The photographer, to me, is a fly that gets invited into a party. A body that’s ready to act on its intuition for storytelling and is always watching the emergence and disappearance of emotions. It’s a tricky art capturing those expressions of genuine affection, fear, or joy. The very potency of such moments is what makes them rare–and the reason a photograph is a vial of elixir that is equal parts motion and emotion. They are sadness swilling in a white styrofoam cup, friendship sloshing inside a beer bottle and a champagne glass overflowing with giddiness.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Motion.”
Notes and Drafts 