What it Feels Like Vs. What is Looks Like : A Photographer’s Journey
I write this at 3 am after being woken up by a toddler crawling into our bed looking for some comfort. After trying to take a picture of his foot draped over my shoulder. I thought to myself; I am trying to capture how this feels. So one day, when he is too cool for his mom, I will remember that I was his quiet space to land once.
I have been thinking a lot about how Photography is the gift of preserving sight at a moment, but the real heart is when you can feel the image. It isn't always about documenting the perfection of this life we live. Because life isn't perfect, it is messy, and where there is light, there is often dark.
It is more often about chasing a feeling—a feeling of something like nostalgia. The moment you recognize you are photographing something pure and its reflection back in your photo. Forever frozen for you to come back to. The space where it can continue to tug at your heartstrings and remind you of the fragility of this life.
When we look back at this time, what are we going to miss most? Is it the way we cheese for the camera? Or the blur they created as they ran past the camera to jump off the couch. Or the way we danced in the kitchen while we did the dishes?
It isn't about how well-behaved or perfect a child is during our time together. It is about how true to themselves they are being. They may have a myriad of emotions about being photographed, but at some time, it will come to an end, and a moment of vulnerability will peak through. Even if for a moment
So much of Photography can be a performance. But the longer we spend together, the more your walls come down, and the more I can show you the beauty in the cracks and crevices of this life you are building. And it isn't just about photographing your dance moves during your kitchen dancing but that sliver of joy.
Talk soon,
Kate
“The punctum of a photograph is that accident which pricks me (but also bruises me, is poignant to me).”