My job is to create photographs. And I absolutely love it. But I often try to separate my job from my family by leaving my camera in my backpack and letting life happen without documenting it. Sometimes I let that go on too long. When I realized that for the past several weeks the only tool I had used to photograph my son was my phone, I was disheartened. It’s my job to document my clients’ lives. Their expressions. Their moments. Their once-in-a-lifetime days. I should focus on doing the same for my beloved family as well. Not every day, of course. But some days. The big days, obviously: holidays, birthdays, events. But what about the insignificant days–if there is such a thing as an insignificant day? What about a random Tuesday in November? A day much like most other weekdays. It seemed like a perfect day to keep a camera by my side. To take it with me to the library, the grocery store, and even in the shower. All to document the awesomeness of the everyday.
Now, I understand that the habits and routines of a two-year-old are probably not worthy of a photography project. This is nothing deep or earth-shattering. This is nothing new or noteworthy. But I have been spending so much time creating photographs for others that it was time to take some for myself. From the trivial to the… well… still trivial, but somewhat more interesting, I wanted to make sure that I always have proof of these moments that Nathan and I share almost daily, because days like this won’t last much longer. And I’m terrified of that fact.
As the day progressed, I realized that though this project was intended to be solely about Nathan, it’s also about me. This is what I see. This is what I experience. The day is just as much mine as it is his, even though I appear in only one of the images I took. The whole day was a great reminder that although photographers primarily document moments, we live them as well. We share a unique bond with our subjects as equal creators of an image. And the observer adds the dimension of eternity to the image and, therefore, to the moment. And these are the reasons why I love my job. And my life. And every seemingly insignificant moment captured along the way.
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