Crop

The question is simple, direct and impacting—the kind that makes me wonder why I’ve never pondered it. The unexpected question popped up in a small group setting and totally out of context of any of the other discussions. Although I am far from their situation, I suppose this is how pageant participants spotlighted before an audience must feel when confronted with that specially prepared “bomb” of a question. My mind races for a concise answer (and escape) as all ears tune expectantly for my answer.







The question: “Why do you take pictures?” My answer, now forgotten, is one that I hope will get me safely back on the sidelines and out of “the line of fire.” However, the question lingers in my mind.






I am inaccurately, in my mind at least, accused of being a photographer. I have the privilege of knowing some photographers and know that I don’t fit that definition even though I often sport a camera. To me, the difference is like comparing a Sunday afternoon driver to Mario Andretti. I usually get where I am going but lack the training and expertise to do it expertly with confident professional precision and skill.






I am by my own definition “a picture taker.” I have tens of thousands of pictures on my computer to prove it. I have lost more pictures with a simple but painful computer hard drive crash than most folks take in a life time. Others only see a small fraction of what I take but if my camera(s) were cars with odometers I would be destined to “turn it over.” (For you younger folks with digital odometers, that’s a term used with old mechanical odometers maxing out and starting over from zero.)


Aside from a few shots capturing the stunning beauty of the Grand Canyon, a majestic ocean sunset, or Niagara Falls, ninety-nine percent of my pictures are of people. Not the common, stiff, posed shots that more orderly folks favor. (I think of those shots as today’s version of the past century’s old antique tin plate shots.) I do take those obligatory posed shot for folks when they demand it but also sneak in some extras of the folks as “they really are.” They’re the ones I treasure.


God has given me a “love for people” that has grown to addictive proportions. I just like ‘em—all kinds: good and bad, felons and addicts, challenged or not, along with folks with no visible problems. I am intrigued by all humanity. I see “beauty” in people that they often don’t see in themselves. It is not lipstick and six-pack abs, but based more on the look I see deep in their eyes. Those looks seem to reflect the deep inner person and especially their heart and that’s what I am anxious to discover. I relish hearing the phrase “I really do look good” when I show folks their pictures. More importantly, they seem to understand that I look for and have spotted something special in them.






Even though I have a 12 power optical zoom buried in my small pocket point and shoot camera, I seldom capture the perfect shot I envision. Something always seems to spoil the picture. Most people would delete most of my raw pictures. My secret is computer-based software editing. Nothing sophisticated like Photoshop (which I own but have yet to master), just simple free downloadable software like Picasa. With a few clicks I can see a background gem and salvage something out of a messed up picture. (A confession: I have, on occasion, stretched a picture to make some—mostly female—folks appear taller and lest robust!) I can do simple light enhancements and automatically fix things like contrast. However, my most utilized function is the “crop” function. If I find something redeeming (and I usually do) in a “bad” picture, I cut out the “good” and create a new picture with that good part. The “bad” parts that draw many people’s eye to the flaws are left behind with no remaining distractions. Some would consider that cheating, but I see it as selective focus and one that has been invaluable for my life’s outlook. I still hope for Utopia, but I am learning to crop a good picture out of many messed up scenes. It’s kind of fun and helps me see things that others appear to miss, especially in the world’s humanity that I‘ve grown to love. I highly recommend cropping.