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Dearest followers, I need your advice.

errer:

Bear with me through this, and if readers could please treat this post with respect, it’s very personal.

 

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Long-disance love is very possible. I believe this to my very core. my parents met at a summer program when my mother was 16. the next 4 years of their relationship were long-distance, seeing each other one or two weekends a month during he school year and spending summers together, and they have been together ever since. it’s part of why i myself am so idealistic when it comes to love. I’ve seen how it can be pretty damn close to perfect, so i look for it/expect it for myself as well. 

that being said, long-distance was difficult, and they were only a few hours apart. still, it gives me faith that real love could stand, however likely with more difficulty, a larger distance. 

but as i said before, i tend to be quite idealistic about love.


(via errer)

"However, what about the emotional connection that we have with our subject matter? Can that have anything to do with our disappointment? My answer is yes.Think about it. When are the times that we experience the biggest disappointment? It’s when we have the highest expectations and emotional investment or response from a situation. If something doesn’t happen exactly the way we want it to, we often find ourselves let down by how the situation actually transpired. That’s human nature, and since creative photography is so closely tuned to our inner selves, it’s only natural to think that the same thing can happen to our image making. We tend to seek out and photograph those subjects that evoke a strong emotional response within ourselves, and the images that we make of those subjects usually end up being our best photographs. However, as is often the case with beginning photographers, they can also be our worst, most uninspired images. Why? because we’re unable to separate our emotional attachment to a subject from the craft of how to make a good photograph, or we fail to produce an image that speaks to that emotional attachment. It’s also because we sometimes forget that a strong photograph is not simply an exact copy of the subject, it’s a symbolic representation of the subject matter that’s designed to invoke an emotional response from us and our viewers. A good photograph isn’t just a picture of “the thing” or “the place,” it tells a story and transports us to a different time and place. It causes us to think “why,” “how,” “where” and “what if?"

It’s an infrequent occasion that I write something of my own here. Here it is.

“Human intimacy may be among the most difficult things to capture photographically.”

I began reading an article by Darsie Alexander, “Nan Goldin: The Hug, New York City, 1980,” for my Photo class and this line, the opening, struck me at once.  Then I reached the bottom of that same paragraph:

“For better or worse, a camera locks even the most temporary relationships into permanence, capturing their momentary intensity with a decisive and intrusive click.”

Through the duration of my time reading—the rest of this article as well as through the Sontag article I also had to read—I couldn’t get that notion out of my mind.  In the past 5 or so years, I have consistently photographed my relationships.  Long-term or fleeting, close or distant, or some confusing mix of all four, I strive to document the important moments. 

I like to think that these images serve as memento of something I, or someone in my life, once felt.  However, I wonder if I am the only one who can.  I wonder if, perhaps, it is the associations I have placed on an image after-the-fact that hold the emotion or intimacy of the moment, rather than the photograph itself.

When it comes to relationships of all kinds, I tend to be idealistic. This often leads incredible stubbornness on my part.  Relationships are fluid.  They wax and wane and shift constantly, but the emotions contained in a photograph, for me, are static.  Often I have chosen to capture a moment for the sole reason that, subconsciously or not, I want it to last.  When they don’t in real life, they do in the photograph.

But the second quote raises an interesting, yet somewhat disturbing question.  The click of the shutter is described as “intrusive.”  Something that interrupts, disturbs unwantedly, interferes.  Were I to not seek out documentation of the moment, a static “artificial” preservation, would the real-life emotion or intimacy, in fact, last longer in real life?

Though I’m not sure that the simple click of a shutter could really alter the unfolding of events in that way, I certainly believe it’s true that the act of observing a phenomenon changes it.  Looking through the lens of my camera, in that instant I am no longer an active participant in the emotion.  I am an observer. The relationship has changed. In an honest attempt to hold the moment together, I have pulled away from that same moment.  And the moment has passed.  It’s a thought that I’ve been struggling with for a while.