Mine was always supportive, even when she hadn't a clue about what it took. The thing is, we were together for fifty-four years because we met at school; she even helped me buy my first camera on our pocket money and always was fully aware that I wanted to work with models in fashion and related work. There were no hidden, post-marital shocks.
When she eventually became a partner in the business and we could afford to travel and work on shoots together, I think she came to dislike photography. Perhaps it wasn't so much photography as the creepy business side of it; she found it hard to accept the roundabout way that some British males had about getting down to business. For example: a printer was doing a calendar for me down in England and we went there to check out the machine proofs; he had already mentioned that his company was negotiating a shoot for a client of theirs (they also did stock business calendars bigtime) and they were keen that I take on the photography. Anyway, we all went to dinner and after much food and wine they came down to the guts of the thing: money. My wife could hardly keep a straight face thinking about how they had thought to wine me up before geting to the nitty gritty; she couldn't understand why they couldn't have simply opened with that right away and got it over with, sober. Anyway, we did agree a price but the job fell through - it was supposed to be shot on a boat in Antibes, but the boat owner got in touch and demanded that I shoot 4x5. Turns out he wanted the shoot to provide him with images to sell the boat. Yeah, right; I'll shoot a girlie calendar on 4x5 to suit the location owner. So in the end, the entire thing had been nothing but a good dinner with lots of pent-up giggles from my wife. Boy, do I miss her; not a lot of giggles around anymore - pent-up or open. It all feels like a crock of shit at times.
Rob C