First Shoot

I picked up my first camera when I was around nine years old. I started photographing old barns and houses. Silos. Even as a kid, I loved the stories surrounding these structures that were in disrepair, falling down, abandoned. At the time I didn't know how to bring out the best in what I was seeing. Just somehow, I knew there was something there.

Fast forward to college. I decided to minor in photography, and it was through these classes that I was able to bring out the best in what I saw through the viewfinder. The photo that truly showed me I have "a good eye" happened during a class trip to Chicago, to the Art Institute. After our tour, we gathered on the sidewalk in front of the Institute. To one side there is a park-like area with seating, trees, and flowers. It was springtime, so the trees were just leafing out. I turned to watch the people and noticed two men sitting on separate benches underneath the trees. One man, a white man, was looking straight ahead. The other man, African-American, with a tweed driving cap, was looking down at his feet, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped. I raised my camera and snapped a few pictures. When we returned home I did the usual: I went into the darkroom and began developing the film and then some photos.

The next class period I put up one of the images I'd taken of the two men. I knew in my heart it was really good. The first response I received was from a classmate I admired. He knew his way around a camera, the darkroom, and created wonderful pictures. The moment he looked at my photo, he turned to me and said, "Wow!" Then, the photography instructor looked at my photo, looked at me, and smiled. You know, that kind of smile that says way more than words ever could. That was my defining moment of being a photographer. 

But I didn't do anything with my photography. And at some point during the many moves of my life, the photo of those two men as well as the negative for that photo got lost. I've thought about that photo many times over the years, sadness filling me over letting such possibility go squandered.

So here I am now, standing at the trailhead of winter. And I'm ready to walk the path I should have taken years ago. I've gathered the equipment, I've been relearning much of what I'd learned back in my photography classes, and I've spent time getting to know my cameras again. I took a deep breath, went way outside my comfort zone and reached out to strangers, asking if I can photograph their dogs to get a portfolio put together. The response was so positive, and last evening I completed my first shoot in a long, long time. 

Maggie


Comments

J said…
I'm so glad you're picking up your camera again. The world will be better off for it.
Love,
Jen George
August 12, 2023 at 8:50 PM
JK said…
It feels so good to have it in my hands again. I am so, so glad to hear from you!
August 12, 2023 at 11:54 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Marigolds

Image
The smell of marigolds isn't completely pleasant. It's not completely offensive either. It's somewhere in between. It's a smell all its own. Hours after my hands have moved their long stems, cupped the blooms in wonder, I have to pause what I'm doing -- making the bed, vacuuming the house, hanging up clothes that had been unceremoniously dropped on the bedroom floor -- when the faint whiff of marigold drifts up to remind me of my time with them. Marigolds are just lovely. Whenever I see a marigold or smell a marigold, I'm taken back to my childhood. To a movie that for some reason became a part of who I am. I was only eight when the movie came out, but I remember having a very strong reaction to it, and every summer when I plant marigolds, I think of that movie: The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigolds. I try to watch it at least once a year, and since the marigolds I planted this summer are blooming, I thought the time is perfect to watch the movie
Read more

Night Sky

Image
I had dinner with friends last evening. In their screened-in patio overlooking a wooded backyard leading to a creek. The air cooled significantly as the sky darkened, and at one moment we all enjoyed watching an owl that had taken perch on a tree limb near the creek. While a movie played, we chatted and ate ice pops. I'm pretty sure mine was grapefruit. At least that's what I'm going with.  Not long after the movie ended, I made my way home, which wasn't far. Just a couple of blocks. Cicada, cricket, and frog song drifted on the cool air, and when I looked up, I saw a clear sky full of stars. We've not had a clear night in some time. I stopped in the middle of the street to take in the scene. When I finally arrived home I decided to try and get some night sky photos, something I've never done before. I had no idea what I was doing. I spent twenty minutes or so on the front porch, swaying in my hammock swing as I read an article about astrophotography. What lens
Read more

Profoundly Sad Today and I Don't Know Why

Image
I'm right at the edge today, fearing I might step off if the just-right reason shows up. What the just-right reason is, I don't know, but I guess if I end up dissolving into the tears that seem to be threatening, I'll know then. I'm trying to be analytical about the feeling pressing against the back of my eyes and through my nasal passages, hoping that analysis will help the feeling go away. It's not really working. Sleep eluded me most of the night. Once or twice a month I have a night sleep just won't come. I go to bed tired, but after an hour or two of sleep, I'm wide awake. Tossing, mostly onto my back and my left side. I don't sleep on my right side since my vertigo incident. I actually prefer my right but I'm afraid I'll trigger another bout of dizziness. Sleep laughed at me and slithered off to bathe someone else in dreamland. I'm pretty sure lack of sleep is part of today's slipping into sadness. That and thoughts of Ado. I miss h
Read more