Romantic Escapism for Couples

My Vision for Painterly Portrait Photography

What if photography wasn’t just about documenting a moment, but about creating a place you'd never want to leave?

This is a personal one.

For years, I described my work as cinematic, painterly, or fine art, yet I always struggled to encapsulate the feeling I was trying to create in just a few words. They all felt true, but none of them explained what I was really searching for. Recently, I realised that the feeling I'd been trying to create had a name: romantic escapism.

Where does it all come from?

I've spent many years studying art history, paintings and visual storytelling. Along the way I've gathered a collection of artistic influences that continue to shape my work today: the Pre-Raphaelites, the Impressionists—particularly J. M. W. Turner—and the seventeenth-century Dutch Masters of the Golden Age.

But before I delve into those influences, there is one memory that has shaped my way of seeing the world and, perhaps unknowingly, set me on the path to becoming the photographer I am today.

- I was four or five years old, sitting on a swing in my grandmother's garden. I would swing as high as I dared beneath a canopy of cherry and pear trees, trying to catch one last glimpse of the setting sun. It was golden and brilliant, and I remember wondering—my introverted philosopher emerging surprisingly early—how anyone could ever truly capture the beauty of a sunset, whether through painting or photography. Looking back now, I realise it wasn't the colours alone that fascinated me.

It was the feeling.

That quiet nostalgia as the day came to rest, ablaze in its most spectacular light before the oncoming night with its dark shroud stole the colours from the world. The bittersweetness was almost tangible. It wasn't simply the loss of daylight; it was a feeling rooted in love, longing for someone and the awareness that beautiful moments are fleeting.

Now, back to the art.

The Romantic painters of the nineteenth century emerged in response to the rapid industrialisation that was transforming Europe. As factories spread and cities grew, the countryside was left wanting; artists turned instead towards the sublime power of nature—not something to be controlled, but something to be admired, respected and even feared. Their paintings were filled with heroism, longing, folklore, medieval history and vast untamed landscapes that reminded us how small we really are.

Then there is Vermeer.

I remember reading Girl with a Pearl Earringalmost twenty years ago. One passage has stayed with me ever since. It described how the sky is never simply blue—it shifts constantly between yellow, violet, grey, white and countless subtle tones as the light changes.

That simple observation changed the way I looked at the world. It taught me to slow down, to observe more deeply, and to appreciate that nothing around us is ever truly still.

Everything is constantly changing. Everything is alive.

Perhaps that is why I naturally gravitated towards painterly photography and fine art portraiture. Towards movement, flowing fabrics caught by the wind, and couples wandering through landscapes rather than simply standing within them. Nature isn't just a backdrop. It becomes part of the story itself.

As a wedding and elopement photographer in Scotland, I don't think there is anywhere more dramatic than our mountains. The ever-changing weather, shifting mist, wild winds and fleeting sunlight become characters within every photograph. They shape the atmosphere just as much as the people within them.

Looking back now, I realise my photography was never influenced by one artist or one style alone. It is the result of years spent collecting fragments of beauty—paintings, literature, films, music, landscapes and quiet moments—and allowing them to settle into something that eventually became my own artistic language.

Perhaps, for that little girl on the swing, romanticising a moment was a way of preserving it forever. A photograph could become somewhere to return to when life feels heavy, a reminder of beauty, hope, love and the fleeting nature of time itself.

For me, photography was once something I admired in the work of others. It feels like a dream that I can now lose myself in creating that same sense of escapism through my own photographs. Whether I am photographing a quiet couples session, a fine art portrait, or an intimate wedding in Scotland, I want every person who steps in front of my camera to feel as though they have wandered into a story where they belong.

It is not simply my profession.

It is my life's work.

So when you step in front of my camera, I don't simply want to photograph what you look like. I want to create the feeling that you've wandered into a story that is still waiting to be written.