Cameras are such fun, aren’t they? When I was a child, my father gave me a Brownie and I could take 8 pictures before retiring to a darkened place. Changing the film was a delicate operation in those days and all the more exciting for it. I progressed to a Kodak and over the years both Doc and I have always had a couple of cameras in our hand luggage when we go on holiday.
We now have a large blanket box full of photographs, none of which are labelled and many of the earliest ones are faded. I have wondered about sorting them out but I fear that an index filing system would not add something to the collection, but take something away. Now and then I lift the lid, randomly choose a wallet and sift through the contents. One minute I find number-one-son playing in the sandpit, the next he is standing tall on his graduation day - and, crikey, I had forgotten number-one-daughter could ride on two wheels at such a young age! It is a box full of jumbled, precious memories, just like those inside my head.
Digital photography has transformed me into a prolific, happy snapper and I click away like mad in the garden. My trowel sits at one end of the trug and my camera is at the other in case the perfect shot comes into focus. I enjoy playing around with the pictures in my virtual ‘gallery’ and sometimes I try something technical like changing the contrast or cropping out the washing line which is spoiling the view. Now and then, I dare to feel a little smug at my efforts and decide for the umpteenth time to take my ‘Art’ more seriously. This is very embarrassing because of course there is photography and there is photography.
We know a professional photographer called Simon and he definitely has the X factor. He has won 5 awards this year and there doesn’t seem to be anything he can’t do with a camera. He can make a piece of industrial metal look sexy and more importantly, he can take 15 years of my face.
Currently, I am trying to catch a shot of one our resident robins who regularly takes a dip in our new bird bath. When I see him from the kitchen window, I grab a camera as fast as I can and if he is still there by the time I have got the camera out of the case – which isn’t very often – I either try to sneak up on him or use the zoom lens. My attempts have so far have included images of blurred nothingness and a smudge flying off into the hedge.
I am sure if I ask him, Simon will know exactly how to photograph our robin splashing about in the pool but I think it may involve sitting under a camouflage tent for hours on end. And that’s the problem with me, I would prefer to make an appointment with Mr Robin and have the photo completed in around 5 minutes because I have got other things to do in the garden. Neither am I self-disciplined enough to sit and read the dozen or so photography books on our bookshelf.
So, unless Simon has a better idea, it looks like I will have to buy one of those artificial robins that the local garden centre sells as Christmas decorations and attach it to the side of the bird bath. Granted, there won’t be much action in my picture, but you can’t have everything, can you?
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