I love photography. And everything about it.
I love picking up one of my cameras and popping a fresh roll of refrigerated film (or a memory card) into it and going out. The weight, the heft. My hand wrapped around the electro/mechanical tool.
I love exploring alleys around my home and my city and finding something new every time. The architecture, the daily characters I meet. My eye guiding my feet and my hand pointing the way.
I love revisiting spots I’ve shot before and finding something new. The graffiti that will soon be painted over, a new perspective. Looking here and there, seeing what others miss.
I love the sound of the mirror flipping and the shutter firing as I click the release. The click-crish, the chunk-whoosh. Mechanical perfection timing out the exposure.
I love the reaction I get from the people who get featured in my photographs. A laugh, a smile. Connections with strangers who I’ve befriended but will never know.
I love watching my photographs come to life in chemistry and binary. The quick slip of paper into developer, the whip of a slider. Reality altering and art emerging.
I love the smell of vanilla scented stop bath and the sting of fresh fixer in the darkroom.
I love sharing my photographs with the world. A friend’s smile and a stranger’s praise.
I love the people I’ve met in my journey. The wild and the reserved.
I love that I can- for a moment- become one with another. I love stealing souls. Whether it’s desired or not. For that moment in time, for that moment in history, they’re mine.
I love that I can be alone and be surrounded by my friends at the same time and be okay with it thanks to my photography. A friendship based on a moment eternalized by a single click and a series of actuations. I love the gears and the springs firing in unison. A perfect brigade. The most ideal combination of art and science.
I don’t claim to be the best. I don’t even claim to be that good. I just love what I do.
I love that I can see again. I love that I’m no longer blind. I love photography.