As in all things about me lately, this blog has not quite received the attention that I believe it deserves.
Unfortunately, since beating deadlines for me lately has not just been about work, this blog would have to wait until I, er, finally take a vacation to Nueva York.
Kidding aside, not that too many people would be reading this anyway, I’d attempt to do this blog some justice–especially that its head speaks of something that would disappoint anyone who has so far seen the measly material that is in it.
First off, since I am a sucker for disclaimers, I don’t want to call myself that-which-takes-photos, because there are just too many hypocrites out there who think they are simply because they own a dee-es-el-ar.
Now come to think of it–I only heard of that word weeks before I bought mine. But ever since, entry- and middle-level prosumers had been popping out the hands of people around. And then, like Koreans invaded Baguio City in droves, the big black cameras also started hanging down people’s necks, wobbling along Session Road.
Do not get me wrong. I am not ostracizing nor am I implying I’m too good for them. Nor am I a purist–because in the first place, maybe people more senior than I am looked at me the same way I look at the hippies and yuppies who have started sporting prosumers like they do make-up. Or jejemon caps.
Photography, after all, started as a requirement. An academic requirement which part excited me, part made me guilty because I had to make my parents buy a camera that was six times my whole semester’s tuition fee (at that rate, the camera was already second hand, Nikon’s cheapest, and my tuition fee was just about three to four thousand).
To cut a crappy story short, I had been one of those camera-toting people walking down Session Road, who perhaps looked even more awkward (or trying hard) because I looked like I twist the lens with my right hand.
That angst, however, was momentary as far as I’m concerned, because I was more concerned about deviance than joining the fish in the sea, which was getting more crowded by the minute.
After a couple of pre-nuptials and weddings–both paid and not–I’m still using an 18-55 mm kit lens with my trusty D90. But I couldn’t complain. That lens has so far brought me where I am now, which I presume is a lot better than I had been two years ago.
Since I started my current job, my photography had taken a backseat–if I were right, I only got to charge it three to four times in the last six months.
Anyhow, as in anyone who dabs at taking photos, my love for my craft would always be there, no matter how often or how scarce I do get to use it.
Because my first year of taking photos involved an almost daily shoot–the rather spontaneous ones that were very much possible in a place as conducive as Baguio–my current situation has made me, er, miss doing exactly that.
And the best thing about taking photos is that, no matter how long the hiatus, one continues to improve. The way would always be forward. One can only get better.
Footnotes to Dave Hill, Manny Librodo, Lito Sy, Noli Gabilo, Niccolo Cosme, and our friend Ric Maniquis.
(And yes, I’m finally going to shoot a wedding again tomorrow after more than a month.)