I love to be so, however. I enjoy solving problems, and it is even more enjoyable if the solved problem belongs to a stranger. If you ask me a question, the thought is, "I'm glad you picked me, random stranger." If I don't have the answer you need, the thought is, "I wish I could help this lost, random stranger," while you are probably growing impatient, wishing you had asked the girl with I am a Native New Yorker tattooed across her cheek. Yes, that tattoo is in a disturbing place, but she would definitely be sure if the 2 train stopped at West 14th Street. Me?
I'm new.
But, I like to help.
So bare with me while I roll my eyes up to search my brain that I already know does not (but I sure do wish it did) contain the info you really need right now as the 2 train rolls into the station. After I've tried my best, I roll my eyes back to you with a grimace and sigh, "Shoot. I'm not sure, sorry." I am really sorry, because, of course, you look a little panicked, worried, flustered. You look a little pissed too, actually. Now, because the tattooed New Yorker has already barged on to the train with every other helpful person, you turn to the gigantic subway map in the middle of the platform...which you most likely do not know how to read. As I make my way onto the 2 train, I re-work how things could've played out, in my head. The thought is, "Just send them to the map." This isn't Philly with its 2 subway lines, or its neighborhoods distinguished by direction (N. Philly, S. Philly, W. Philly, NE Philly, SW Philly, you get it??). "Give yourself time to get acclimated." I like to help. But, right there, to that random stranger, I was a random jerk. I have good intentions, but they were quite self-indulgent. She probably missed the right train. I honestly don't know. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know...I'll try to say that more often. I promise you, you random future lost strangers in New York. I now admit that I am among the least helpful.
I'm new, I'm lost too, and I live in New York.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Chosen Ones
This one's about memory.
Today, being a memorable day, Obama's Inauguration Day, I figured it to be an excellent reason to post an update. Much has happened today, and this Inauguration would be a dream come true for any photographer. I watched and taped the Inauguration ceremony at home. I watched the scene on the Mall, tried my best to ignore the empty commentary from Katie Couric, wondered if Michelle Obama's coat was thick enough, and...whenever he was in the frame...gawked at The Photographer. There seemed to be one guy, shooting everything...with one camera. My thought was, "He only has one lens? Is he a Congressman with a really nice Nikon? Did I meet him at a lecture?" Honestly, I would only want to photograph what that one guy, The Photographer, could see. Had I gone to D.C., I would have indeed brought my own Nikon to document my experience, but it would have only been to document the experience.
Photography is a gift, and then there are those special sub-gifts within. Photojournalism is one gift I find fascinating, in that the best photographs are taken to basically document a moment. The idea can be that simple, but the best photographs also revere that moment. In the unbiased realm of journalism, they can translate the importance, and emotion of history. For me, those are the best ones. Without this sense, documenting for the sake of memory sometimes seems wasteful and frustrating. The camera is no longer a tool for communication, but a storage unit. And with this sense, how compelling could those photographs be?
I'm not positive that if I were to have the perspective of The Photographer, that my photographs of Obama would be more significant than my photographs of the millions of supporters who risked hypothermia to see him sworn in. People were having a lot of fun out there, despite the deep freeze, and that would have been nice to remember. I do know that as a photographer, I can ruin a memory by being frustrated at not being able to capture a moment perfectly. It becomes a chase, and before you know it, the moment is over and you're in a corner shuffling through your playback to try and see if you got anything that was...well, maybe that's just me and my Type A issues. Let me leave it there.
I'll just say it simply.
Today was an excellent day, and I have it on film.
Today, being a memorable day, Obama's Inauguration Day, I figured it to be an excellent reason to post an update. Much has happened today, and this Inauguration would be a dream come true for any photographer. I watched and taped the Inauguration ceremony at home. I watched the scene on the Mall, tried my best to ignore the empty commentary from Katie Couric, wondered if Michelle Obama's coat was thick enough, and...whenever he was in the frame...gawked at The Photographer. There seemed to be one guy, shooting everything...with one camera. My thought was, "He only has one lens? Is he a Congressman with a really nice Nikon? Did I meet him at a lecture?" Honestly, I would only want to photograph what that one guy, The Photographer, could see. Had I gone to D.C., I would have indeed brought my own Nikon to document my experience, but it would have only been to document the experience.
Photography is a gift, and then there are those special sub-gifts within. Photojournalism is one gift I find fascinating, in that the best photographs are taken to basically document a moment. The idea can be that simple, but the best photographs also revere that moment. In the unbiased realm of journalism, they can translate the importance, and emotion of history. For me, those are the best ones. Without this sense, documenting for the sake of memory sometimes seems wasteful and frustrating. The camera is no longer a tool for communication, but a storage unit. And with this sense, how compelling could those photographs be?
I'm not positive that if I were to have the perspective of The Photographer, that my photographs of Obama would be more significant than my photographs of the millions of supporters who risked hypothermia to see him sworn in. People were having a lot of fun out there, despite the deep freeze, and that would have been nice to remember. I do know that as a photographer, I can ruin a memory by being frustrated at not being able to capture a moment perfectly. It becomes a chase, and before you know it, the moment is over and you're in a corner shuffling through your playback to try and see if you got anything that was...well, maybe that's just me and my Type A issues. Let me leave it there.
I'll just say it simply.
Today was an excellent day, and I have it on film.
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