The album that was only good

A wedding photographer in Salmiya has a family who keep coming back. She photographed the eldest daughter, then a son, then a cousin. When the latest album is delivered, the mother turns the pages slowly and says, kindly, that the first one was better.

The photographer nods. Sometimes the mother is right.

It would be easy to hear that as a verdict. Something has slipped, the eye has gone stale, the good years are behind. A nervous maker might start chasing the old album, trying to stage the same shots, or stop trying new things in case they are compared.

But the remark only exists because there was an album worth remembering. A photographer who never made anything memorable would never hear it. Nobody tells a beginner that last year's work was stronger. The comment is evidence of a history, not a fall.

And work does not climb in a straight line. Some evenings the light is flat. Some couples are stiff in front of a lens. Some seasons the photographer is more rested, or the idea simply arrives cleaner. The next album is not obliged to beat every album before it, and most will not.

What makes the remarkable ones possible is the run of ordinary ones around them. The work that is only good is where the eye keeps learning, and where the next surprising picture is quietly being prepared.

So the mother can say it. The photographer can agree, pack up the lenses and take the next booking. Hearing that this one is not the best is part of the arrangement for anyone who has ever made a best one.