About Me

Whenever anyone asks me why I enjoy photography, I’m never satisfied with my own answer. I tend to give some unimaginative word jumble that mostly amounts to “it’s fun” or “it gets me out of the house.” It’s not that these things are untrue, but I often give that answer clumsily though a nervous stutter as I feel the warmth of cheeks turning red in some involuntary refusal to answer honestly, because at the end of the day, at face value, they’re just pictures, right? Just a simple moment in time where something caught my eye. It feels maybe too much to talk about how these moments don’t just catch my eye, but they demand my attention, pulling at the collar of my shirt with an ever tightening grip that will only loosen the moment I take the shot. Moments like when a cat sits in the windowsill all afternoon, the breath from her wet nose gently fogging the glass, waiting to welcome her human when they get home from work. When a raindrop reaches back to up towards the cloud it fell from for just a split second the moment it splashes into into a puddle on the cracked and uneven sidewalk. Or, the way a curly haired little boy looks up at his mother with a bright smile for absolutely no reason other than knowing he would get a smile in return. Moments like these are where I feel that pull.

The problem with these moments is the second they’re born is the same instant they turn to memory and slowly begin to drift to the back of your mind. Day after day, year after year, the further and further it goes, fading. But, my camera and I can give them time. The time to wait, with great patience and good intentions, for the moment someone spares a quick glance or takes the time to offer an entire gaze, providing a chance for that moment to feel present and appreciated once again.

Yes, I get it. They’re just pictures, but for the eventual days where you get home and your windowsill is now empty after a long day at the office, you can be welcomed home again whenever you need. When you’ve moved away for college, far from your family for the first time, and you feel like you’re alone, you have the raindrop, reminding you where you came from. When a mother misses her son, now away at school, she has a small piece of his soul in a frame to remind her she has his whole heart. If you were to ask me why I play around with a camera and tie me down to my chair and require that I answer with the genuine vulnerability my body normally rejects when asked this question, I would tell you that I get that they’re just random moments, but these moments beg for eternity and they deserve it. I would tell you they’re just pictures, sure, but they mean everything to me.