Photography to me is more than a hobby or a passion. It’s a compulsion.
What do I get out of it? Developing the photos is expensive. And so was the nice new digicam that I bought. And I do miss the actual moment because my eye is pressed to the lens.
But it’s fine. Moments are forgotten but a photo freezes them forever, to observe and absorb in later reflection. The essence of the moment may only be partly captured, but observing the photograph later adds layers of interpretation.
I’m not a real photographer. Apertures and shutter speeds confuse me. But I do my best. I may not take photos with technical mastery, but the photos I take have heart. It’s not those practiced smiles and poses we freeze for the camera, our arms hastily thrown around each other’s shoulders and then thrown off post the snapping of the shutter. I take pictures of kids, of funny shop signs, of flowers, of just about anything and everything as long as my battery is charged. It’s those candid moments-an uncontrollable laugh, an incredulous expression, or all those myriad people and places you spot that make you realize there are millions of dimensions to this one way dead end we perceive life to be.
Taking photos is like taking a moment home with you. Life drifts you by, like a breeze you can’t catch in a jar. And taking a picture is like actually catching that rainbow and putting in your pocket, or creating a visual impression of the happiness you feel in your heart. Some people might argue that life is meant to be savoured as you live it, and not through a rearview mirror. I agree totally. I know that life is bigger and greater than anyone can control. And I am also not trying to show everyone how I lived it. But I end up taking photos anyway.