Hi, I’m Scott, and I’m a Photoholic.
Every day, my head feels like it’s on a swivel – twisting and
turning – looking at our world a little bit differently than most people. I see
my surroundings as a gigantic canvas, and I’m picking pictures out of it. I
often joke that the only function of the left side of my brain, is to hold the
right side in place, and it certainly feels like it. I’m no mathematician by
any sense of the term, but I easily find, so perfectly coined by fellow
photographer, Dewitt Jones, as “seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary.”
I usually soothe this addiction by carrying a camera with me,
grabbing images as I see them. There are instances when something magical happens,
and my camera isn’t there, and I become upset with myself for not carrying a camera
with me. My wife will be the first to tell you about the “signs” – my hands
grip the steering wheel of the truck to the point my knuckles turn white. I
begin to mutter things like, “Oh gosh, that sky will look tremendous in five
minutes” or “darn it, darn it, darn it,” or the ever-popular “AAACCCCKKK!!!”
And God forbid I have a camera with me, and either the
battery is dead or I forgot to out the memory card back in – I have a tough
time dealing with my own stupidity. Some of it comes from my “I’m a pro, and I
should know better” mentality. When this happens among friends, they can’t help
but laugh at me: the photographer that has the patience and persistence to go
back to the same location night after night to get the right sunset, but
internally becomes a raging 12-year-old brat when he can’t take a picture.
I’m trying to get better. Really I am. While there’s no
12-step program (that I know of at least) for Photoholism, I’ve got a routine
that works pretty well: Close my eyes and do some deep breathing until either
the scene changes, or the light fades – Just don’t do that while driving, or
there might be an impromptu air bag test.
My mother (bless her) tells me to keep what I’ve seen in my
mind and heart, that there’ll be another one like it soon enough. Her words are
semi-comforting, as I know that no two sunsets are alike, and I’m anal enough
to want the one that’s unfolded before me, because it was SO DARN COOL!
Alas, I know that I can’t capture everything, just like I can’t
have everything (I’ve been asking Santa for a 1972 Lamborghini Miura SV since I
was seven-years-old, and I still don’t have one). But as long as I can remember
it from my mental camera, that’ll have to work… until someone figures out how
to implant a Canon 5D MARK III with a 16-35mm f/2.8 lens in my forehead.
