You know, I don’t ignore your Wordless Wednesdays, or Skywatches, or Weekly Winners. I just don’t have much to say, besides the usual gorgeous, I like that one or the composition is really sick.
Plus, I would never use the word sick, to mean something good.
I took a couple of photo classes in high school. It intrigued me – mostly the development part of the process: the adding of chemicals and washing and magnifying and examining of contact sheets – but for the most part, my interest was minimal. I got the assignments done, I got a good grade, they let me play with an SLR and flammables and it was an easy class. Win Win.
But all of you, with your skills and interest and dedication to furthering what you already have built into your eyes: you leave me speechless. Because I don’t have that in me, or the patience and want to find it.
Part of me thinks that if I didn’t have a cheap point and shoot, and had the ability to take one damned photos without macro, flash, red-eye reduction and image steadying (which still isn’t compensating for my shaky hands and often-moving child) turned on, then I would be far more into photography.
Hell, I might want to be a photographer.
As it stands, I’m not nearing anything close to good and so I’m not into it. Lazy perfectionist=me.
But I’m still attempting a weekly photo project during this year. Quite frankly, I love the idea of having 52 photos of Zoë and having them made into a huge, fancy, over-priced book. Getting to flip through those pages and see proof on page of how much she’s changed between three and a half and four and half.
If you’re here after reading the eGuide in the Sunday Tasmanian, heya. And just to let you know, Zoë is totally three, not two. And I’m 29. So I probably have to update my about page or something. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, but you want to, go see Veronica’s post.
