If you were to ask me to list the things that make me want to go outside, almost all of them have something to do with taking pictures of anything and everything. Golden trees in the fall, white powder in the winter, colorful, blooming petals in the spring.

My passion for the art of capturing a moment did not stem from my parents, or anyone on either side of my family for that matter. If you just take a look through my parents homemade calendars, you can see they do not have an eye for photography unless it means taking pictures of their daughter. They know how to take pictures of organized scenes, portraits mostly, but not of the spontaneous, “quick, take out your camera” moments that I love.

I remember when I started loving photography. I was around three or four, and my dad and I would always go to museums whenever we were in a new area. No matter where we were, I would always seem to gravitate towards the exhibits that were riddled with photos. Historic or modern, large or small, it didn’t matter to me. I started taking pictures soon after with my moms old, broken camera that didn’t really work. The early ones were mainly of my cat sleeping, or my dad sitting in his half broken recliner, simply because I had not yet required permission to go outside by myself, and I had no siblings. Even though the pictures were horrid and repetitive, that’s where I fell in love with the process and they just progressed and got better from there.
For me, photography is a way to hold onto those little moments you’ll never get again. A first encounter, a child’s first steps, things that can only happen once. I can look at a photo and immediately recall where and when I took it. A black and white portrait of my feet pointing toward the sky; a drive-in movie on a chilly June night, lying on a blanket of piano notes. A white blanket of snow on a still morning; the day after a very sad, but easy Christmas. Memories attached to a small rectangle, forever frozen and cherished in time.

Sometimes, however, I get self conscious about taking photos in public, even though that’s where I get my best subjects. I’ll concern myself with what others on the street think I’m doing, and now that I have an actual camera and not just the simple one on my phone, I feel like others watch me and judge me and my Canon. They probably could care less, but eyes can burrow and stop me from capturing an encounter or moment I’ll never see exactly like that again.

Even after this, there are so many things to love about photography that I look over any potential downers on my favorite hobby. It’s an easy way to let go of stress by taking a favorite few seconds and making them forever. It’s a way to show people how I see things or how I want them to be in reality. But most importantly, it shows beauty, strength, unity, heartbreak, jubilance, and every feeling imaginable with just a click of a button.