When thinking about what to write for this post, I had a look back through some recent images. The ones I actually like, rather than the ones I felt I ought to like. And, somewhat unexpectedly, there were quite a lot of reflections.

Which felt interesting, mainly because I have been spending a fair amount of time lately wondering what I actually enjoy photographing. It is easy to assume that photography is about capturing what is already there. But the more time I spend with a camera, the less convinced I am by that. Instead I feel it is more like a process of deciding what matters, even if only for a moment.

I have also, somewhat unexpectedly, been reading about existentialism (as one does, just before spring properly gets going). The idea that meaning is not something we find, but something we make through our choices, has been rattling around in the background. It does seem to fit, at least in part, with photography. Every time I lift the camera there is a small decision being made. What gets included carries a bit of weight. What gets left out quietly disappears.

Spending more time on Instagram has made the contrast clearer. The dramatic light. The familiar compositions. The kinds of images that are immediately recognisable, and often very good. There is a comfort in them. But they are not always the ones that hold my attention for very long.

I have also been reading Carl Rogers, an American psychologist, on authenticity. His whole thing about staying close to your own experience, rather than performing for an audience. When I manage that, even briefly, certain patterns start to show up.

Reflections. Glass. Looking through things, or at them.

Perhaps that is what authenticity in certainly my own photography comes down to. Not a particular style, or subject, but a willingness to follow my attention. For now, at least, this is where I’ve ended up.

kirstin