I am not a photographer. Earlier this year, I took great offense from the words of a villiage idiot who proclaimed there are no photographers left...just good automatic cameras. Criticism has always been this only child's worst enemy, and I took that insult to heart. As I allowed my inner child to puff up and pout like she had just lost her favorite Barbie, I realized the truth of the matter is this: I am not a photographer. I have not completed any course of study regarding my favorite art form. I have not completed any sort of degree in visual arts. I have never set foot in a photography classroom. I have taken some private lessons from professionals in Knoxville, but those were the equivalent to learning how to play chop sticks on the piano with more than one finger. Today, I'm admitting, I am not a photographer.
I am, however, one very grateful picture taker who was allowed and encouraged to improve her photography by her parents, teachers, and extended family from the first time I ever picked up a Kodak Disc camera. Remember those? Only fifteen shots per disc, and you had to make them count. That was the first camera I ever received, and I used it to win the award shown above. My 4H assignment was to tell a story with six photos, which I wish I still had but don't. I can remember assembling Alice, Becky, Leslie, and Lisa in the back yard with pom poms in hand. I photographed six steps to building a human pyramid and put the pictures on a poster board. Those six pictures (taken when I was eleven years old) have led me to my heart's happiest place today: looking at the world through my camera lens.
Is there an underlying issue to my love of all still images? Yes. Would a therapist have a field day with it? Of course. Let's just say that I lost all my family photos when I was in middle school, and that loss traumatized me. Most people consider family photos their prized possessions, and within just a few minutes, my lifetime of memories went up in flames while I watched frozen in fear. From that terrible experience, I vowed to photograph life's most simplistic and fantastic moments and never ever lose another image of my family; and I'd make sure others never suffered such a loss, too. I bounced back from one act of cruelty, and I transformed a nightmare into my happy place.
Growing up in Middlesboro, I had more than one professional photographer whose work inspired me to learn more about getting better and smarter with a camera. Mr. Jackson, owner of Jackson's Studio and Gifts, was the first person I ever knew who took pictures for a living. His gift shop and studio were next door to my dad's pawn shop, and I had a lot more fun hanging out at Jackson's than hanging out with a bunch of pocket knives and fishing poles. Mr. Jackson also had original Cabbage Patch dolls (cloth faces) in his store, and even though I never owned one, he allowed me to come over and babysit his adoptable babies. There's no doubt in my mind that I drove him and Joyce Skidmore nuts. I am so appreciative of their patience and kindness, but little did I know then what a huge impact their effort to amuse me would have on my life as an adult. If I behaved myself, made good grades, and didn't break anything, they'd let me take a few dolls back to the photography studio and pose them and pretend to make pictures of them. There was no film in the camera. Sometimes I got to use a flash, and those were super special days. I arranged those dolls like they were supposed to be models in JCPenney's Christmas Wish Book and photographed them for hours on end. Jackson's also sold collectible stickers and scrapbooks. New supplies came in weekly, and the stickers were a quarter each, which was a lot back then. When my day's work with photography was finished, I got a free sticker for my collection for being such a good employee. That is precisely how my life behind a camera began.
I paid attention to every possible exposure I encountered regarding professional photography when I was a child. I remember one particular bridal portrait that was displayed in Venable's for such a long time. It was a close up of a bride in a yard filled with beautiful flowers, and I never knew who the bride was. She had short blonde hair and glowed with happiness. I never knew who photographed her, but that is the first bridal portrait (other than my mother's) to ever leave me breathless. The frame around the portrait was carved thick wood covered in gold paint, and I looked at that photo like many people looked at art created by the masters in museums. The portrait wasn't a full shot...only from about the waist up...but she looked so beautiful and the pose was timeless. Timeless is something I've strived for in my own picture taking, and it's tough to achieve.
Pearle Sorah went to church with my mom and me. How appropriate that he, an x-ray tech, was also a photographer. He had a home studio and when I would visit with his wife's grandchildren, I often watched as he completed sessions with clients. I watched him like a hawk when he photographed weddings, too. He had a very nice studio with the best equipment, but he snapped a picture of his wife's daughter, Terri, at the airport during sunset one evening, and that stands out in my mind as yet another actual photograph that left me breathless. Terri had beautiful long brown curly hair, beautiful skin, and she was wearing the coolest sunglasses ever. She was leaned up beside an airplane, and everything was just perfect once the shutter was fired. Slowly, I started to realize that I could make beautiful pictures outside instead of staying inside a studio. I wanted my pictures to be timeless and leave people breathless.
During high school, I made numerous futile and failed attempts to tan my skin at a local beauty shop in Middlesboro so I would be less prone to glow in the dark. That beauty shop had "walls of fame," which displayed photos taken by Benny Collins. If your portrait was hanging on the wall in that particular shop, it was the equivalent to a local celebrity's star on a walk of fame. HA! This was the first time I ever remember paying attention to the difference in color and black and white photography with my preference being toward black and white. Benny was the first photographer I ever knew to introduce special effects into photography, too. He was a master of double exposure, gel highlighting, and unique backdrops. It took great restraint for me to not stalk him because he just lived around the corner from Mom and me. I managed to resist the temptation to beg him for wisdom regarding his craft and just took notes from his work as I saw it. To this day, my favorite Benny Collins photograph is of a bride's shoe. Yep. Cinderella's shoe might have been as beautiful, but I doubt it. It was the most unique bridal photo I had ever seen, and that's when my definition of timeless began to broaden.
After I learned to appreciate the work of Mr. Jackson, Pearle Sorah, and Benny...I saw the work of Paula (Hayes) Melton, and from that day forward, everything about the way I worked a camera changed. She had photographed a friend of mine, and it looked as though the girl's gorgeous face was reflected in a pool when there was no drop of water to be found. Again, I was left breathless. That photo will forever stand in my mind as the most beautiful image I have ever seen. The color was so sharp. The skin looked like Grace Kelly. Eyes were as deep as the water appeared to be. There were no shadows. The light absorbed in the skin instead of reflecting from it. Every single component of that shot was absolutely perfect. Before our world went digital, the only way I had to see Paula's work was to actually get my hands on pictures she had shot. I hunted for them like water in a desert. If she photographed a wedding, I tried to go to watch her...not the bride. When she photographed children, I studied the proofs like I was preparing for a final exam. She didn't have to advertise. All she had to do was consistently produce what I consider to be the most beautiful photography I've ever seen. Period. I finally worked my nerve up to ask her to photograph me, and she made me feel like I was pretty. I was as awkward as a fish on sand, but she brought a calming yet encouraging spirit with her work. By the time we were finished, I was ready to be on the cover of Vogue. I learned in that single session the importance of making every subject feel beautiful, handsome, and appreciated. Paula's heart is evident in every single image she has ever photographed; all I've ever wanted was to be that good. It's a goal I take baby steps toward with every session. I could write for days and still never convey to you what a standard her work sets for my photography.
Those local influences are precisely the people who have helped me get to this point in my photography. From the time I was old enough to understand the sentimental value of a picture, I was fortunate to know people who were professionals and could teach me great lessons by the example they set with their work. I was inspired by photographers who had to choose ISO, use light meters, navigate through dark rooms, and rely upon their precision instead of technology to produce timeless images. Having that appreciation of photography long before Photoshop was involved is one of my life's greatest gifts.
As always, I'm grateful to my parents for always inspiring my love of photography. They picked up on my genuine love of a camera without question and allowed me to expand my experiences in order to avoid killing their young. HA! I know I made them crazy. I know the money my mom spent on developing my film would have probably been enough to pay my entire college tuition and then some. For those of you parents who make great sacrifices to encourage what your child loves to do, let this story remind you that your children will be grateful for your support.
Maybe some day I will be a professional photographer, but for the time being, I'm just going to continue taking pictures of happy people and trying to improve with every click of the shutter. I am a proud 4H photography champion, and that's all the fame my ego can handle.
