My friends response was "I don't want you in Egypt right now."
Well I'm not saying I'm running away from home with my point and shoot. I'm just saying there was a time in my life that I thought maybe that would be my life.
In college I was a communications major with a minor in photography. This is back in the pre-digital dinosaur days where cameras used actual film that had to be developed in a dark room full of noxious chemicals.
We were a strange group there hanging out in the dark room. There was the wanna-be hippy girl who loved photographing nudes, the guys who liked to play with trick photography and of course the artistic photographers who had glamorous dreams.
My love was photojournalism. I don't have an eye for art or lighting or fluid lines. But I knew when to snap to capture a moment in time that spoke a story words couldn't tell.
But like most stories, mine took a different turn. I met my husband, moved with his career, had babies and made a different life. It's not a bad life. Just a different one than I once thought.
The sad part is I don't even have my portfolio anymore. In a moment of postpartum depression I threw it away, convinced I'd never again do anything beyond changing diapers and breast feeding.
The few people I've shared my past love of photography with have asked why I don't just pick up the camera and start shooting again.
I'm not sure. All the usual reasons I guess: time, energy, opportunity.
|Not prize winning.|
But the kind of pictures
my college education bought me.
I can't have regrets when I look
at pictures like these.
I'm past wanting to win a Pulitzer Prize, but I still want to capture those moments in time that tell a story.