Far away thoughts sometimes fill my mind like clouds on a stormy day. They are dreams, not of being someone else, or being someplace else, but of doing something else. I dream of changing the landscape each day, of doing what makes me happy and of making a substantial enough of a living at it that I can come home after half a day of work and be with the ones I love. I dream of being able to move my family to a better neighbourhood, and of being able to spend time with my friends. The centre of all these thoughts? Photography.
I wish only to be able to photograph things, to see them in a new way, and to capture that vision for others to see. It could be a dream car, a dream girl, or a nightmarish scene in an old house, but be it what it is, I want to envision it and capture it and share it with the world. I want to escape shame and capture the sights that my mind conjures up without the judgement of narrow minded people and short sighted ideas. I am not talking about making dirty pictures, but making creative ones! I am on about seeing outside the box, and capturing images that spur the imagination to seeing things in a new way, unconventional to modern society. Why shouldn’t a cop and a prostitute be seen dancing on the ceiling of a basement room? Don’t they do that in their own way now? How about a priest and a choir girl? How about a crucifixion with a bull on the centre cross? Whatever the idea, how about truly creating it in a hard format that others can experience?
I often find that the true medium when expressed fully is judged for content that is in a single image what a book might be with all of its chapters and words to tell of a single controversial thought. If the story is too harsh or stirs too much inside other people then it is rejected under the form and label of pornography, or some other thought limiting broad brush that paints the black swath of censorship across it, hiding it from the view of others who might judge it fairly.
The thoughts swirl around like a hurricane, and with them comes the force of the hurricane. For the rebellious, the wall against which we beat our heads only makes us want to beat our heads harder against it, knowing that one day it must be beaten down, and we must be free!
Kelsey