So many of us love to take photos. We carry our cameras wherever we go... we lug our backpacks full of lenses and tripods on vacations, business trips, or even simple neighborhood walks. Why do we do it? What is it about photography that causes otherwise normal human beings, to carry an extra 30lbs, spend many thousands of dollars on equipment, and wander off during family time to scale that cliff, building, or other perfect vantage point to capture that shot?
If we don't do it as a profession that pays the rent, then why? Being educated as an engineer, worked in business, and serving on the boards of non-profits organizations, I've felt compelled to balance my life by dabbling in the arts. I've tried my hand at writing, to which I give myself a B. My paintings, to all but my sweet husband, were not something I'd allow anyone to hang on their walls. Perhaps because my perfectionist tendencies amplify my self criticism to a debilitating level. Perhaps because my parents were accomplished writers, dancers, artists, sculptors and actors with whom I felt I could never compete.
Although my writing dabbles never culminated in a piece that I'd allow anyone to read and my paintings are safely stacked in the back of my office closet, when I have a camera in front of my face, all creative insecurities dissipate. Only then do I feel truly alive, safe, creative, and satisfied. So when I was invited to show my photos at a benefit event for an NGO with whom I traveled to Africa to photograph their projects for their website and other marketing collateral, I jumped on it. I allowed friends, family, and even strangers to see my work, critique it, and even purchase it.
I was able to free myself of long held insecurities, even though not all of the images where perfect by my perfectionist standards (which are ever evolving to more critical heights). Contemplating this creative breakthrough, I realized that letting go of perfection to make way for a human story, a journalistic photo essay of the work done in East Africa by Village Enterprise, was something that was bigger than me and my insecurity.
Suddenly my insecurity carried little weight. My hope is that other amateur photographers who have hard drives full of photos that no one ever sees after the first post-vacation slide show, will turn their cameras to a story that needs to be told.
It would be great to gather a list of opportunities for those of us who want to utilize our talents and equipment for something more than a photo that hangs modestly in our back hallway. Send them and I'll consolidate and post them.