Photography. It’s a way to tell a story without speaking. It’s art. It’s expression. It’s perception. When it’s candid, it’s honest. When it’s posed for, you just never know… It captures a moment that, in the absence of memory, may be otherwise lost forever.
I have always had a great love for photography. I recall being a young girl and taking photos with my mom’s instant Polaroid camera. I remember staging scenes and “forcing” those around me to be apart of my photo shoots. This was always fun, but I found the greatest fulfillment in capturing the uncoerced moments. The moments when we don’t know the camera is on us. The real moments.
So silly confession. Sometimes I find myself driving along the streets taking shots with my hands. Yep… lol WITH MY HANDS. We all know the motion. I may pass a moment that moves me in some way. It could be children playing together. SNAP! It could be a couple in the city
lost found in love while listening to a street band playing a song they claimed as “theirs.” SNAP! It could be a homeless man just sitting against a wall in deep thought. Maybe contemplating the events that lead him to that very moment. Yeah… the stories aren’t always pretty, but when they are unpretended, they are truthful and they tell a real story. One moment that sticks out to me is what I assumed was a father with his “Sunday Best” on walking hand in hand with his daughter (again assuming) along the sidewalk. In a day in time where far too frequently daughters (and sons) sometimes never even meet their father, this was beautiful.
Anyway, I have decided to blow the dust off of my camera (again) and in keeping up with the spirit of me finding and living in my own truth, I will also capture the truth around me.