I love nature (especially macro) and landscape photography, and I am trying to improve my skills. I went to the beach recently, and these are a few of the photos I snapped:



I carry a digital point-and-shoot camera with me everywhere, because I prefer to look and find photographs, rather than look to find photos. My point is best summed up in a song about paleontology:
“There’s two kinds of hunting for fossils. You can hunt for fossils and you can find fossils. Finding fossils is a lot more fun than hunting for fossils, it’s like fishing and catching fish.”
Ray Troll, Russell Wodehouse, and the Ratfish Wranglers, Cruisin’ The Fossil Freeway,
“I Am A Paleobotanist”.
To further explain, planning a trip and bringing a bunch of camera gear specifically to take pictures somewhere, capturing a scene be the primary goal, is not really my style. I admire people who do, and much of my favorite landscape pics were captured thus (Ansel Adams, anyone?). However, for my own personal enjoyment of the art, I prefer opportunistic photography; being out and about, having other directives, and then seeing a moment which I feel compelled to capture. My goal with photography is twofold: To retain the visual splendor that decorates my life, portraying these sights as accurately as possible to how I saw them in their moments; And to increase my awareness of the beauty that surrounds me, therefore increasing my enjoyment of life, and my desire to take pictures. In short, my kind of photography is a positive feedback loop. As a stellar example, this was taken on my way home from a doctor’s appointment, while I waited for a bus:

The sunset was gorgeous, the glow of the familiar restaurant sign was suddenly striking, and the whole scene powerfully reminded me of why I left home and ran off to California those years ago. And I didn’t even go looking for it — a lot of the power of that moment laid in the way it revealed itself to me. That is the reason I carry a camera with me everywhere, to capture those sights I don’t try to see, but which I am ever so glad that I do.
But why not just use my phone? Like most people these days, I carry a smartphone with me everywhere too. That thing can take pictures, pretty damn good ones, too. So why do I allocate the valuable space in my purse for a camera I don’t use every day? To me, having a separate, dedicated item for photography — one that uses an actual SD card instead of connecting to the cloud (what is this, 1990?) which I have to plug into my computer at home if I want to use the pictures — makes them feel more special. My camera has an automatic feature, but I choose to keep it on manual control for the same reason. Taking the time and attention to adjust the settings for the best shot makes it feel so much more worthwhile to me (I admit though, I leave the white balance on auto). Plus, the rush of trying to get everything right in a fleeting moment gives me a bigger dopamine reward when I get the shot. Sometimes, that time spent on adjustments reveals a better subject;

The picture of the bee wouldn’t have been as good if I could have taken it quicker.Said bee was originally hovering around a plain dull-green bush before it flitted over to that lovely orange aloe arborescens (I find the shape and hue of the blossoms quite complementary toward the bee). The principle I cite for this has proven universal in my life:
Thought = enjoyment.
The more thought I put into something, the more pleasure I get out of it. If I watch a movie and don’t have anything to say about it, then why did I watch it?! If whenever something interesting catches my eye, I take a slew of photos with a few finger-taps on my phone screen, will any of them have the same impact as one taken more thoughtfully? In my experience, they don’t. So my phone’s lens is relegated to functional, sterile, almost businesslike purposes, when I need to take pictures of receipts, or need to send an image promptly. It is not for art. Not for the soulful, important things. I carry a camera for that, and by doing so, my camera becomes a symbol of love and care, memory and beauty.
Do what you love, be bold, embrace what makes you unique. Savor life’s sweet moments like a ripe strawberry.
Ciao,
Grace

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