Lately I’ve been developing a bit of a complex: always behind the camera, never in front of.
Twice in the last month group pictures have been taken while I’ve been away in the bathroom. I’ve been asked more if I’m bringing my camera than to take a picture with someone.
(As an aside: the more people ask me to bring my camera, the less I want to do so. The more people say they like my pictures, the more I want to bring my camera).
I’ve pretty much grabbed the role of memory keeper the last ten years. I’ve had a camera or camcorder in my hands more times than I have not. I love leafing through albums of photographs or flipping through them on my laptop. I enjoy it.
But somewhere along that line, I forgot how to be in front of the camera. For awhile, I got really into self-portraits to prove I existed; to prove I was more than a ghost. But instead of existences I received backlash–“Oh, you’re so full of yourself,” or, “geez, ever photograph anyone but yourself?”
So that dwindled.
Sometimes it will get to a point where I don’t even want to have a camera on or near me. I might snap at someone if they ask me to snap them.
I don’t, however, snap back, “well, why doesn’t anyone ever take my picture?”
Instead, I silently assume the worst.
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This post was written as a Just Write exercise. A good challenge to get the rust off and find my creativity once more. Bear with me while I attempt to find it!
Check out others’ Just Write posts here.