Way back in the long ago, I didn’t really give much of a hoot about photography. My father did, hoo-boy, did he ever. He had a very fancy Minolta with loads of lenses and took dozens of pictures at the drop of a hat (although, I don’t think he took any of a hat dropping, but I bet he would have if he had seen one). When I went to the World Scout Jamboree in Australia, in the late 80s, my father got me my first camera, which was fun and all, but I didn’t think much of it.
Fast forward to late December 2003. I was visiting friends in California for a week and we had just visited Yosemite. That night, I was lying in my bed in the hotel, looking at the pictures I had taken on my (now) antique-y digital camera (it burned the pictures onto a 3″ cd because memory cards were still new). I was so blown away by the pictures I couldn’t stop staring at them. Then again, Yosemite is an amazing place, so I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised. That was the first time I considered the possibility of me taking pictures on an artistic level as opposed to taking “vacation-y” pictures. For years I had been searching for a creative outlet (drawing, playing the guitar, writing poetry) without finding the one that truly hooked me. That night, in a Holiday Inn Express in Fresno, California, I knew I found it.
A few months later I bought my first fancy camera (fancy = digital SLR = camera with a detachable lens) and ever since, my trusty Canon has always been by my side. What I lack in technical knowledge about F-stops and aperture, I more than make up for with a damn good eye as to what makes an interesting picture.
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