I thought I’d start the posts on the new (and hopefully improved) BenjPhoto blogsite by posting a favorite from the old site. I’m not going to repost everything from the old site, but this one helps to sum up my philosophy about photograpy. The original was posted on April 29th of 2008 (in internet time, that’s ancient). Enjoy!
The following is something I shared with a group of friends, fellow wedding photographers, on a wedding photography forum yesterday. It was so well received that I decided to post it here as well.
I was shooting an e-session this past weekend at the Mesa Arts Center with my pastor’s daughter, Christine and her fiance, Christian. The place has this fabulous blue wall that I love to use as a background element and all kinds of nifty water features.
We were taking these shots at one of the water features when I glimpsed some movement coming into frame right (albeit out of focus).
Quickly refocusing I saw that the movement was this little guy (below). He dropped in with lunch and just wanted a drink, so I snap a shot with him as the center of attention.
…and then the bird flies away.
It’s at this point that I think, “That’s why I do this…… To catch fleeting moments that will never be just so again. These two people; this place and time of day; this little bird……”
How often you hear stories about loved ones who’ve died and what comfort the photos bring to the family, or sadder still when they pass on and the thought is, “We were going to get some photos done…..” I’d been talking with someone about getting a shot of the various members of their family for some time and one day one of them was, like this bird, no longer there. Gone……
Have you ever seen a movie where someone suffers the loss of a loved one and they interact with a photo on the nightstand, drawing it close and examining the features, tracing them with a finger and then embracing it? Sure you have. Maybe some of you have actually interacted with photos in that way.
It’s not just the passing of loved ones that may trigger this emotional connection to our art. Moms might sit on the side of the bed holding a photo of a son or daughter who’s left home for college or a job in a distant place. Parents look back at photos of their children when they were younger and you see a trace of a smile at the corners of their mouth and a faint twinkle in the eye.
There’s a reason why we hear about people dragging the family photos out of a burning or flooding home – sometimes even risking their lives. I can’t picture someone racing back into a burning house to rescue the frozen wedding cake or tearfully tracing the edges of the caterer’s menu.
This may sound maudlin or sappy or even self-serving, but as important as they may be to the whole experience, I just don’t see the other things folks spend money on to make their wedding day “special” being able to have the same impact over time as our images and albums.
That’s why I think that what we do as photographers is important.
Carlos Benjamin is a photographer living in Northern Arizona. A native Kansan, he loves the diversity of the Arizona landscape and its people. Primarily a people photographer he is currently working other avenues of photography while attempting to correct a brain disorder that has his doctors baffled. 
Wonderful to read!
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Kudos! What a neat way of thikning about it.
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