all in the eyes of the beholder

I was talking with a friend the other day about photography. About lighting, composition and the like. I love photography. Truly, I love looking at the world through a lens. Just sitting - watching and waiting for that perfect shot. That perfect moment. And while I love a highly thought out photograph - with the best lighting, focus, composition and structure - I also have a philosophy that a picture can lack all of these things and still be good. I believe that true photography does not just capture a pretty face or breathtaking sunset. It captures emotion. It captures feeling. It captures memory. It captures existence.

I have taken photographs before where I have followed all the ‘rules’ and the end result is ultimately ‘textbook perfect’. However, that end result is also ultimately dead. It lacks feeling and emotion. I have always gone for the more natural shot - the unposed one. The one where you see true relationships and beautiful emotion (in whatever form). Some of my very favorite shots were taken with disposable cameras, with horrible lighting, headless subjects and a fuzzy, out of focus appearance. And yet I treasure them. I value them because they radiate a treasured emotion. They bring back laughs and memories. They may bring back sadness, and lessons won. And while they may not warrant a place in my portfolio - they certainly have a beloved place in my heart and home.

Why am a mentioning all this? No particular reason. But, I did have to remind myself of my own philosophy the other day. While at the park, I was trying to get ‘just the right shot’ of Ammon swinging. No dice. I kept the huffing, puffing and cussing to a minimum while we were there - but I couldn’t help but get aggravated while uploading the pictures later on. But then… I found this one and heard a faint chuckle cross my lips. While it isn’t ‘textbook perfect’, it radiates my child’s personality. Squinting violently because the sun is in his eyes, yet his stubbornness means he won’t look away; sticking his tongue out because he’s excited; flapping his arms, fingers stretched wide, because he probably touched something and got some sort of grit in all those creases. And I laughed because he is so silly. I chuckled thinking about that afternoon. My heart warmed at the memory of that giddy glee that lasted for just a fraction of a second before ‘Freak Out!’. My whole being swells because he is mine.

It isn’t ‘textbook perfect’. No --- he isn’t even looking at the camera and he certainly isn’t posed. And yet… I’ve found my perfect shot.

Dorothea Lange : While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see.