|Shaped logs on the beach at Madras, India|
I do. I like them a lot. But, relatively speaking, I don't write about them all that much. I'm told by photo-blogging friends that if I were to write about cameras more often I would have more readers. Many people want to read and learn about the latest and greatest in the camera world because they have bought into the lie that better cameras would make them better photographers. Unfortunately, that's not the way it works, because photography is not about cameras, but about life. What we do with our cameras if we are truly photographers and not just gadgeteers is record life as we see and experience it.
I may not have as many readers this way, but as I say in the introductory column to your left, I write the blog I would like to read if someone else were to write it.
So I would rather write about photography itself, rather than cameras. (Cameras are certainly necessary to do photography, but cameras themselves are not photography).
Or about life. Or about my life in photography. Cameras are the key that opened the door to this life, but they are not the life itself. Nonetheless, I owe those little tools big time. My cameras have taken me to many places I could never have gone and opened the door to many experiences I would never have had. So I'm grateful.
But when I write, I like to write,
not about the cameras, but about the places they have taken me. And about the
things they have made it possible for me to see and experience.
Because of my cameras, I was able to see fishermen come down to the city beach at Madras, India early in the morning to lash rough-hewn logs into a makeshift boat, launch it through the surf, and move out to a day's fishing.
|Perdue's Mill near Clarkesville, Georgia|
With my cameras I have driven many thousands of miles to create books about the backroads of Georgia. Although I have lived in Georgia for 45 years, I did not realize just how much I loved the state until a stranger looked at my photographs and told me what he saw in them.
Through my camera, I saw the setting sun throw a beam parallel to the ground and against the wall of a rural mission hospital in Nigeria, creating a scene of beauty and mystery.
Because of my cameras I was able to attend a worship service of the Underground Church in Moscow. Something few westerners have ever seen.
With my camera I watched Dr. Jaime Gomez dispense medicine and the Gospel to the people of a remote village in the mountains of northern Guatemala.
My cameras have given me access to a blessed, privileged life. But the credit does not go to the cameras, nor to me. The credit goes to a loving and supportive wife and to the one named in the line that appears at the bottom of this page and on every blog I post.
Blog Note: I post Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings at alifeinphotography.blogspot.com. I'm trying to build up my readership, so if you're reading this on Facebook and like what I write, would you please consider sharing my posts?
(Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins 2020)
Soli Gloria Deo
To the glory of God alone