simply his face

 

When I run across an image from a photo session that stands out a bit from the others, I often question myself as to why this is, because typically it is so simplistic. With every shoot I take on, I have the desire to create a dramatic portrait that will somehow convey the beauty and complexities of both my subject and all that pulses within me when I look at the world………what I know to be possible. But as I view the assortment of resulting images I’m always left with the feeling that more could have been said. There is an awareness that I left something out that needed to be included, or included something distracting that should have been eliminated. It is this constant dissatisfaction with my work that can discourage me at times, but then ultimately compel me to continue forward. When it comes right down to it, I like the knowing that there is more digging to be done……more yet unknown treasures to be uncovered.

Sometimes I think I appreciate an image I’ve made simply because of how difficult it was to obtain, or the fleeting nature of the emotion presented. So it was with the little boy pictured above. A typical high energy two year old, I chased him around endlessly hoping he might eventually tire and slow down. He never did. He’d stop at a location for a moment and within seconds be on to something else. It was all such a blur that I honestly don’t remember how we arrived at the moment of this image. But I clearly recall looking through my viewfinder and feeling connected to everything as I looked at his face and pressed the shutter release. I turned my camera to take another shot in portrait orientation, saw his mouth gently moving toward another look, and that was it. I didn’t get another shot of him with even a remotely similar expression, although there were a variety of cute ones to offer his parents.

Perhaps I will never create that dramatic portrait that I believe is still straining to be born. Maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe there is no pinnacle to reach where upon arriving a party is thrown in my honor, and I may pat myself on the back and say, “there, I’ve done it”. And would I really want that?

So it seems I am designing and building my own mountainous landscape, aspiring bit by bit toward higher elevations with each quiet little portrait that I create.

 
~Cynthia