Don't Break This Rule. Only This One.

Never Do This or That

I wrote myself a note today after doing what the note said is a requisite activity for normalcy.

That means I’m either not normal or can’t read. I wrote the note. That means I’m not normal.

“Never lick a sharp knife.”

Seems like a reasonable idea. Unless the knife has a substantial portion of chunky cheesy residue from slicing a wedge of Huntsman cheese, a favorite of mine that is both expensive and only available for a short period each year after its single production run in England.

Huntsman has a firm and crumbly texture with layers of Stilton sandwiched between layers of Double Gloucester. I know you were asking.

There aren’t any photos of it tonight because I paired it with fruit and sausage followed by a Guinness and didn’t want to be distracted from this opportunity for a rare cheese on my personal and private charcuterie board.

There are more than 1,100 photos with cheese in my archive. None of the cheese photos are Huntsman. I looked just to make sure because I wanted one to go with this newsletter. Had to settle for a different cheese.

That’s important. Important that I have something that I’ve enjoyed enough just for the experience to have not picked up the camera and made a photo. I probably do that more often than I’d like to admit. Sometimes it’s important to just be the observer. To watch. To let everything flow around you. Flow through you.

Then, when you are ready, making a photo of that thing will be a much greater experience because you’ve become connected to it. It’s become a part of you and your experience.

It’s no different than the often-referred adage that you should sometimes leave the cameras in the car until you can gain the trust of your subjects. To make them feel comfortable about you when you have cameras because they know you as more than just a photographer. You’ve shared yourself with them.

You also should leave the cameras in the car because then you become your subject, learning to be comfortable with the subjects and getting to know them through something other than a viewfinder.

Cameras can be a shield, a barrier for both subject and photographer. The best relationship between photographer and subject is when both easily offer their vulnerabilities, to allow the other to see their humanity. A humanity that needs to be seen. Needs to be photographed. That understands the other’s needs and wants.

A good photograph tells two stories. One story is the subject’s. That’s the reason the photographer is there.

The other is the photographer’s. The photos explain how the photographer viewed the subject. What aspects were important and which ones to exclude or ignore? Good photographers give away a part of themselves when they live an experience with the subject. A lived experience does not need perfection to be right. All it needs is a connection between subject and storyteller. Getting that connection is important.

Both stories are better told when there is a common experience between the subject and the photographer.

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PhotoCamp Daily also recommends Civic Capacity and Into the Morning by Krista Steele.