Everything was going fine - cuppa tea made, bike race from Europe watched, cat fed, emails being answered, even worked on the taxes (even though it's April that's way early for me - I'm chronically late to the IRS... but then again they are chronically late with providing all the education and social services I think my money should support), and then I bumped into a trio of stories that I felt compelled to post to my facebook page - after the third posting it hit me: today I miss being a photographer.
Each of the three photo stories had a common theme - they were stories being told through photographs. Different yet the same. Posted here for those not on facebook (I completely understand.) Each about the "need" tearing at my soul today.
First was -
Photography in the Docket, as Evidence
By James EstrinThen came -
How A Female Photographer Sees Her Afghanistan
by Farzana Wahidy
Finally,
Photographs: The Battle We Didn't Choose | My Wife's Fight With Breast Cancer
By Angelo Merendino
It wasn't like this when I was younger. I shot a lot, but the need was different. Now it's bloodstream stuff. It's a need flowing through me, begging me to not be satisfied not being me. It's the me trying to take control of the eyes and tell a story. After all these years, it still bewilders me that I can't identify this mood in the beginning - it's the one that starts as a hint, slips into attention disorder about all other things, then gnaws at my bones as if I am being consumed from within. Some days I need to tell a story. Some days I need to be a photographer.
