I sit here, scrolling through a seemingly endless back catalog of photos that I’ve collected over the years. Thinking. Trying to figure out why?
Photos from closing on 2 decades of serious photography, when it became more than just the occasional snapshots of family and friends. Everything from landscapes of all four seasons to portraits, started and unfinished documentary projects to cinematic sketches attempting to tell some larger story.
And they all just sit there. Some have been shared online, some used in my annual calendar for family, even fewer still have been printed.
But the question remains, why?
Why do I find myself collecting all of these images. What are they for? I know I can’t stop making photos, it’s in my blood now. But, if I kick the bucket tomorrow, will they be anything more than a nuisance for family to figure out what to do with them, before grabbing the family photos that mean something to them personally and then throwing the rest in the trash?
I don’t know. I guess that’s not for me to answer. After all… should that happen, I’ll be gone and will no doubt not be thinking about anything anymore, let alone what happens to my photos.
I’m looking back still, noticing the changes in my work.
Was the older work better?
No, not better I think. Just different.
Changing tastes in composition, preferred focal lengths, post processing style and flavor… but there is ONE constant. I come back to nature always. Landscapes, intimate details, amazing light or terrible light, various weather conditions, it really doesn’t seem to matter.
Even when I feel pulled to shoot other subjects, I mean PULLED in a way that it’s all I can think about wanting to photograph, even then I’m STILL pulled back to nature… and it won’t be long until I find myself pointing my camera at the trees, the wilderness, the comfort of being in the woods.
I wonder why?
What is it that pulls me back? And why do I fight it?