Revd Fr Anthony Searle

I was genuinely delighted with this photograph of Revd Fr Anthony Searle, the Team Rector of All Saints Church, High Wycombe. It was taken for a magazine article in 2024, and it’s one of those frames where everything quietly came together.

I tend to shoot early in the morning whenever I can, and in this case it was particularly useful — a vicar’s day often starts well before most people have had their first coffee. The light was cold and pre–golden hour, that pale blue you only get in early spring. Not dramatic, not warm, but calm and honest. There was just enough of a breeze in the air to keep things alive, occasionally lifting the edge of his rainbow stole.

That movement turned out to be key.

Technically, the setup was simple and deliberate. A single flash head, tightly controlled with a 40-degree honeycomb, just enough to lift Anthony from the background without overpowering the ambient light. I wanted the stonework of the church to stay cool and austere — that blue-grey granite has a wonderful, almost monastic severity — while allowing the stole to do what it naturally does: speak.

We tried a number of poses, most of them perfectly respectable and entirely forgettable. At some point, as often happens, I abandoned formality and said something deliberately daft. I honestly can’t remember the exact wording, but it was probably along the lines of:
“Do something religious — can you do miracles, or is that a higher pay grade?”
Something cheeky, slightly irreverent, and very much designed to break the rhythm.

And it worked.

Anthony lifted his arms in response — half blessing, half theatrical surrender — at exactly the moment the breeze caught the stole and sent it into motion. That coincidence is what makes the frame. The gesture feels open, welcoming, lightly humorous, but still entirely appropriate. There’s warmth there, and confidence, and a quiet sense of joy.

What really seals it for me is the contrast. The vivid colour of the rainbow stole — a clear symbol of inclusion and openness — against the cold, ancient stone of the church. Tradition and progress sharing the same frame, without tension, without explanation. It doesn’t shout. It simply is.

I love images like this because they remind me why I enjoy editorial portraiture so much. You can plan the light, control the background, choose the lens — but the moment itself is always a collaboration between subject, circumstance, and a bit of luck. When all three line up, even briefly, you get something that feels effortless, even though you know it wasn’t.

This one still makes me smile.