My photo archives are like a journal of my life. I can spot the periods of busyness, stress, or deadlines by the gaps there. I can also spot the winter months that way. Around November my picture-taking mojo tends to curl up for a nap. I love snapping photos in the spring or fall when the light splashes and dapples across flower petals, leaves, and faces in surprising ways. But the months of gray skies and bare branches don’t seem quite worth recording.
Last week as we were leaving for an ordinary walk around the neighborhood, on a whim, I raced back inside to grab the camera. As I strolled along with my camera, I discovered all kinds of beauty hiding in the muted landscape.
It was a good reminder. As much as I love taking photos, I’ve feared that sometimes the camera yanks my family right out of the moment, that it can transform a hike or a vacation into a pressure-packed challenge to record our lives. Sometimes we’re so busy capturing the waves or the fun that we don’t quite experience them, you know? I’ve also taken some interest in the national conversation about whether our collective obsession with photo-taking might be unhealthy for our kids.
I’m reminded that while the digital camera, like most technology, will probably have some ill effects, it’s an incredible gift. Not only can we forever revisit the impossible cuteness of our kids’ toothless grins. Our cameras help us pay attention to the beauty in ordinary things. Mine will be a more frequent winter walk companion.
Nice contrast between the (almost) bare tree and then the green grass near the sidewalks.
I was an avid photographer before digital came along – now, I watch those around me share umpteen thousand photos of their vacation and I say, “Oh, that’s beautiful – where was that taken at?” and they can’t tell me. I’m so glad others take pictures so I can view the beauty without traveling, but for myself, I do best recording the moment in my own memory banks – congratulations to you, finding the happy medium between the two!
Thank you for reminding me that grabbing my little camera could motivate me to get outside and take more winter walks (I tend to hibernate from outdoor exercise now). I got the camera from a friend so that I could take photos in my garden as a kind of meditation time, but I didn’t realize it could be my walking mojo—as a kind of art-exercise project. Again, as always, thanks for your thoughtful posts: I love your brain.
Ah, I wish the impulse to snap pictures would hit me more often. I forget! Then one of my kids will want a photo of something specific, “you know, the fort we built out of branches,” and all I can find are dozens of pictures of kids holding chickens or feeding cows or the dogs yawning.
The reasons for photography have become more startlingly apparent to me lately. A friend is fighting for his life right now. There are precious few photos of him, largely because he was always the one taking pictures. The pictures I have were mostly taken by me. I’m not in them. My husband hates having his picture taken, so he’s not in them either. Only now am I realizing that some day our kids will rustle through boxes of photos we’ve printed out looking for us, finding only themselves and lots of animals and lots of scenery. So my vow is to take more pictures and get in front of the lens more often.
I know! I’m so often taking the pictures. It’s hard to get in front of the camera. Have you read Allison Tate’s wonderful essay “The Mom Stays in the Picture.” http://www.huffingtonpost.com/allison-tate/mom-pictures-with-kids_b_1926073.html ? She makes much the same point as you. Sadly I’m also challenged by actually, you know, printing the photos. Must do better.
Wonderful photos !
Dick Stacy
Ms. Quillen …FYI
You undoubtedly get Ms. Weldon’s posts, but I immediately thought of you and your children as I read (red) this one, especially in view of your latest post.
Dick Stacy