Flirting with photography

I am.

Even though I have been reluctant to admit its merit as a form of art. I thought it is the creative past time of the lazy, the button pushers. I have met people like Dobos Tamas and therefore I have changed my mind.

Even though when I have changed my mind I also realised just how technical it was. In the past turning the lens to get a sharper image seemed a bit intimidating, let alone the mechanical alchemy of measuring light. And the post production phase. The atmosphere of a studio. That intense and out of the ordinary encounter between two people on either side of the camera.

About a year ago it really started fascinating me, I wanted to observe the process as eagerly as I wanted to watch basketball when I was 12, or theatre when I was 14 (and ever since) And I had some opportunities.

Yet at this point in my life I believe I am fully aware of the list of my sternghts and with visual arts it is much more voyeurism and critique than an active love affair.

I think I am a good second eye, even a great one, with exquisite taste, I can form and express detailed oppinion about why I like something, and my taste is stubborn and individual. So I am the right person to give feedback, challenge a concept or choose wallpaper and the likes.

But I never thought that images should be the medium of my message. Partly because this is not how my brain works, perhaps because my life has been wrapped up in words from the start, partly because I am a bit rubbish.

So the attitude is wrong: images, visual art for me is always the means and not the ends. It is there to inspire, to instantly give, to narrate, or reflect, to illustrate: it is a precious role, but only a supporting act.

And the skill set is wrong: I am slightly technophobe, and I take crap pictures.

Is life to short for detours? Should I not bother just because I know I am not predestined to be the next Brassai?

Life needs to have a rich texture.

I am flirting with photography.