Meetings

Does taking pictures make you a photographer? Does putting words on paper make you a writer? I often wonder when a hobby has been loved enough to confer a title. How many shots do I need to take and stories do I need to tell to earn the name saying what I do?

These questions reveal a flawed assumption: a vocation has to be merited. They misunderstand the gift and the grace that comes from simply doing and loving. If I take pictures simply because I enjoy it, the artform won’t withhold the name “photographer”.

But imposter syndrome can get in the way. I’ve been a writer longer than a photographer. I began putting pen to paper when I was a kid. I didn’t pick up a camera until I was 30. Sometimes on vacations I would take pictures I really like. There was even a moment in London in 2018 where I dared to ask if I could get into photography. “I’m already a writer,” I told myself. “I can’t be both.”

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Covid shifted a lot of paradigms. I stopped working in an office. I couldn’t meet up with large groups. I had to wear a mask. I was stuck at home. One change, however, disrupted an unhealthy mindset: I had time to pick up a camera.

I was living on Capitol Hill in  Washington, D.C. when the pandemic hit. My wash-rinse-repeat cycle of video games, Netflix, and Zoom calls got very boring very fast. So I picked up a camera and a bike and started taking rides out to the National Mall most nights. I would photograph the monuments, the trees, interesting buildings, anything to stave off the boredom. When I was out doing that, I wasn’t ruminating on whether I was a photographer or not. I was simply shooting, and I fell in love with it. I no longer had to convince myself that I wasn’t a photographer.

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For several years I was photographer. And I was a writer. But the two stayed in their own spaces. Sometimes I would wax poetic on an Instagram post, but that was the most interplay I’d see. My photos were for Instagram. My poems and stories were for publication.

But when I started an IG page for my poetry, my two interests began to eye each other nervously. At first, I would post my poems on simple solid color squares. But most people scrolling through a feed don’t want to stop to read text on a neutral backdrop. They want something that makes them stop.

So I began using my photos as the background for my poems. The two can work together remarkably well. I’ve been shooting for four years now, so I have a sizable photo library to pull from. In keeping with that trend, I am solely using my own photographs for this website. Every image you see was shot by me at some point.  

Photography and writing aren’t always the best of friends. They like their solo time with me. But when they do meet up, beautiful things happen.

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Image

I saw a photo—

light snared in lens

and caged in pixels—

a face I knew years

ago.

It was the face of a friend—

a smile tangled in film,

laughter jailed by spool—

who’s living look time

blurred.

But because of that picture—

memory and racing light

stilled to static frame—

I, bounding like photons, stand

still

and look

at an image—

day distilled to eternity

and sight saved for tomorrow—

concentrating a joy only

felt.

I accidentally lied. These three photos were taken by my friend Brandon. But otherwise, all the pictures on here are mine.