Rajkumar Jeevaraj is a photographer who loves to create profound memories for couples through his tailored signature portraits. Rooted in authenticity and spontaneity, his approach is well-acclaimed.
Asian Photography spoke to him about beginnings, emotions, signature shots, experiments and more. Excerpts:
How did you begin shooting weddings, especially creative portraits surrounding the wedding day?
It all began when I photographed my friend’s big day on my phone and showcased the pictures to his family. Watching them get emotional was a turning point for me where I felt deeply connected to how they were feeling. It struck me that these images would stay with them for life, and I wanted to keep creating that kind of emotion.
That’s also why I began exploring creative portraits—because I wanted every couple’s story to feel exclusive to them. No templates and recycled frames. Just something that is unmistakably theirs. So I started experimenting: reflections, different lighting, silhouettes, perspectives that surprise. Every couple gets signature portraits that are crafted just for them. It’s my way of making sure their story isn’t just remembered, but felt.
You seem to place a lot of emphasis on natural light and emotion. How do you plan and capture these moments?
I plan by understanding natural light’s character at different times of day. In Indian weddings, the schedule is more of a gentle suggestion than a rule, so I adapt to whatever the day throws at me. I let the light guide the frame, shaping each shot based on its mood, intensity, and direction in the moment.
I don’t force emotion, I notice them. I stay alert for the quiet glances, the in-between gestures, the tiny cracks where something real happens and escapes. My job is to anticipate those moments and be there before they disappear. I don’t over-direct because the best emotion doesn’t follow instructions. It just happens and natural light, when it hits right, makes it feel even more honest.
How do you create an environment that encourages that level of relaxed spontaneity?
Creating comfort starts long before the camera comes out. I make it a point to connect with the couple well before the wedding through phone calls, casual meetings, or just hanging out during a pre-wedding shoot. I want them to feel like they’re being photographed by a friend, not a lurking stranger.
On the shoot day, I keep the energy light. I talk, joke-around, show them a few shots on the camera and break the ice. I also watch their body language closely. Some couples need space; others thrive on direction. So I read the room and adjust.
Once they realise there’s no pressure to pose perfectly, they start being themselves. That’s when the spontaneity kicks in, a laugh, a glance, a quick dance step and I’m just there, ready to catch it without interrupting their flow.
How do you come up with experimental techniques like Diptych? Could you talk to us about your inspirations?
Inspiration for Diptychs came from cinema. I’ve always been drawn to visual match cuts, where they leap across time or space through a shared gesture or emotion. Like in Forrest Gump, when adult Forrest closes his eyes at a bus stop, and the next frame cuts to young Forrest in a hospital bed. Same gesture, different era. No explanation needed, the cut says it all.
That’s exactly what I aim for with diptychs. Two seemingly unrelated images suddenly feel connected—a couple posing under a waterfall or a bride in a field of flowers—both dissolving into soft textures in black and white. I don’t look for visual symmetry, I look for emotional continuity and Diptychs let me create meaning that lives in-between frames; not in what’s happening, but in what it feels like.
How much do you plan in advance, and how much do you leave fully spontaneous on the wedding day?
I plan enough to stay calm, and leave enough room to be surprised. Before a wedding, I scout locations, study the light, understand the flow of rituals, and talk to the couple about what matters most to them. That helps me anticipate key emotional beats, the quiet moment before the bride walks in, or a father’s glance during the rituals.
But once the wedding starts, I let go of control. Indian weddings are wonderfully unpredictable—timelines shift, rituals overlap, and magic shows up where you least expect it. Some of my favourite images happened when I abandoned the shot list and just followed the energy. I move with the crowd, chase the light, and listen more than I direct. It’s not about perfection, it’s about staying present. Planning gives me structure, but spontaneity gives me soul.
Your images include black & white and colour mixes. How do you decide which style suits which shot?
It’s usually the photo that decides not me. Some frames just speak louder in black and white. When colour starts to overpower the emotion, I strip it away. If the story is about expression, stillness, or raw human connection, black and white brings clarity and depth. I let colour stay when it is the heartbeat of the frame like a red sari against a pale sky or the chaos of turmeric flying through the air.
There’s no fixed formula. I go with what the frame demands. Sometimes I shoot something thinking it’s perfect in colour, but later realise it carries more weight in monochrome. Other times, it’s the reverse. I trust my instinct more than any rulebook. At the end of the day, it’s not just about how the image looks. It’s about how it feels and which version tells that moment’s truth with the most honesty and soul.
Looking back at your journey so far, what key lesson has shaped you the most as a wedding photographer? And how do you see that influencing your next chapter?
For years, I believed control made a good wedding photographer—turns out, it just made me miss more. When I started out a decade ago, I clung to shotlists like a tourist with a map—terrified of missing a landmark. I’d write down every frame I had to get, obsessed over ticking them off, and felt gutted if one didn’t happen. But with time, and a lot of missed moments, I realised that the tighter I held the camera, the less I actually saw.
Now I shoot with a lot more freedom. I’ve leaned into a photojournalistic approach, where I observe more, intervene less, and let things unfold. Like this moment from a Haldi ceremony , what began as a choreographed splash turned wonderfully unpredictable when a kid threw the entire pot instead of just the water. That flying vessel? Completely unplanned. The next chapter is about being in sync with the chaos, not correcting it.
