Sunday, May 16, 2010
I went out to take photos at 5:30am on Saturday. I left with a warm sweater, my funky hat and my camera. I loved the silence of the town at that hour and debated standing at the busy intersection and taking a picture of the stop lights just to prove it could be done. I didn’t. I headed for the park and took 132 pictures; once I returned home I erased over half and now have about 50.
The problem is that I haven’t taken pictures for over a year and even longer since I’ve had to manually fix the exposure. The little camera couldn’t autofocus with the light of the sunrise. In the past year, I’ve put all my effort on writing and not that much on taking pictures. After all, writing is what I want to be doing. So I need to get out the photo book again and brush up on f stops and stuff.
Of course, such an adventure means finding out a little bit about my soul. I like taking pictures of flowers, animals and water framed by trees. As I walked home I told myself that there are millions of pictures everywhere; but I can’t see them yet. I’m limited by what I allow myself to see and where I look. This no doubt affects my writing, where I see some of the same themes and patterns reoccur and the same issues cause me trouble.
I need to see further, I need to know there are more options than what I believe there are.