It's not just a photograph. It's life.
I came across this post by Mike Shaw a few weeks ago and was so moved by his description that I would like to share it. It's a sentiment that can be applied to different medias - this one is photography. Thank you Mike for permission to reshare.
This is to answer a question and something I need to say
before I turn in for the night.
I was asked "Why does photography get you so worked up, at the end of the day its just a photograph?"
It is just a photograph if that is all you see, a flat two dimension piece of paper with an image cast upon it.
But from the moment I fist picked up a camera and put my eye to a viewfinder I found something. I found a world different to yours, I found a frame, I found a construct and a way of putting the mundane into the wondrous. I found light and shade, angles and lines, I found reflections in eyes, life in wrinkles and delicate in the folds of flowers. I saw worlds in the dew drops on stems of leaves and watched spiders weave webs beyond the construction of man on gossamer so thin it should not stretch. I found pain in those that hurt and love in the eyes of the close. I found stories in the back streets of the cities, deciphered the code of graffiti and stood in awe of the colours of autumn leaves. I saw clouds that rippled along the water of a lake and the crisp white linen of snow as it sheeted a mountain. I have been enveloped in the mist of the morning and lost in its later fog. I sought the lights of the city streets as it played with the shadows of passing strangers. I felt the texture of sandstone and let the sand from a beach flow through my fingers. The wind through the trees in a forest have sung to me so many melodies I now sing along and the birdsong is my choir. I have sat so many times, so many many times and watched the sun rise and it has never failed to fill me with so much awe, so much wonder, so much love of a star that sits so many millions of miles away but still manages to warm both my body and my soul.
It's not just a photograph.
It's life.
I was asked "Why does photography get you so worked up, at the end of the day its just a photograph?"
It is just a photograph if that is all you see, a flat two dimension piece of paper with an image cast upon it.
But from the moment I fist picked up a camera and put my eye to a viewfinder I found something. I found a world different to yours, I found a frame, I found a construct and a way of putting the mundane into the wondrous. I found light and shade, angles and lines, I found reflections in eyes, life in wrinkles and delicate in the folds of flowers. I saw worlds in the dew drops on stems of leaves and watched spiders weave webs beyond the construction of man on gossamer so thin it should not stretch. I found pain in those that hurt and love in the eyes of the close. I found stories in the back streets of the cities, deciphered the code of graffiti and stood in awe of the colours of autumn leaves. I saw clouds that rippled along the water of a lake and the crisp white linen of snow as it sheeted a mountain. I have been enveloped in the mist of the morning and lost in its later fog. I sought the lights of the city streets as it played with the shadows of passing strangers. I felt the texture of sandstone and let the sand from a beach flow through my fingers. The wind through the trees in a forest have sung to me so many melodies I now sing along and the birdsong is my choir. I have sat so many times, so many many times and watched the sun rise and it has never failed to fill me with so much awe, so much wonder, so much love of a star that sits so many millions of miles away but still manages to warm both my body and my soul.
It's not just a photograph.
It's life.
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