nerves before the ceremony.

Someone absolutely losing it during the vows.

Your pal who’s been drinking prosecco since approximately 10:42am.

Your mum seeing you dressed for the first time.

That tiny look between the two of you during the ceremony that nobody else notices.

And yes, occasionally taking you outside because the light is incredible and I need you to stand in it immediately.

I’m still a photographer.

I have needs.

The awkward stuff

Being queer in the wedding industry has also produced some fairly funny situations over the years.

There is nothing quite like somebody spending an entire conversation assuming you have a wife and eventually asking:

“And what does your wife think?”

“6ft 1 and bearded.”

I’ve got some news.

I’ve also been at enough weddings where people have casually said something vaguely questionable before remembering who they’re talking to.

You can practically watch Windows shut down behind their eyes.

And I don’t actually think most of it comes from somewhere malicious.

Sometimes people are just operating on assumptions they’ve never had to question.

That’s why visibility is important.

The more queer photographers, videographers, celebrants, suppliers and couples are visible in the wedding industry, the less unusual any of it becomes.

That’s the goal.

Not to make queer weddings a novelty.

To make them completely unremarkable.

Representation matters more than sticking a rainbow on your website

Every June, the internet becomes extremely gay.

Corporate logos develop rainbows.

Brands discover Rupaul.

Someone in marketing writes LOVE IS LOVE 🌈 in Canva.

And then July arrives.

Representation isn’t telling queer couples they’re welcome.

It’s showing them they already belong.

There’s a difference.

If you’re a wedding photographer and you genuinely want LGBTQ+ couples to feel comfortable booking you, show queer couples in your portfolio.

Use inclusive language.

Don’t assume everybody contacting you is a bride.

Learn people’s pronouns.

Don’t panic because there are two suits and you don’t know who you’re supposed to photograph putting cufflinks on.

Both of them.

Mystery solved.

For me, being openly gay on my website isn’t a marketing strategy.

It’s just part of who I am.

I’m a wedding photographer.

I’m gay.

I’m married to a man.

I photograph straight couples.

I photograph gay couples.

I photograph lesbian couples.

I photograph trans and non-binary people.

And fundamentally, my job remains exactly the same:

Make people feel comfortable enough that they forget there’s a camera pointing at them.

Glasgow is a brilliant place to have a queer wedding

I love photographing weddings in Glasgow because Glasgow weddings rarely feel overly polished.

There’s usually personality.

There’s usually humour.

There is occasionally a man with his tap aff considerably earlier than expected.

You can have a huge traditional wedding one weekend and then photograph two people walking out of Glasgow City Chambers the next.

And increasingly, I’m seeing queer couples simply having the wedding they actually want rather than trying to squeeze themselves into traditions that weren’t designed with them in mind.

Keep the traditions you like.

Bin the ones you don’t.

Make new ones.

There are no wedding police.

And if there are, I’ve somehow avoided them for more than a decade.

So, do you need a queer wedding photographer?

No.

Obviously not.

There are loads of brilliant straight photographers who photograph LGBTQ+ weddings beautifully and make their couples feel completely comfortable.

Being queer doesn’t automatically make somebody a better photographer.

And being straight doesn’t mean somebody won’t understand you.

But I do think representation matters.

Sometimes seeing somebody like you behind the camera removes a tiny bit of uncertainty.

You don’t have to wonder if holding your partner’s hand is going to make somebody uncomfortable.

You don’t have to explain your relationship.

You don’t have to make yourself slightly smaller.

You can just get married.

I’ll worry about the photographs.

That’s literally my job.

Queer wedding photography in Glasgow & across Scotland

If you’re planning an LGBTQ+ wedding in Glasgow, Edinburgh or anywhere else across Scotland and you’re looking for relaxed, natural wedding photography without the awkward stuff, have a look around my work.

My approach isn’t massively different for queer weddings.

That’s kind of the point.

I’ll document the chaos, the quiet bits, your friends, your families, the ridiculous dancing and all the tiny things you didn’t see happening.

I’ll step in when I’m needed.

Then I’ll step back just as quickly.

And you can get on with having your wedding.

Gay, straight, trans, non-binary, two brides, two grooms, neither, whatever.

Just please don’t make me do a heart with your hands.

We all have boundaries.