Why I Do What I Do

" If I didn't have my camera to remind me constantly, I am here to do this, I would eventually have slipped away, I think. I would have forgotten my reason to exist. "
Annie Leibovitz

If I could tell you how many times I came across a quote by Annie Leibovitz that mimicked exactly what I was thinking,  you would have grown bored of me many many moons ago.  

I do not remember exactly how old I was one when I got my first camera, but I remember detail by detail how I felt.  I always loved to draw and paint, and I still do, but the day I help my firs camera was magic to me.  I felt like I was given the gift to end all gifts...the ability to freeze time.  To have physical records of the encounters that were both important and not.  Maybe I was 7.  I forget, I didn't take a picture.

Yesterday afternoon, I returned with my fiance and his two boys, from out annual trip to Cobleskill, NY where we visit his family every year.  After pestering him about this for a few years,  on July 4, 2012, driving down Route 7 to his uncle's house, we stopped and parked in front of, what could only be described as "The Diner That Time Forgot".  The structure I am describing to you is the location where my fiance's grandmother, Millie, had her diner.  

Over the years, I had heard so many stories about the diner, how trucks used to stop there all the time before the new throughway opened, how his sisters would help out sometimes...just a wonderful place with wonderful memories.  You would never know that this was a place full of life from looking at it.  Actually, if you look at my earlier post, you will see three photos I took of the diner a few days ago.  At first, I stood far enough to get a shot of the entire building, then I went a bit closer and then all the way up to the window, or at least as far as I could go without potentially getting yelled by the property owner(s) or becoming a feeding ground for tics.  As I looked through the window (and through my view finder), I began to assess the importance of what I was doing.  No one could guess that this once diner, would be turned into a storage area for garbage.  What once was a place that served hot food and coffee, was now a housing structure for broken lamps and rusted appliances.  The diner was now a dumping ground for the property owners, who I believe, reside in the trailer a few yards away.  Although I personally have to connection to the diner, I did feel a sadness, knowing what had become of a once lively place.  A place which was once considered a landmark to truck drivers.  What was worse, was that there was no telling the last time anyone had even gone there to store more garbage.  The grass in front of the door was a minimum of 4 feet high.  However, sadness and signs of neglect aside, I fulfilled the purpose of that moment, which was to document a part of my fiance's and soon to be stepsons' family history.  

I must say that I felt relief after I had the photos.  Not just because I had finally done what I had been wanting to do for years, but because you never know how long you have to capture something (or someone, as the case may sometimes be).  

Although, from a young age, it became part of my life's mission to record people, place and events, the importance of such a desire came over me ten-fold after a dear friend of mine passed away over ten years ago.  On top of the sadness which comes with losing a loved one, I realized that I had no pictures of her anywhere. The one time that we were together and I was about to take her picture, her boyfriend signed on to the computer, and she ran to chat with him.  I thought nothing of it.  I was busy drinking a beer and figure I would catch her again next time.  Next time never came.  She died a week later.  As a result, I have spent the last 10 1/2 years, snapping away, but also working on perfecting the craft.   To be a serious photographer, you need to spend time harassing those who know much more than you do and suck them dry.  Currently, for the last two, soon to be three semesters, I have been leaching off of Tony Gonzalez (http://tonygonzalezartist.com/).  

I assume I am achieving some sort of skill because I have sold some of my work.  Some to repeat buyers, so one must assume, I am either pretty damn good, or just manage to surround myself with lots of people who have no taste.  So long as someone buys my work, I'm pretty good either way.  

So I guess that's pretty much it.  I am, in a manner of speaking, a glorified record keeper, who occasionally finds patrons who happen to give a damn about the same memories I care about it, and would like to keep these memories in their home or office or wherever.   And not just records of people or places.  My series on childhood, "Kids Are Creepy", is based solely on creating a visual for the memories we made and the emotions we had during those events.  They are depictions of moments lost, due to time always running forward and not being happy or pretty enough for our parents to capture them in celuloide, at least in some cases.  In other photos in the series, they are depictions of emotions happening in real time.  The photos themselves are staged, but the events they represent are very much current, again, making them records.  

So that is why I do what I do.  The day I stop creating will be the day I am dead and buried.  Of course, that's not what I tell my stepsons.  When they ask me why I have to do this, my answer is always the same to them..."THIS IS FOR WHEN I'M OLD!  NOW HOLD STILL!"