Here we go again:
I love photography — love to see it well done, love to try to do it well. At age 63 I’m getting reasonably good at it and continuing to learn to do it better. I’ll never be in the same league as really gifted photographers, but I’m happy with the progress I’ve made.
How far back does the shutterbug go? Way, way back to my gawky awkward teens, when I found a battered old black and white camera in the attic. It was all manual, not a bit of auto this or that; there was a flaw in its innards that left streaks on the negatives and thus the images; I had to learn how to use a handheld light meter and dial in all the settings; but I persisted, and had fun.
Some time ago I was digging through a collection of boxes on a dusty shelf and came across a collection of ancient photos. Among them were a handful of small prints from my first photographic forays. I looked through them, and…….
Well, by golly, the images weren’t that bad. Not too shabby, at all. And the same sorts of things that intrigue me today — the interplay of light and shadow, textures, geometric harmonies of the natural world, portraiture of our animal companions — they were all there.
Like this, taken along the edge of the pond across the street from our house:
There was an old apple tree along that bit of shore, and I tried different angles on it:
You can clearly see the negative scratches across the tree trunk in this one:
I really like this one:
Light and dark, geometry, cats — it was all there already, way back when:
Capturing the moment:
Capturing the soul: