A photograph captures a moment in time. It tells a small piece of a narrative, it records an event, or it glimpses into a relationship. Imagine if you will, a photograph of this very moment, or this one. What would that photograph capture?
This morning a series of photographs would reveal the ritual of my daily life. A shot of the cats chasing around in the dark, just before dawn. Me stumbling into the kitchen, nearly dipping my fingers in the water bowl to check to see if the cats need to be fed. Standing at the stove, lighting the burner underneath the red metal tea pot...preparation for the morning tea ceremony.
Odd photographs depict the drudgery of a mind obssessed on organizing the closet...so much so that one snapshot depicts me standing in front of the open closet, pulling item after item out to inspect, fold, and put in an assigned position. Or lugging out the bags of dirty laundry in preparation for the weekly trek to the laundromat. Scooping out the cat box, replacing litter, and twisting the blue plastic bag into a secure knot before heading out the kitchen door to toss the bag in the bin.
Outside on the wooden porch, still in the morning air. Chilly, foggy, and damp. Standing barefoot on the wet wood, I stand, my long red print dress clinging to my legs, listening to the birds singing in the trees. The Sun has not yet risen, so the photograph is dark, illuminating only the spots that hold light. What a photograph can only hint at are the feelings and thoughts that fill the subject. An expression, a look in the eyes, a stance, the juxtaposition of one to another or to an object.
A photograph of me would show a woman propped up on a bed, one she'd already made, a small lap desk on her upper thighs. Another photograph would catch an angle of her hands dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, laying out words in neat phrases and lines. Still another would see me watching the cats playing. What it couldn't catch would be the sounds of one of my cats snoring, his head propped up against the sliding glass door window, already exhausted from his morning romp around the house, satisfied with Fancy Feast in his belly.
A photograph depicts a piece of time, a moment in space, and hints at much more. A photograph is an invitation to go deeper, look more closely, and to use imagination to dream of being somewhere. A photograph transports you through time and space, and wakes up the senses with a simple stirring of memory. A photograph invites you to dream or forget or keep exploring.
Since my first adventures in a photographic dark room many years ago, photography has held a special place in my heart and life. My Father gifted me with his beautiful 35mm camera, and invited me, without a word, to go wandering, to look deeper, and to remember. Always to remember, the special times I've recorded in a life full of rich moments and relationships. His gift of a tool and his invitation to use the tool, has given me a new vocation and a way into art that might otherwise have eluded me. It has made me aware of my own unique view, my eye for beauty and my sense of detail.
In the darkroom, I learned to look deeper. To isolate a piece of the whole in order to highlight some unique feature. Photographs can expand to include more, or shrink to leave things and people out. Photographs tell a story, a piece of the tale. Holding a photograph of an old lover in my hand today, I wonder if burning that piece of history will do anything at all to erase his memory? Photographs help us or require us to hold onto something that is in the past. Is that a good thing, or not? Ask me when I make my decision about burning this one.
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