Photography has a lexicon that is sometimes predatory in nature. We speak of shooting or taking shots.
Seeking, finding, hunting for pictures. Capturing, recording and documenting.
I wonder if it would serve us better to think of receiving photographs. Being open to them. Accepting. Embracing. And nurturing them.
More film photographs from Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens in Richmond, Virginia. I treated myself to an annual membership to the gardens so I can pop in for an hour or so at various times of the day through the seasons. At first, I worried that this might become boring. Flowers and more flowers.
But then I watched a You Tube video by one of my favorite photography teachers, Willhem Verbeek, Finding New Photography Projects, and I came away with reassurance that I am on the right track. I just needed a little validation that sinking deeply into one place could be worthwhile.
“This is my way of finding new photography projects — forcing me to think of new ways to photograph the same thing over and over again and still make it feel different than the last image.”—Willhem Verbeek
I’m looking forward to seeing how the collection grows.
He waited patiently in the car, heat blasting, for me to take the pictures. When I slipped back inside, face flush from the cold, he asked what I was taking a picture of. Of course, he is used to me and he only smiled when I replied, “Skid marks.”
I have never been in a car that spun around. Well, except for once or twice during ice storms in our area. I was always afraid of bumper cars, too. Worried that I would be that kid stuck in the corner, turning the wheel and going nowhere. I was afraid of those mirror mazes, too. Worried I might never find my way out. And those big slides at the fair. The ones where you lie down on a burlap sack and slide so fast — I couldn’t try. Not jumping off the diving board or zip lining across a forest. Only recently have I begun to understand how growing up in a chaotic home made for a fearful adult unable to trust others to keep her safe. It might seem a pity, but I have compassion for myself. It is not too late.
{purveyors of fine crafted goods — on film}
I’m thinking this morning, about this next season of my life, and what are the provisions I will need for the journey. What things will I need to stock up on? What supplies will I require? How can I prepare? The future is wildly uncertain. I wonder if I can hold my heart open for all the goodness that may come instead of worrying over worst case scenarios.
