On the 14th the family and I went to the Connecticut College Arboretum. It was mom's idea. They have a amateur photography contest every year. She wanted us to enter. (The contests ends the 18th, which I didn't know then, but that's not the point of this.)
I was apprehensive, as I usually am when I do something new. Picture-taking isn't foreign, but doing for art is. Up to that day I'd only taken pictures to capture moments in history and the quality of the picture wasn't important. So long as I didn't chop of the heads of anyone I was good. This was different. I was unnerved.
Well, reader (bit of a Jane Eyre reference there), I loved it. LOVED. I'd thought for a while that I could get into photography if ever I gave myself a chance. It's partially genetic. My dad loves photography, though he doesn't out and say it. He's not that kinda guy.
I'm not sure we'll be able to enter the contest but the above picture is one of the ones I took. There's something incredibly personal in photography. It's like machine-assisted art. The arboretum didn't have nearly as many pretty things there as I thought. But I could have stayed there for awhile longer, snapping this and that.
My mind was racing on the way home. I contemplated opening an Etsy shop for my photography. Not yet, I'm not sure where to go to print my pictures. I don't have a name for the shop. (I'd like it to have the letter 'r' in it, for my name.) But, gosh, I want to go out to take pictures somewhere else again.
I really needed this. I was getting creatively stagnant, only making jewelry. I didn't really have a ton of money to spend on new supplies. (I will make my metal earrings, yet.) I was growing to loathe the process. Allowing myself to try this medium, that could totally develop into a passion, is so exciting. I can barely concentrate.
5.16.2007
Finding me 5.16
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