Often I have no idea why I am drawn to the subjects in my photographs. But it seems safe to say that they represent my personal interests, artistic sensibilities, and aesthetic style. Collectively, they become my personal vision and form the basis for engagement with an audience.

I will drop everything for a picture that speaks to me. I will run outside in my pajamas in the early morning light to take the photograph of the red couch on the road next to my home. As I am deep in the process, I am struck by the undeniable reality that people are present one day and gone the next. I ponder the meaning of home and what it really means to have a roof over my head. In the span of a shutter release, I am overwhelmed with sadness for those without a home and grateful for my own home in equal measure. The dichotomy between having and not having disturbs my balance so that half of the pictures are out of focus.

Pulling over to take a picture of the shed, nearly swallowed by greenery, it is the yellow door that draws my eye. I am distracted by the man who enters the business behind me, feeling the need to explain my presence so as not to be accused of trespassing. I point to the shed and try to explain, through my mask, my desire to take a picture. The man looks confused, so I try again. I have a kind of single-minded determination to find the most suitable outlet for the vision in my mind. I am not easily deterred from the act of taking pictures. Does this count as creative risk-taking?

 

It started off with trying to find “home”, showing through pictures how it was to be searching for that, and how it was to have these failures. I never set off to do a “I’m going to spend my lifetime telling a very simple autobiography and hoping that there are similarities in other people’s lives.” But that’s kind of what I think I’m doing. That really also excites me, as you go through different stages in life, how that can be told in a photograph.

—Cig Harvey, The Photographic Journal

 

I met my sister for a morning walk around the point in Colonial Beach. The time went fast because we were talking the whole way. I focused my attention on her and set my mind to listening. But after our time together, I knew I wanted to take pictures to remember — people, stories, ideas.

It was so hot, above the 90 degree mark and every scene looked soft and hazy. In my early photography practice, I wouldn’t have even tried to take pictures on a day like this. I would have dismissed the day and its harsh light.

And I would have missed the beauty of a mid-summer’s day.