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Description
Paparazzi.

Over the weekend, I’ve heard the word thrown more than once in my direction. It’s well-earned, I know. For years, ever since I first held a camera, I’ve loved to take shots of people I know- and even those I don’t- in unguarded moments. A laugh as they talk with friends. Just walking across the room. Dancing with their other half. Bending over and cooing at a friend’s newborn. I just love those pictures.

Of course, because they’re taken unaware, people object. I guess they see the camera as invading on private moments- even when it’s not exactly “private”. I can understand…. But I still can’t stop. It’s like a fire, an impulse I can’t control, this need to capture their images as they go about their lives. Over the past weekend, I’ve had some time to sit down and, for the first time, think of why.

I detest posing for photographs- have I ever mentioned that? My head looks strange, my features twisted. I detest my smile. Strangely enough, though, when I look in a mirror I like what I see (most of the time, anyway). I don’t think I’m ugly anymore. I’m just… me. The camera refuses to believe that, though, and the image I see in it is the same one I used to see when I was younger, and hating almost everything about my face and body. So I confiscated cameras when we went out. I controlled the pictures. I know that it’s begun, in a way, to control me. I feel… safe… when there’s a camera lens between me and the rest of the world. Kind of the way I feel when I’m behind a keyboard or have my pen in hand and the words just… flow. Or the way I feel when I’m lost in a great book. Those four: pen and keyboard, camera, and books- they’re my safety blankets. It’s so hard to let go of that. Frankly, I see no reason to.

People mistake me for an outgoing person quite a bit. They think that because I’m always smiling, always laughing, that I make friends easily. Sometimes I think that some may think me a bit of a flirt. The exact opposite is true, though. I hide my real self so well that it only comes out when I’m like this: safely at home, hiding behind my computer screen, and all the words and feelings and thoughts just spill out so quickly and overflow and gosh, look at me. Just letting the feelings go for the first time in so long has me crying. I’ll be twenty-six soon. It freaks me out and depresses me: so many years, and so little about me has changed in some ways.

So, we go back to the first question: why unposed photos? I think it’s an extension of the camera being my safety blanket, as well as a small throwback to how some viewed cameras when they were first invented: as soul stealers. I KNOW I’m intruding… but I want to capture, not faces, but moments. Moments I’d probably spoil if I just walk up to them and try to take part, to sink into the wonder of the people they are up close and personal. You know the moments: those quiet, unseen moments that make your friends the people they are; the people you love. As we all know, all too easily, this life can take away those moments. That peace. These people.

Is it so wrong of me to want to hold on to as many little pieces of them as I can, in the only way I feel safe?

Description
Paparazzi.

Over the weekend, I’ve heard the word thrown more than once in my direction. It’s well-earned, I know. For years, ever since I first held a camera, I’ve loved to take shots of people I know- and even those I don’t- in unguarded moments. A laugh as they talk with friends. Just walking across the room. Dancing with their other half. Bending over and cooing at a friend’s newborn. I just love those pictures.

Of course, because they’re taken unaware, people object. I guess they see the camera as invading on private moments- even when it’s not exactly “private”. I can understand…. But I still can’t stop. It’s like a fire, an impulse I can’t control, this need to capture their images as they go about their lives. Over the past weekend, I’ve had some time to sit down and, for the first time, think of why.

I detest posing for photographs- have I ever mentioned that? My head looks strange, my features twisted. I detest my smile. Strangely enough, though, when I look in a mirror I like what I see (most of the time, anyway). I don’t think I’m ugly anymore. I’m just… me. The camera refuses to believe that, though, and the image I see in it is the same one I used to see when I was younger, and hating almost everything about my face and body. So I confiscated cameras when we went out. I controlled the pictures. I know that it’s begun, in a way, to control me. I feel… safe… when there’s a camera lens between me and the rest of the world. Kind of the way I feel when I’m behind a keyboard or have my pen in hand and the words just… flow. Or the way I feel when I’m lost in a great book. Those four: pen and keyboard, camera, and books- they’re my safety blankets. It’s so hard to let go of that. Frankly, I see no reason to.

People mistake me for an outgoing person quite a bit. They think that because I’m always smiling, always laughing, that I make friends easily. Sometimes I think that some may think me a bit of a flirt. The exact opposite is true, though. I hide my real self so well that it only comes out when I’m like this: safely at home, hiding behind my computer screen, and all the words and feelings and thoughts just spill out so quickly and overflow and gosh, look at me. Just letting the feelings go for the first time in so long has me crying. I’ll be twenty-six soon. It freaks me out and depresses me: so many years, and so little about me has changed in some ways.

So, we go back to the first question: why unposed photos? I think it’s an extension of the camera being my safety blanket, as well as a small throwback to how some viewed cameras when they were first invented: as soul stealers. I KNOW I’m intruding… but I want to capture, not faces, but moments. Moments I’d probably spoil if I just walk up to them and try to take part, to sink into the wonder of the people they are up close and personal. You know the moments: those quiet, unseen moments that make your friends the people they are; the people you love. As we all know, all too easily, this life can take away those moments. That peace. These people.

Is it so wrong of me to want to hold on to as many little pieces of them as I can, in the only way I feel safe?