Two Years

It's safe to say I'm sad today.

It's not a typical, parasitic sadness that overwhelms the inhabitant in every way shape and form. No, it's not like that. It's more of a peaceful, encompassing solace wrapping itself around me like a nostalgic patchwork quilt or a faded leather jacket tucked in the back of my closet. Memories tie themselves to each of my senses, and I find comfort in the preserved newness in the infinite webbing of patches and creases. If anything, I find this sadness one to embrace. Yes, it's like that.

Losing a loved one is perhaps the hardest thing a person can go through in life. Undoubtedly it has been for me, and to this day I find everything I do in my day to day life tying back to this one monumental event.

I took this picture when I was about thirteen or so, with a little point and shoot Canon in Nevada. Part of me wishes I could retake the picture with a huge fancy mother with a magical shutter speed and enough megapixels to blow it up wallpaper sized. Part of me wishes the budding "lets give it a go" inkling for photography I had then was already the indescribable passion I have for it now, allowing me to focus on just exactly I was taking the picture of, keeping in mind lighting and composition.

But mostly I don't. I dub this picture my starting point, and it's unbelievably special to me. The way his gaze branches outward, his stately pose in that jacket he couldn't bear but-you-can't-wear-Columbia-to-a-wedding. This will always be my absolute favorite.

Portraits. There's no way I'm the best at taking them, but I can't be the worst. And I can't help but feel the need to take as many as I can, because if I can capture even a piece of a person and give that piece to all of their loved ones, then I guess I feel like I did something right.

1.29.08

“You will begin to touch heaven, in the moment that you touch perfect speed. And that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, or flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn’t have limits. Perfect speed, my son, is being there.”