One of my favorite memories growing up is that of my dad always seeming to have a camera and taking lots and lots of pictures. I always wanted to be like him, taking pictures with a fancy camera! In fact, I've been fascinated by photography as far back as I can remember, thanks to him.
Although I didn't delve too deep into photography until recently, I always owned some sort of little camera. Always. If it wasn't a regular point and shoot, it was a disposable. I took so many pictures, none of which I would call "art." But looking back through them, I can see how much a part of my life photography was all along. And I certainly day dreamed of being a "real photographer" someday - whatever that meant!! I'm not real sure...
Capturing those snippets of time is the outward expression of my memories, often much easier to call upon than sifting through the filing cabinets of my mind. As soon as I see a picture, it conjures up the memory where it plays out in "Technicolor", so to speak. I can't think of another single thing that will bring a memory forth so quickly.
And that's one of the most fascinating aspects of photography: It has the power to transport the viewer to another time and place, to allow someone to vicariously experience the world through another's eyes, to see things that may not have been possible otherwise. It can inspire, bring tears of joy or tears of sorrow, spur someone into action, evoke wonderment.
All of this without a single word. It is a universal language.
I love it. I truly, passionately love it.