If you don't stop to look, you'll never see it
For me, one of the most intriguing aspects of photography has been the surprise I feel when reviewing pictures I've taken, often finding that the item of interest, the subject, ends up being secondary to some unintentional element within the composition. For many years, I had thoroughly enjoyed working the flower beds at my home and was unable to resist taking copious pictures throughout the growing season. Generally, the pictures were accurate records of what I grew. However, it took a ladybug on the skeleton of a chewed-up kale leaf to show me that there was a lot of going on in the world that simply wasn't evident from a distance of 5 feet.
To truly observe that ladybug, I had to lie down on the ground, enabling me to see 'eye to eye'. As a reward for discovering this new vantage point, I earned the title of 'The Wallower'.
I have my camera to thank for teaching me just how few details I actually observe in everyday life. For instance, many times, I have transferred pictures from my camera to the computer, anticipating and hoping for something remarkable. Yet often I found amazing was the number of tiny details that had totally escaped my notice. For instance, I am only just now learning to notice sunlight reflecting off the tiniest of spider webs before taking the picture. The world of light and color has drawn me steadily down a path of discovery and renewal. I've realized that my focus has changed drastically so that instead of simply recording how things look, I take joy in capturing a wash of color and light.
Over time, this has resulted in my work becoming more abstract, and hopefully, something the viewer will feel, even if they find themselves questioning what they might be viewing. Photography has been a wonderful journey throughout the past years, one that I hope will continue to stretch out ahead of me, a long and winding path.