Yesterday I ended up sitting on the floor of a Barnes and Noble flipping through photography books while my mother flipped through the sales at the Talbots next door. As a photographer I've always felt boring, conventional and predictable. I don't believe this acknowledgment is an entirely inaccurate representation of my skills; I've seen enough work from amateur photographers and art students to know that I am no where near the vicinity of their talents. Every Wednesday I'd pin my best photographs up for the weekly critiques in Beginning Photo and I'd get this gnawing insecurity that my best works were just going to pass as average or "cute."

Nevertheless. my enthusiasm and love for photography have not waned. The elements of luck and spontaneity intrigues me most about this medium. The beauty of perfect timing. And the added beauty of capturing that perfect moment. There is the technical and the editing side that I wish I could hone a little better, but hopefully that just takes more practice. I mean editing in terms of choosing the final print, not digital re-touching. I don't want to start using Photoshop just yet because it's a whole added dimension to the digital realm I'm not ready to enter.

There's a simplicity to black and white photography that's special to me. There's an honesty and an authenticity that I personally have a hard time expressing through color. The black and white world of photography is a world of imagination, a fantastical recreation of the life we perceive around us. Our world is not simply "black and white," our eyes can perceive a broad spectrum of different colors. However, a black and white photograph contains a subculture of colors; in the million different gradations of black and white a new realm of perspective opens up. Within this imaginary realm lies the truths, or lies of our perceived reality...a reality narrowed and focused and magnified for us to read.