‘Life plays out in front of the forgotten fish in his tank, He swims round disinterestedly through the shipwreck that never sank…’

The digital shift has made me lackadaisical. I have catch up, play back, rewind live TV. That postmodern trend of making it all too easy leaves me wandering around lost. The way forward is sign posted and all it does it make me want to go in the opposite direction,towards the past.
That’s how I feel about photography.
Taking photos used to be an experience to savor;Searching out experiences worth immortalizing in film and developing the photos long after life has marched on. Isn’t that what’s life’s about dragging out your ending?.
The suspense you felt when you were handed your developed film. The weight of those memories in your hands reminding you it was all real.
On this cold Grey autumn day, When I open my plastic wallet I can smell sun lotion, coconuts and salt. I can remember life when it was good.
My digital camera with its instant displays and play back menu makes my photos as familiar as the painted wall I sleep next to. I can’t help but zoom, crop , edit and enhance, creating a lost truth and a moment that never existed .In my digital photo I look imposing, my smiles wider, my pout more pronounced, My pose pensively rehearsed.
My image reminds me of those sad dyed flowers that stand in buckets immodest and artificial ready to be bought at an Esso garage.
Is that me? .
My digital photos are like sycophantic best friends; they are with me on my best days and disappear on those murky muddy days that pass in between. I am my digital camera’s favorite muse and Facebook is my gallery. My photos have critics and the shots I take are like public thanks to my fans and a defiant fingers up to those that don’t believe in me;Those that I see as a threat.
Photos are personal submissions to life’s we live, and experiences we share, I’d hate for them to fall into the wrong hands.
At least I can give thanks that if by chance one night, some skilled thieving fingers lifted my digital camera from my clutch
I can confidently say……you wouldn’t find much.
Its funny my fish eye camera was presented to me in a plastic bag,It hung there at the bottom, bright square and proud.
I couldn’t wait to use it.
I’m not a photographer; an outsider would call me pretty mediocre behind the lens. The composition of my images is wonky and sometimes they’re darker than the lacquer that prints them.
To me that’s irrelevant. My quest is personal. All I want to do is see the world from a different point of view.
I know the world still exists at night, yet why is it only an animal’s naked eye can see it.
“Tell me Staffy is it special?”
My fish eye is wonderful.It hangs proudly round my neck. With only 32 pictures to a film it waits patiently for a moment worth immortalizing.
I’m thinking like a fish now, I have new subjects and a wider gaze.You have forgotten I’m even there.
I look for beauty, secret places and private moments, my curiosity frames every shot.
When pointed at me I smile wonkily, flash my bum, immerse myself in the moment, my poses are personal messages to the photographer.
I’m liberated by the thought it will be weeks till I view my photos and you may never even see them.