Four Reasons
There are four reasons why my photos exist. The first is experience. The moment has to move me, mean something overwhelming real to my heart, or there's no need to keep it. The story behind a picture should never be: "I went out to take pictures". Everything is experiential, I can't be some kind of heartless artist when I should be looking and living. That's what a "professional" photographer does, not a real person. I look as long as it takes, in a rush or in some way meditatively, but always in the moment.
The second reason is when. That means more than subject matter, especially when I know my neighborhood so well. The light and weather is steadily reshaping definition, retelling the same story in a thousand different ways. Even the dullest subject can have a possible spark of magic, so fleeting that it'll move me in a way it might never again. I always care more for when than where.
But the third reason is still where, absolutely. The same places keep calling me back, many dozens of times again. Abandoned buildings (lived-in ones too), ocean views, wide vistas, and small town streets. Beat-up asphalt back roads, and trails through the forest. More than anything, the relationship of human nature. What I mean is, where humans and nature meet, that very tenuous edge of encroaching overgrowing, like vines over tombstones or weedy farmer's fields. Then there's people, the constantly shifting subjects I can take with me, self-portraits and others, giving context to every surrounding. We are the moveable where.
The final reason is technical. Most photographers place this higher up, the need to do it well and do it right. But if I'm not laughing or crying, absolutely overwhelmed with beauty and excitement and loneliness, good photographs are just pretty little lies. There's the basic expectations – focus, level, shutter speed. But I have an expectation for honesty of colour, the aperture opening to let the right amount of light to breathe. I have an obsession with a heartwaking style, the imagination come to life, the dreams made flesh that I'm living in. I'm not a photoshopper, so I've got that one and only chance to get it right.
What little I know about photography is essential to getting it across. You can remember most moments with a quick point and shoot, a cell phone or anything. That's admirable, and I love the accessibility of pictures. But baby, I need that last little reason to wake up my dreams, the subtle edge of good glass and sensor sensitivity. These photos are my version of magic, holy little moments that make me believe in getting out of bed. Couldn't do this life without them.
December 7, 2018
Inglewood, Nova Scotia
facebook | instagram | twitter | tumblr | youtube | etsy
You can support my work
get things in the mail
and see everything
first on Patreon
Four Reasons
There are four reasons why my photos exist. The first is experience. The moment has to move me, mean something overwhelming real to my heart, or there's no need to keep it. The story behind a picture should never be: "I went out to take pictures". Everything is experiential, I can't be some kind of heartless artist when I should be looking and living. That's what a "professional" photographer does, not a real person. I look as long as it takes, in a rush or in some way meditatively, but always in the moment.
The second reason is when. That means more than subject matter, especially when I know my neighborhood so well. The light and weather is steadily reshaping definition, retelling the same story in a thousand different ways. Even the dullest subject can have a possible spark of magic, so fleeting that it'll move me in a way it might never again. I always care more for when than where.
But the third reason is still where, absolutely. The same places keep calling me back, many dozens of times again. Abandoned buildings (lived-in ones too), ocean views, wide vistas, and small town streets. Beat-up asphalt back roads, and trails through the forest. More than anything, the relationship of human nature. What I mean is, where humans and nature meet, that very tenuous edge of encroaching overgrowing, like vines over tombstones or weedy farmer's fields. Then there's people, the constantly shifting subjects I can take with me, self-portraits and others, giving context to every surrounding. We are the moveable where.
The final reason is technical. Most photographers place this higher up, the need to do it well and do it right. But if I'm not laughing or crying, absolutely overwhelmed with beauty and excitement and loneliness, good photographs are just pretty little lies. There's the basic expectations – focus, level, shutter speed. But I have an expectation for honesty of colour, the aperture opening to let the right amount of light to breathe. I have an obsession with a heartwaking style, the imagination come to life, the dreams made flesh that I'm living in. I'm not a photoshopper, so I've got that one and only chance to get it right.
What little I know about photography is essential to getting it across. You can remember most moments with a quick point and shoot, a cell phone or anything. That's admirable, and I love the accessibility of pictures. But baby, I need that last little reason to wake up my dreams, the subtle edge of good glass and sensor sensitivity. These photos are my version of magic, holy little moments that make me believe in getting out of bed. Couldn't do this life without them.
December 7, 2018
Inglewood, Nova Scotia
facebook | instagram | twitter | tumblr | youtube | etsy
You can support my work
get things in the mail
and see everything
first on Patreon