Looking back, looking ahead

One of the things I love about photography is the intimacy of it--or at least, what I perceive as intimacy; I'd bet that there are a fair few legitimate photographers out there shaking their heads at what I just said. But I'm going to pretend, at least for now, that everyone who's reading this is with me and totally gets what I'm trying to say.

Whether it's a self-portrait (which I'm just learning how to take), a portrait, a group shot, or a shot of an inanimate object, there's this inescapable closeness, this unshakable feeling that whatever or whoever you're capturing is, for that moment, totally in your hands. For a second, even if it's just for that second, you connect. It's suddenly your job, and your job alone, to make that person or that object beautiful, and just for that one moment, only your camera can do that. This is why taking candid shots is always such a gamble--and so disappointing when those candid shots don't turn out. Because if that shot turns out blurry or unflattering, you can't just do it over the way you can with a posed shot--that moment is gone forever, and your attempt at capturing it just as it was failed.

I'll be first to admit I'm terrible at candid shots, just learning to take self-portraits, and still struggling with the more technical aspects of photography. It took me an unseemly amount of time to figure out that, no, the f/stop and shutter speed are not in fact the same thing. This is why I'm going to take this opportunity to tell all of my fellow amateur photographers to first and foremost READ THE INSTRUCTION MANUAL THAT COMES WITH YOUR CAMERA. For the love of Pete, save yourself the headache--READ THE DAMN THING BEFORE YOU PICK UP THE CAMERA. Trust me on that.

But technical headaches aside and amateur fumblings notwithstanding, I feel powerful with a camera in my hands. I feel like an artist. I feel like I have the capability to do things that not everybody in the world can do.  I feel strong, I feel smart, I feel beautiful (behind the camera, mind you--put me in front of it and it's a different story entirely). I feel like someone worth paying attention to, and believe me, people do. I learned a long time ago that if you have a camera in your hands, there will inevitably be someone within ten feet who notices and feels the need to pose for you. I don't just feel empowered. I feel complete.

These photos were taken mostly around Christmastime, the most recent being from Superbowl Sunday. I felt a sense of nostalgia while looking at them--and a sense of accomplishment. Because, hey, maybe that's just a slightly overexposed shot of a pack of Gatorade--but it's my slightly exposed shot of a pack of Gatorade. It's what I saw in that moment and what I felt was worth capturing on film. And who knows? Maybe that one weird little picture from New Year's Eve 2012 will be worth something someday. I don't know. All I know is that right now, it's worth something to me.

My first attempt at a self-portrait--I was trying to demonstrate loneliness, hugging the body pillow instead of hugging my girlfriend. I don't know if it worked, but I know that I was damn proud of this shot because it involved mounting the camera so high I was afraid it would fall over, setting the timer, then pressing the button, jumping back into bed, arranging myself around the pillow, and freezing into that pose in the timespan of about ten seconds.