This is really gorgeous. Beautifully said, and beautiful work. There are a million pictures of a convention this morning on Twitter, but none of them touch me the way these do. (The children make my heart ache a little, too.) Also, I think it is time to find the black-and-white setting on my DSLR!
I don’t really know if I’m setting out with a clear idea of where this blog post is going. We’ll just call it honest rambling?
I’ve been thinking a lot about why I like photography. For the longest time I actually wanted to be a writer. I toyed with the idea of photography in high school, but I always went back to writing. Words were the link between what I felt and the outside world; between my imagination and chaotic reality. I can’t tell you when exactly that changed, but it did. I don’t even know if it happened slowly, but it did happen. Suddenly words weren’t enough, or rather it felt like my words weren’t enough.
But photography, if I did it right, could say a thousand things in one frame. Photography could be as verbose or as understated as I wanted. All without an utterance.
I could do it…
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