Exposing the Magic of the Mundane - A Reflection on Photography
“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever… It remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.”
— Aaron Siskind
I fell in love with photography the way I fall in love with most things; unexpectedly, somewhat haphazardly, but full of such passion and joy. I was a child of the ‘90s and like most kids those days, I was often equipped with a cheap disposable camera or one of those bulky Polaroids. Capturing moments had a sort of magic to them. I would often flap the small black rectangle, trying to speed up the developing process while being careful not to smudge the photo. Similarly, I had no real idea of how the film would develop on those cheap disposables until the stack from Walgreens or CVS were placed in my hands. More often than not, at least a quarter of my stack of photos would be entirely indecipherable. By high school, cellphones and digital cameras were more of the norm, but for me, the magic of photography waned as it became less about the unknowns behind the process and more about capturing those fleeting moments in time.
As someone who grew up highly sensitive and empathetic, but initially struggled to develop connections with others, I often looked to the sometimes faded and scratched photos of my family’s yesteryears for some understanding of self. I won’t lie to you and say that I found such a thing, but what I did see was an archive of a beautiful and complicated family. I’d often sit on the floor of my grandparents’ living room, leafing through the hefty albums analyzing the photos and trying to piece together some sort of narrative. Like most families, my mother’s side loves to tell stories, and the photos acted as a jumping off point that wound their way into some sort of elaborate tale where someone would interject and debate a factoid before you lost track of where the story was originally supposed to go.
In my early 20’s, I got my first DSLR. It was a Canon Rebel T2i that my former partner gifted me. I had just moved back from the DC area a little bit before this and I craved a new creative outlet that was quicker than my illustrative work. The photos from that time were questionable at best, but I learned a lot. I carried that first camera with me to concerts and gallery shows as I entered the world of local art and blogging. It became my way of highlighting community.
These days, through the ease of iPhones, I take a lot of photos. Some of that is because my memory is horribly flawed at times. I can either effortlessly recall a conversation word for word and can accurately describe the soft, vibrant green of moss on a morning hike, or I struggle to remember when I last ate. For me, iPhone photos capture those transient moments that remind me of where I’ve been, so I don’t lose track of the timeline of my life.
But now, when I pull out my DSLR, photography takes on an entirely different meaning. I opt for my camera when I truly have something to say, while knowing that once it enters the world it no longer reflects just my voice, but also the viewer’s interpretation. Despite this, most often that story is about the subtle magic in the overlooked spaces or the joys and tragedy of Black life in America. This is why I gravitate towards still life, city scapes, nature/exploration, and occasionally, portraits. It’s very rare that I cover external events, but when I do, they have to have meaning.
My favorite photographer, Gordon Parks, once said, “I picked up a camera because it was my choice of weapons against what I hated most about the universe: racism, intolerance, poverty.” I take his words to heart. There is such power in the lens. Like most art, it acts as a mirror to our world. It shows us our beauty, but also our flaws. Contemporary photographers like Gina Danza, Andre Wagner, Yagazie Emezi, and Jamie Beck have been inspiring to follow. Each one tackles the complex question of life and why we’re here through different avenues, and I have such deep respect for their storytelling abilities.
More recently, my heart has been telling me to dive deeper into my exploration of photography. I’ve gone back to the instant film era, but that hasn’t fully satiated my curiosity. True film has been a frontier that I have hesitated to dive into. Some of it is due to time, or lack there of. Some of it is related to just sheer intimidation of that form of art, but there’s something truly enchanting about watching a blank sheet develop. It’s a bit like watching a tulip awaken for the day.
The longer I exist on this planet, the more I want to document my time here. Maybe it’s a bit egotistical of me to think that I have any sort of unique perspective on the human existence, but I believe that there’s no harm in adding to the collective knowledge. I just hope my work helps inspire others to tell their own stories.
Onward,
~ Bron
