Shirt: thrifted * Cardigan: H&M * Cargos: Old Navy * Socks: Target * Boots: Target * Scarf: Target * Belt: Joe's
One thing that I've discovered since starting to blog is my love of photography. I took a couple of photo classes in high school and college, and always appreciated a good photograph. Joe and I always head to the photography gallery in the Art Institute first, to see what's new, and I love looking back at old albums and pictures, taken by me, or family members and friends. But I've been taking my own pictures everyday for almost two years now, and I've learned new techniques and new passions for this form of art. One thing that particularly affects me is the idea of the capture of a moment, and the powerful emotions that come with that. Photographs can communicate intense emotions to their viewers, or subjects, or photographers, by the simple aesthetic of the image. They of course capture real moments in time, and both the photographer and the viewer can look back at the picture and recall the precise tactile and emotional feelings that they were experiencing at the time. But part of what lures me into photography is the ability to create a moment, and call forth a set of emotions, that were perhaps not present at the moment in which the photograph was taken.
This weekend, after a day of working hard at a coffeeshop, eating waffles, and hitting up shoe stores to get Joe a new pair of kicks (to no avail), we were driving through town towards home and the grocery store. It was a simple Saturday afternoon, rather matter-of-fact in its events and our own sentiments toward it. I think we were both a bit tired, having worked all day, and we had both gotten chilled from the sudden return of winter. When we drove by a long winding road that was marked as an entrance to a park, I ventured in, hoping to get a decent backdrop to snap my daily pictures. What we found was a hill, bathed in the last light of the day, looking out over the town and strewn with remnants of winter. There wasn't a soul in sight, and the final rays of the sun that peeked over the trees set the hill awash in this warm, gorgeous light that seemed to set the world ablaze. We busted out the camera and got to work. These pictures, and particularly the set of portraits that Joe framed and directed, are probably some of my favorite ever. They convey the sense of deep calm that I've felt my life has been missing recently. I look at them and see a woman ready for the world, content to be within it, and at peace with the stark winter surroundings she has been placed in. I see a woman waiting on the last days of winter with a smile, looking to spring with calm anticipation. I can feel the frost crunch under her feet, and the intense warmth of those final rays of sunlight, thawing the frozen winter air.
The moment that is conveyed to me through these photographs is one of quiet contemplation. The air is still and calm, and that centered quality radiates into me, the subject and now viewer, as I look at and think about the images. I have looked at these pictures at least a dozen times since this weekend, allowing the calmness that I feel when I see them wash over me. I'm so glad we drove that route to get home, and I'm glad I suddenly decided to stop for pictures, and I'm glad we spent so much time running errands that day so that the light was just perfect at the moment that we needed it.
It seems a bit narcissistic to say all that about a set of pictures about myself. However, I don't know that I would have the same reaction to pictures that I wasn't in. The emotions that I feel right now, that I am assigning to the woman in the photos, are emotions specific to me, and are emotions that I feel I need to be experiencing at this moment. I'm not sure how that would translate to someone else. What are your thoughts about photography as an emotional art form? How do you react to powerful photographs? What are surefire emotional markers for you, when you look at an image?
Title song: Jim Croce, "Photographs and Memories"
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