There is so much beauty around us; the mechanical perfection of a Gallet timepiece, the love that drives a stranger to save a child from an oncoming bus, a picture perfect sunset. The poetic justice of having a perfect season only to lose in the championship game, the beautiful irony of requiring the world’s largest machine to find the world’s tiniest particle. A walk along a river, a drive down a country road. The roar of a jet engine, the rumble of a muscle car. The innocence in a child’s smile, the serenity in a grandmother’s eye. Duct tape and WD-40. The spark of a fresh idea in the mind, the constant beating of the heart. The grip of a tire on asphalt, a perfect gear fitting. A moving ballad, a striking riff. The hug of a stranger, the idea that you may have changed someone’s life. Fifty thousand people coming together to stop an unknown stranger from jumping off a bridge.
I’m not the greatest photographer to ever walk the face of our planet and I don’t strive to be. I simply attempt to capture as much of the beauty around me as I can. I think we photographers sometimes get caught up too much in the technical details- composition, exposure, cameras, lenses, strobes, tripods, and so on. A perfect photograph isn’t about the technical; a perfect photograph is a moment.
People like to think of a photograph as capturing a point in time. And that’s just not true. Since 1967, a second has been defined as "the duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the Caesium 133 atom" (13th General Conference on Weights and Measures). A relatively common shutter speed of 1/60 seconds is equivalent to 153,210,530 periods of radiation. 0.0167 seconds is not a point in time at all. It’s over 150 million times the amount of time a dainty atom requires to vibrate once. That’s a moment in time.
I photograph to capture a moment, I photograph because I have to believe that there is beauty around us. We just have to look.