Kat, over at "The Kat Eye View of the World" challenged those of us taking her course, "Finding Your Eye," to figure out why we shoot pictures. I've been mulling it around in this already overcrowded brain of mine these past few days.
And, I've finally decided, that I'm trying to capture the magic, whether it's an abandoned building with the most gorgeous layers of colors or my grandson't smile.
I find myself taking pictures of "things" far more often than people. When I do shoot people (Doesn't that sound awful?), they're family members. I want to capture the babies, my dad as he ages, my husband's grin. It's all going by so terribly fast.
The camera helps me to "focus" on all the tiny details of life, especially the ones I could so easily overlook as I rush to get things done. The camera slows me down, gives me a chance to breathe. It gives me a chance to tell my story, and I firmly believe that we need to tell our stories. After all, as someone said, if we don't tell our stories, someone else will. And, that someone else is going to get it wrong. I want my grandchildren not only to see me as "Baba," but as a woman in her own right as well.
Color, line, and texture grab my attention. I don't remember my first camera; it seems as if I've always owned one. And, of course, the first shots were willy nilly. I chopped off heads, for example, and it amuses me not end that what people once told me was a bad shot, is now considered "arty!"
My camera is a natural extension of my arm; it feels right. It feels like it belongs there, and it does.
I need, and need is not too strong a word, to capture the magic of the everyday, to preserve memories, to tell my story. I get lost for hours when I'm shooting. And, even when I'm not, my mind's eye snaps away, framing the magic in my mind.