The more I learn about photography and art, the more convinced I am that I’m mostly a pretender at being both. I am, I think, a writer with enough interest in the workings of humanity to pull off the occasional interesting shot. Still, I look at photo blogs with hundreds of likes and comments or similar stats on Instagram, Flickr, or whatever, and wonder if I’m so different than others that no one will ever get my work.
Our dear blog friend Argus called me an iconoclast, which made me laugh, since that is precisely what I am. I suppose it’s my downfall as well. For instance, I know you’re supposed to carefully frame your subjects as you shoot, and never, ever cut their heads off.
But see, the problem is that I shoot what’s interesting to me, and this interested me more. Besides, I’d have had to look through the camera to frame them differently. I wasn’t looking.
A lazy sod, I guess. But then, that’s no excuse, since I wasn’t looking while I was at London’s Marble Arch either. If I had been, maybe I’d have noticed Creepy Guy in the shots.
I guess one just has to admit one’s failings. I’m never going to be popular because I just don’t care to make my pictures look like others’. Maybe my resolute salmon-ness is something I can’t change. Maybe writing is my calling after all.