"There is only you and your camera.
The limitations in your photography are in yourself,
for what we see is what we are."
-- Ernst Haas
 |
| Camera collage 2-2-14 |
"If I didn't have my camera to remind me constantly, I am here to do this,
I would eventually have slipped away, I think.
I would have forgotten my reason to exist."
-- Annie Leibovitz
"When I have a camera in my hand, I know no fear."
-- Alfred Eisenstaedt
You know the old "what would you grab first if your house caught on fire" game?
For me, as long as I knew my family was safely at the curb, it would be my camera.
It's not a fancy camera. It's not an expensive camera. It's just a regular-people camera. Nothing super impressive. Most people would probably say it's a camera not worth saving and let the damn thing burn for fuck's sake. Shit, you can buy another one at Best Buy after the flames die down and use the insurance money to buy a really good one this time.
Most people wouldn't understand. Besides, I'm not most people.
My camera is not my source of income. Photography is not my job. (If I had to live on the money I've made from the few photographs I've sold I'd be dead by now.) Neither is my camera a mere hobby, although I consider myself an amateur photographer (cuz don't you have to sell shit for money in this world to be considered 'professional' anything?)
Enough about what my camera isn't.
Here's what it is:
My camera is a witness.
My camera is a counselor.
My camera is a companion.
My camera never lies to me, even when the truth hurts.
My camera has seen me at my worst, and at my best.
My camera has seen things I wouldn't even let my family see.
When I felt like I was disappearing, my camera gave me visual proof that I was indeed still here.
My camera has tolerated all kinds of "abuse" -- like a faithful family dog that patiently lets the 4-year-old paint its toenails and dress it in silly costumes -- silently, and without complaint.
I have learned things about myself that I might have never known unless my camera showed them to me.
My camera is a guide that has shown me the way in, and more often, the way out.
My camera has literally rescued me more times than I can count. So the least I could do if the house caught fire, would be to rescue it.
Even though I know it's not literally possible, I feel like every image my camera has seen is somehow still knocking around somewhere behind its camera lens, inside its camera body, inside its camera soul.
I know all of this may sound ridiculously maudlin and overstated and exaggerated, but it's not. It just how I feel.
My camera has taken thousands of photographs of me. So for today, I created a collage picture of my camera. And then I photographed it for you with, guess what?
My camera.
