I've taken enough photos now over the last year and some change (and put them in front of the faces of anyone who would look) that people have started to ask questions. Understandable ones. "How do you choose what to photograph", "What are you trying to express", "What inspires you".
It has had me reflecting, because these aren't really questions I had asked myself.
I didn't get into photography for any particularly strong reason. I wanted a way to express myself. A reason to get out of the house. Something less impenetrably difficult than drawing had always been but less vulnerable and slow to payoff than writing. Photography was a way to hopefully be more present in the world while working within the constraints of how little I could hold my attention on a task.
So the temptation when I'm asked about my photos is to say something glib like, "I just take pictures of what catches my eye without thinking about it much". Saying that wouldn't be untrue. Or maybe I could just write it off as shallow aesthetics. But I'd also be blind if I looked back on my body of photos over the last year and didn't see a clear point of view and voice in them. Even in the midst of learning, trying new things, and not ever feeling like I really know what I'm doing some themes have emerged.
Quiet, distance, and isolation
I never know how much of my looking at my photos benefits from having been in my head as I took them. Quiet and isolation are hard for me not to feel looking at them. It's what I'm drawn to. I've tried taking photos at conventions, busy tourist traps, or of things like beautiful cars and I just can't bring myself to care. There's too much to parse, the ground feels too well trodden. I want to settle into a quiet area on the path of life and just take my time to breathe it in and find what speaks to me.
And that has reflected in the tools I've chosen. Not just the Fujifilm XT5 because I wanted to spend all my photography time out with my camera and not in the edit, but in particular my lenses I gravitate towards.
The first lens I ever had was the classic, 35mm, and honestly I wanted out of it as soon as possible. I never felt truly comfortable framing 35mm and it never sat right with me. I knew I wanted low light performance and to be able to be more distant from subjects, so I replaced it with a 50mm f1.4 and I've never looked back. And I've continue to fill out my arsenal with mostly even further lenses like an 85mm and a telephoto zoom. Things that let me get out of the action and be a detached observer.
It has been striking for me to look back on how, in some ways, contrary to those focal lengths many of my photos feel. I'm using 40mm or greater lenses (usually greater) and yet most of my shots still end up open, airy, distant, and unconstrained. You can see the compression and lack of distortion from the middle-long lenses, but none of the closeness.
The only time my lenses are ever used to get close to my subjects or try to catch them looking my way is with animals, which I'm sure is no coincidence.
Uncommonly intimate subject framings
All this to say, it's been thought provoking and confidence building to reflect on these questions. I may not have set out into photography with any explicit voice or worldview I wanted to express, but looking over what I've done I so vividly see a mirror reflecting myself back. I think it's really powerful how, even without any specific voiced thought, people can't help but to express and expose themselves in the act of creativity.