In the very beginning…

Taking photos has been something I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember, but it didn’t become a driving force in my life until half way through high school, when I chose photography as my art-class subject. Our small group of pimply and angst ridden sixteen year olds was introduced to black and white film and hand processing/printing.

Wow. Talk about “defining life moments”… I remember that darkroom as if it were yesterday: the dim red light, the smell of fixer on your fingers, Morcheeba on the stereo, and that sublimely spectacular moment when you put a piece of paper in the developer and an image starts to appear in the red gloom. Slowly at first, and then faster, the indistinct blur transforms itself into a photograph. A real photograph! One that I took! Me! My own!


The three images below are from that time in my life. They are not the very first photos I ever printed but they have become, to me, a symbol of where it all started. I look at them now and I see many flaws, if I had to shoot them again I KNOW they would be infinitely better: exposure, composition, focus, everything. They were badly printed and are covered in chemical stains and fingerprints which are slowly getting worse with age.

But I love them, just the way they are. They are my past, a reminder of who I am and why I do what I do. On bad days I look at them and think that they’re not worthy of their space on our bedroom wall. And on good days I feel a little glow of pride at how far I’ve come since then, and think about how how far I still have to go…


  1. These are really lovely, even if they are “flawed.” The contrast of textures between feather and skin is beautifully captured.

  2. Justin

    To me, the flaws are the charm, giving texture, grit, depth and feeling to the wonderful discovery that are those first photos…

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