It’s 6:30 am on Sunday morning and I’m sitting at my laptop with a warm cup of coffee. The mix is off. Its not as strong as I should have made it but I’m already too sunk in the writing to alter it now. I think I’ll stick this cup out. Every now and then I open up a folder on my archives that I’ve titled “The Age of Discovery”; giving my folders funny and quirky names is a habit I developed. “The Age of Discovery” contains pictures I often look back to, sometimes for motivation, sometimes out of raw nostalgia. The pictures in there aren’t technical gems or high-scoring Facebook hits. They’re what I remember more fondly as “fun pictures”. In fact, I titled this folder “Age of Discovery” because these pictures were taken in just that time; the time when I took my first serious steps into the practice of image-making and realized how much I enjoyed it. The width of the range of subject matter I shot is telling evidence that it was indeed fun to discover the art.
“Age of Discovery” is a repository, an era captured and stored. It’s a standalone story of an avalanche unleashed. Even though I don’t appear in any of the pictures I fondly remember what it was like to be there capturing every single one. The very first “serious” image I attempted was a sunset (featured image at top). The dry season 0f 2009 was particularly harsh and bush-fires had razed an already dying citrus field to the ground. On the verge of the rainy season the grass was just beginning to recover. The stalks were tall and the white puffy tufts of flowery seeds created a seamless cover over the charred black roots. It was sheer curiousity that led me to lay at eye level to the wafting white tufts to see how the sunset would look from there. I lay there with my camera for close to an hour before it happened. As the sun’s light turned golden the magic happened at this very eye-level. The camera, a Panasonic Lumix, was ready. I shot. What I waited more than one hour for, lasted just five minutes. In those five minutes I grabbed perhaps ten frames. Three of those ten frames I liked, even though they were variations of the same basic shot. After seeing the result (arguable as to how good or bad it is), I thought back to the process only to realize that I enjoyed every second that produced it.