Even though most of my photography is digital, I love prints to hold and pictures on a wall. Pictures speak eloquently and truthfully about the littleness and bigness of our lives. And when I pass a picture to the hand of a friend or family member, I pass the stories and the memories, too. There is a defining texture behind photographs that becomes lost when only viewed on a screen.

Since I take pictures every day, there are many that don’t make it to this place, my online journal. And I want them to have a home beyond an external hard drive or the cloud. I want prints to hold.

By way of Artifact Uprising, I print a book of my favorite photographs for each quarter of the year. I love arranging the pictures according to color or theme or chronology or simply what makes me happy and looks good to me. I typically use the softcover, 8.5 x 11 inch format and once I begin the project, I login to Artifact Uprising each day and build my book as I go. In this way, I’m not faced with hundreds of pictures to sort and arrange all at once. I choose not to add any words to my pages, preferring to let the images speak for themselves. But I have considered adding a few simple captions in my own handwriting.

Making these books of my photographs, a kind of old-school portfolio, is a gift to myself. When I want to look back to see the evolution of my work, the pages flip past like a movie showing me where I have been. And when I want to recall the best times of my life and the people I love, I can see them in my story. And when I doubt that what I do matters or wonder if my photographs are good, I go to these pages and see that my life is my art.

. . . the great images of our life are those that make us feel something. They aren’t necessarily the portrait of perfection or a life that is manicured. But what they do have is the ability to make us notice and bring us back – back to the places and faces and everyday experiences that shape us
— Artifact Uprising
Day 143

Day 143