I’ve been playing with cameras all my life. My first Kodak was pocket sized. For a time I became obsessed with Instant Polaroid pics (I have many, and they have unfortuantely not aged well, no wonder that company went out of biz). I got a Canon AE-1 in college for my photography courses, and fell in love with developing. I found the world so pretty and artsy in black and white.
Although my dad had a Minox, a tiny little spy camera that gave you teeny tiny dollhouse sized photos you had to blow up to see, I was really the photo documentarian in my family. I mean, before I was born there are photos, but by the time I arrived, 14 years after my first sister, nobody was that interested in getting out the camera anymore. You can count the number of pictures there are of me as a baby. They are precious and special to me because there are so few of them (There are maybe a billion pictures of my kids).
I am always clicking with my i-phone. I love how accessible it makes picture taking. And I finally got a Canon Rebel recently, a nice digital model. Sometimes my kids hide from me, or put their hands up in protest when I try and take their pictures, because they think I take too many. Sometimes they’ll pose. My dog is a frequent subject. Sometimes he goes along with me, and sometimes he’s just like, “Seriously, put that camera away, I am not having a good fur day.”
The thing is, there is so much interesting beauty in so much of the world. I love the intracacies of a leaf, a branch of a tree. I adore the petal of a flower, the sky at dusk, a mountain’s craggy terrain, a person’s face in all its complexity. I am always looking for the deeper meaning in pictures. Even when they’re mundane. The lens of a camera often shows me things I might not ordinarily see.
Which is why I really liked this man’s story of how he got himself out of a depression through photography, because I get it. I am endlessly fascinated by the power of a picture. Take a look at these. They are crazy beautiful. Thanks for sharing William Patino.