I have a camera in my head. I use it all the time, taking mental snapshots of anything interesting I encounter.
This inner camera functions like a real one, complete with f-stops, shutter speeds, a wide lens, and a telephoto lens. The images I capture with it are etched into my mind. If a picture is truly remarkable, I can recall it for days or even weeks. I wish I could download these images and share them.
Being a photographer involves both the camera in my mind and real cameras.
There are many reasons for taking pictures: to experience, discover, reveal, surprise, and remember. Perhaps the most important reason is to share and connect.
I imagine most photographers feel the same. However, capturing images doesn’t always mean I get to show them. Thousands of pictures remain in my mind, a silent record of my experiences that only I can view.
In the age of camera phones, I choose to look beyond selfies. Every day, people post selfies with captions like "Look! Here I am!" on various social media platforms, moving from one grand experience to another without any apparent reflection. Camera phones often serve as a way to announce our existence but offer little else.
When I see people in places like the grocery store, post office, restaurant, or ski hill, with or without their phones, I see them living in their own unique world. That's when I often feel compelled to take a picture.”Look at this! I think, isn’t that remarkable?” Or I may stand in awe of a landscape that speaks to me and think, “I should take a picture.”
Today, photography is more accessible than ever. Everyone with a camera phone can take pictures, but that still doesn’t mean there’s much to say.
I must be content to be a conscious photographer, practice my own mindfulness and connect deeply with myself if not others.
Like the billions of daily cell phone photos, my photos may vanish into the ether of the Internet or the cloud or be consumed by AI. My decision to see is a gamble; I willingly risk becoming irrelevant. Yet, seeing allows me to document my journey and find meaning in it.
As time goes on, it becomes more challenging. Life gets in the way. Routine overcomes curiosity. Responsibility takes precedence over adventure. Boredom sets in. That’s the nature of life.
If I stop seeing, if I choose to ignore what’s right in front of me, I risk abandoning my purpose and render my pursuit of meaning... meaningless.
I remind myself that no one forced me to be a photographer. It was a choice, a gift to myself. As a young man, I pondered what was truly worth doing with my life. Becoming a photographer seemed to be an amazing way to live.
Now, in middle age and with less hair, I continue to take pictures with my mind, my iPhone, and my old-school digital cameras.
Being a photographer today means persisting. I must keep taking pictures, keep looking, exploring, and witnessing.
As this collection of images suggests, being a photographer is a commitment to never stop seeing.
— Sean