ALL THE PHOTOS THAT ARE FIT TO PRINT
How do you curate almost fifty years of life in photographs? Like anything, it’s a matter of priorities and focus (pardon the pun). I love to create - to get out and walk around, to see moments unfold and to capture some small part of that magic. I create art from these moments, these little droplets of essence, in my digital darkroom (which is really a computer that sits on a well-lit kitchen table). Once created, they feel alive to me and I want a better fate for these colorful "children" beyond existing and gathering virtual dust on my hard drive. And so they live together here, interacting with you.
A photo can be made for a lot of reasons - snapshots to capture memories, selfies to attract media followers or mates, composition to create art, documentary shots to illustrate stories. Regardless of the reason, photos are a window into the mind and soul of the photographer, capturing attitudes, priorities, and cultural values. I make mine because it gives me pleasure and is a way to express emotion with light, color, and shadow.
I can also see my own progress in life in these photos. I see how my beliefs, values, and vision have changed over the years. It's like a journal of sorts, populated not with words, but with images.
Much of my photographic data has been lost to multiple moves, a couple of divorces, and a tendency to purge far too easily. I have deep technicolor memories of sunsets in Arizona, hikes in the woods, time with friends, and portraits I took. My last summer at church camp I put my dad’s Agfa into a ziplock bag and blew it up so it would float. I waded out into the river in chest-deep icy water, carefully unzipped the bag, and took what turned out to be a beautiful photo of a waterfall from water level. Gone. I have no idea where.
You have to get Zen about it at some point. Create the art and let it flow away where it needs to go. Detach from the ‘children’ you create and allow them to stay with you if they want and to leave when they are ready.
Please enjoy that which remains.
Cat Calhoun