Through the lens of my eyes and camera I feel like an explorer of uncharted territory, as if seeing things for the first time. It seems as though the fibers that weave the structural blueprint of matter from large to small are all of the same thread. I revel in the joy of these sublime moments.
Taken from Michele Wortman’s introduction to her gorgeous book “Moments of Epiphany,” those words describe exactly how I feel when I’m looking through the viewfinder of my camera. I’ve always felt that way but didn’t know how to put it into words.
I’ve been taking photographs for many years, but only recently discovered that I’m not taking, I’m making; gathering, combining, and then freezing a moment in time. A photograph is a slice of time that’s been stopped for you to analyze. A moment of history for future reference. A split second, perhaps 1/1000 of a second’s worth of time. There’s nothing that lasts as long that is worth more.
I think discerning what should be included in something as important as a moment frozen in time is often one of the hardest decisions a photographer makes. But she invariably knows when to press the shutter. Afterward, it may be determined that she waited a split second too long, and the moment passed. Or it might be that her timing was early, and what she knew to be there at that moment had somehow escaped. It is possible to frame and capture the subject just at the right time when you feel it in your heart.
I believe patterns speak directly to us. They move through us. They are an inherent part of our subconscious recognition. We are patterns; of matter, potential and energy. It is at this atomic level of awareness that we can see the oneness of everything.
Thank you, Michele Wortman, for putting into words what I feel in my heart. Perhaps I’ll capture an unseen pattern of energy recognizable in a frozen moment of time when I next press the shutter.