Every time, around Easter, I feel the urge and need to remind photographers, myself included, that, individually and collectively, as a force for good, we are alive.
I’m not talking about some pseudo religiosity of mythological and legendary doctrines, dogma, and decrees-those crusty, dusty, musty manuscripts of history past.
I’m talking about us-living, breathing, forever changing human beings and photographers.
We live. We die. Life is the captures we make in between, of the moments and memories, through the routines, rituals, and rhythms of everyday life.
I’m talking about being fully alive, inside yourself, connected to yourself, and your craft, in ways that few photographers dare to venture into.
We are alive.
We see. We feel. We hear. We touch. We understand. We point. We shoot.
We are resurrected beings of history and intimacy and identity.
Through our lenses, we are connected to a world that most never see, appreciate, honor or celebrate.
We are alive.
Inside our private world of exposure, focus, and white balance, there lives a growing, sprouting, morphing, flourishing creative self.
Feed her. Love her. Spend time with her. Touch her. She, too, is alive.
Perhaps, through our humble vantage points, we must constantly find our way out of the darkness and into this light.
We must be photographic beacons of luminescence
We must be photographic ambassadors of light-writing.
We must be photographic poets, artists, minstrels, and gypsies with our cameras.
We must celebrate the beautiful, the lyrical, and the emotional….in the cracks, creases, and crevices, of every step we take and every breath we make.
We are alive. And, for today, that is enough, more than enough
Click
Jack
