I'm not very good at them. I'm not good at looking even remotely dignified (or sane) in them, and I'm not good at taking them. For whatever reason, they just aren't a wavelength that I can jive on.
Most of the snapshots of me that exist from the past decade or so were taken of me by classmates on field trips. There are a handful taken by family, and a handful taken under various other circumstances, but that's about it. Entire chapters of my life have little to no photographic evidence. What photographic evidence does exist generally indicates that I am eternally 16 years old, and possibly rabid.
It's not like I'm prone to taking them, myself, though. I've gone years without owning a functional camera, and the Nikon D60 that I bought over the summer is the first decent camera that I've owned since early high school. Even when I have had a camera, including now, I'm just not inclined to take pictures of day to day life. If I'm going to take pictures, I do it purposefully, and as its own activity.
When I left on this latest round of travel, multiple people urged me to take pictures. And I'm trying, I really am. But... I've been busy hiking! And having challenging conversations! And building fires! And, of course, getting naked for art! My Nikon hasn't come out in a week or so. The best I've managed is taking a camera phone shot of Jitterbug at most new locations. Today it was a shot her looking bored and slightly surly by a cactus at Saguaro National Park. It isn't much, but it's a heck of a lot more than I've ever done in the past.
Ultimately though, my mind just isn't wired for snapshots. If I'm going to play a role in creating an image, I want it to be purposeful. Whether as subject or photographer, I can't go halfway. There will be intent, or there will be nothing.
..well... except for an unimpressed dog with a cactus, I suppose. There will always be that.
Friday, January 22, 2010
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