“There’s plenty to read forever. Like, in a sense, nobody needs another book from anyone… and so the realization of that, how many books are published every year… and that really the only reason to write a book is because you had the absolute and utter conviction that it needed to be in the world.”

I rewound this sound bite of Gabrielle Zevin (author of Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow) on Adam Grant’s Rethinking podcast, and listened to it over and over. It clearly resonated.

There are trillions and trillions of photographs in the world. And while the world is always changing, and we are always changing, one could argue that we don’t need new photos of our family, our life, our world.

The only reason to make another photograph, another piece of art, is because I have the absolute and utter conviction that it needs to be in the world. I have that drive, that push, or pull, or whatever force it is that may be with me. I feel it so strongly. I see it with my eyes and feel in my heart that I want others to see it.

Photographs are a way for you to be seen, when you’re in them. A way for you, the person in the photo, to be more understood by others, and also a way for you to see yourself differently later.

Photos are also a way for the photographer to be better understood, at the same time. This is how I see the world. To see this photograph, this piece of art, is to see a small window into how I see the world. See this, and know me, for a fraction of a second.

See this photograph, and better understand both the photographer and the photographed. There’s connection in that fraction. The connection of seeing and being seen, of knowing and being known, just for that briefest moment in time.

That connection comes through the finished photo. Is the person tense or relaxed? Have they let down their guard for the photographer? Has the photographer made a connection or just captured a millisecond of the person’s life?

It’s important for me to find that connection, to get past the awkward first moments a client might feel in front of a camera and to make the camera finally be an extension of me, a tool that captures what my eyeballs see. It’s hard to get it exactly right, with the calculations of settings and light and that so-important connection. To make it all work in a harmonious ballet, a flow that carries us through the moment together and places us gently on the other side.

This is why I practice, why I connect before sessions, why I care. I want us both to be seen. If we could all just see each other a little bit more, maybe the world would be a better place.

This is why I photograph, when there are already so many trillions of photos in the world. To see and be seen, to understand and be understood. To connect with someone or something outside of myself. I’ll never stop trying to find that.

Sometimes I get all philosophical and wax poetic instead of writing practical takeaways for the blog.

Interested in seeing more of these types of posts?

How photos reshape a memory

Forever and the blink of an eye

They’re never “just snapshots”

Project 365: an ordinary life

The longest night