HEY I'm Aaron.

I already run one photography business that works. This is the other half of it.

A smiling man with gray hair and beard, wearing a brown oversized T-shirt and blue jeans, sitting on a beige chair, holding a camera, in front of a plain white wall.

Magpie Magpie is my wedding business. Thirty weddings in the last two years across Norfolk and Suffolk, and it pays for itself.

Which matters more than it sounds, because a wedding is the least forgiving job in photography. One take. No reshoot. Forty people who'd rather not be photographed, a schedule that's already slipping, and a room that's too dark. You learn to work fast, read people, and come back with the shots anyway.

That's the whole skill set a commercial job needs, minus the confetti.

Here's the other useful bit:

I notice things. The thumbprint on the glass that'll cost you an hour in retouching. The fire extinguisher growing out of your MD's head. The cable nobody clocked and the reflection of me in the fridge door. I see them before the shutter, not three weeks later when the packaging is at the printers.

You get the other side of that too. I'll notice one chair is out of line and it will quietly bother me until it's fixed. Same wiring, and on a commercial shoot it's the thing you're paying for.

  • Thirty weddings taught me to work fast. BUT I can't walk past a crooked label IT'S ALL ABOUT THE DETAILS.

HOW DID I GET HERE?

Someone gave me a camera when I was small and I never really put it down. Then life happened, and for a long stretch it was just a thing I did at weekends.

Lockdown is where it turned. I taught myself graphic design, then how to build websites, then spent the rest of it getting properly good with a camera again. Somewhere in there I was diagnosed with ADHD, which explained a great deal — including why I can spot a crooked label from across a room and then just can't let the bloody thing go.

In 2024 I stopped calling it a hobby and started Magpie Magpie photography, my wedding business, with a fairly obvious plan: do this full time.

It's gone better than I expected. Thirty weddings in two years and five stars across the board.

Salt and Flint is the next bit — same eye, pointed at food, product, interiors and people instead.

I think in pictures, so I'll usually turn up with an idea you didn't ask for. You can bin it. I'd rather bring you three and have you throw two away than shoot exactly what was on the list and nothing else.

Worth a conversation?

No pitch deck, no hard sell. Fifteen minutes on the phone tells us both whether this is a fit.

Fill in this form and I will be back to you.