The Escape: Part One.

Being able to catch rare moments on camera is positively a unique feeling. There are times where giddiness succumbs me and child like feelings tantalize my senses for a brief period. I somehow know instantly (whether from formal education of line form and content or pure instinctive feeling) when I have captured that "moment". I have caught a window in to my life that is now still. A record of history.

Present moment. That's all there really is! Once you have experienced your notable moments, with in Milli-second they are gone. A photograph for me becomes that something to grasp, a tangible visual that holds true to what i was trying to capture, but better. It gives my moment that I had some feelings of emotion. that last longer. And like a file cabinet, I might be able to draw from this moment again , and again. Does this hold true for every photograph that I take? I can only wish that it was so. Most of photography for me is trial and error, staring at things with squinted eyes, messing with aperture and shutter speed and thinking of the perfect composition. A process. A process that I will never get sick of until I self destruct.

My image is now a collection, something to be collected. A piece of history. And there is something special about is this whole making of history business and i don't think that there is one right answer. But just as a kid knows from his inherited and taught instincts, everyone can feel the good and the bad, "evil" doers and "Heaven" sent people. I feel that thoughts passes through the same neuron that we call life. The pictures that stick with you are the ones that form memories, create physical pain, changes your rate of blood pumping, scars arteries, creates involuntary muscle movements and thoughts of smell.