Why Do I Take Photographs?

The other day I was asked by another photographer, “why do you take photographs?”

Good question. Why on earth do I pursue the photographic image? Really, why do I continue to take photos? Because in a world that is bombarded daily by too much imagery, photography surely doesn’t need me - but I need it.

Especially now.

Why? Because the act of making a photograph slows me down. Because photography requires no less than my full presence, and it demands that I connect deeply - to people, to nature, to place. Photography allows me to enter other worlds and helps me to hold on to specific moments - the fleeting smile of a shy child, a subtle change in the wind, the gradual unfurling of a spring leaf, or warm light skipping and sliding off a stream. With a camera I can capture moments that will never ever come again, not in a million lifetimes across a billion galaxies. Ultimately, these unique moments are strung together and become a part of larger narratives that are then woven together to create the stories which give my life meaning and purpose.

To make a good photograph I am compelled to quiet the fools-chorus chattering away in my brain and to really see. Not look. See. Not go in search of what I hoped to find when I put my camera gear in the bag a full hour and a half ago. Too often we go out in search of a preconceived image, something we hope to find - and then we miss out on what is actually right there in front of us! Successful photography demands that I see what is actually happening in real time and challenges me to remain awake and fully immersed in my surroundings. I crave that feeling of being completely lost in the moment, transported out of myself - and photography is a great way to get there. No drugs and no running long distances required. Just a quiet mind, a soft eye, good light and a camera. The camera is the easy part.

Hey, perhaps someday a photograph will become a gift to someone in a future I won’t live to see? My great-grandchild might see a photo of their now withered grandmother as a tow-headed young girl with her first puppy and be astounded to learn that grandma really was once a child. That photo might be a bridge linking the child that I cherished as my daughter, to a future child I will never know who loves their grandma dearly. Maybe my own son at sixty will come across a faded photo of a river in an old growth forest that is full of wild salmon and he’ll work to restore that river and protect that forest that his mom loved. You know the river I am talking about. That one. The one in the photo. Maybe I take photos as a way to have a conversation with the future about the past?

Then again, who knows anything about the future or what our images might mean to anyone else? Even if every single image I ever make becomes yard sale fodder -or languishes in a long forgotten hard drive - it still has immense value to me right now, because I know what photography gives to me. Photography is a gift that allows me to bear witness, to feel alive, to be curious, to learn, to connect deeply and see more clearly. Taking a photograph allows me to say - this happened. This unlikely and unique moment happened and I did not miss it! I was here; eyes, mind, and heart fully present.

Why do I love photography? It is the clearest way I know to say, “I saw you”. Some say feeling seen is the bigger part of feeling loved.

I take photographs to capture that moment that I really saw you.
You of the slight smile, you ancient tree, you hovering bird, you color blue.
I saw you all.

So I pressed the shutter, and it mattered.

To me, it really mattered.