There are quotes for just about everything, of course there are quotes about life, love, happiness but there are also quotes about the things we love to do; running, fast walking, art, writing, you name the topic, I bet there is a quote for that.
Sometimes reading quotes make us feel better about ourselves, especially if we allow these quotes to be embedded in our hearts, mind, and soul. Listed below are some photography quotes, I’ve blogged about quotes before but there could never be enough quotes to let us know that we are not alone in the struggle of self doubt or trying to build up our self confidence or self esteem.
1. “There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.”
― Ansel Adams
2. “Life is your art. An open, aware heart is your camera. A oneness with your world is your film. Your bright eyes and easy smile is your museum.”
― Ansel Adams
3. “A great photograph is a full expression of what one feels about what is being photographed in the deepest sense and is thereby a true expression of what one feels about life in its entirety.”
― Ansel Adams
4. “The whole world is, to me, very much “alive” – all the little growing things, even the rocks. I can’t look at a swell bit of grass and earth, for instance, without feeling the essential life – the things going on – within them. The same goes for a mountain, or a bit of the ocean, or a magnificent piece of old wood.”
― Ansel Adams
5. “Life is a journey, photography is thy shepherd.”
― Destin Sparks
6. “Photography is the story I fail to put into words.”
― Destin Sparks
7. “Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourself
and let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story.
Let your very identity be your book.
Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.”
— Charlotte Erikkson
8. “The eye traffics in feelings, not in thoughts.”
— Walker Evans
9. “Whether he is an artist or not, the photographer is a joyous sensualist, for the simple reason that the eye traffics in feelings, not in thoughts.”
― Walker Evans
10. “When you photograph people in color, you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in Black and white, you photograph their souls!”
― Ted Grant
11. “A good snapshot keeps a moment from running away.”
― Eudora Welty
12. “Not everybody trusts paintings but people believe photographs.”
13. The cliche comes not in what you shoot but in how you shoot it.”
― David duChemin
And last quote on photography
“A truly good photograph tells a story. It should connect to the reader. That’s all there is to it really. Things like composition, focus, color, lighting and subject matter are all in a sense just fashionable. But the photos that tell stories are timeless.”
― Leslie Dean Brown
“Drat!” I said out loud as I spotted darkened clouds hoovering over downtown and these clouds are getting darker and darker as if God was taking his black crayons to the clouds because they weren’t dark enough. I knew I had to look for refuge, I knew I needed to chose wisely, a place I won’t mind staying for a while because I have a feeling this storm was going to be a long and nasty one. But I did not have time to be choosy because the sky opened up with what seemed like two gallon buckets of water being thrown unto the city so I ran into the closest store. I opened the door, totally drenched as if someone threw me into the ocean. I watched as people ran by searching for a fortress. I don’t know why but I held the door shut as if I owned this store but for some reason nobody paid any mind to this store.
I turned around and knew the reason why. It was a vintage shop, an antique shop, or what many people may say a junk shop. Being that I’m into “vintage” I thought I made a great choice. Everything “vintage” clothes, jewelry, books, records…records I use to love sitting on the floor of my bedroom playing records, albums on that old record player of mine, I started to walk around the store, it was not huge, it was not small, it was just the right size for this particular store.
I was having a good time viewing the classic items, admiring the style of clothes that dates back back from the 50’s thru the 70’s, wanting the antique furniture, I sat down trying out the Victorian style chair when I saw the owner of the store, it was then when I started to question my choice.
He was very tall, dressed in a tuxedo and top hat. He had long salt and pepper hair, the hair seemed to be in very good condition, it wasn’t ragged, no split ends. He wore white foundation, black eye liner, his fingernails were also painted black. He reminded me of Lurch the character from the Adam’s family, I was waiting for a deep voice to speak.
“Good Evening” His voice was deep, but not creepy.
“Oh you surprised me…scared me actually, Good Evening.”
“Wonderful weather this evening”
I turned around to look out the window, still no one busting down the door to get inside, it was very dark as if it was already midnight and down pouring.
“Yes, I guess”
He laughed. “I was being facetious” “Life is more enjoyable when you look for the brighter side of things.”
I smiled and nodded. “Oh yes, I see.”
“It looks as if this storm will be visiting us for a while, would you like some tea or coffee to warm up?”
He went back to what was probably his office and returned with a very beautiful tea set. The entire tea set was jade with white and gold embroidered leaves. He walked over to where I was sitting and sat the tea set on the antique coffee table.
He smiled at me. “What made you come into this store?” “I don’t get many visitors, as you can see.”
“You don’t make money from this?”
“I did not say that” “I just said I don’t get many visitors” “They view this shop as eccentric and me as….well eclectic.”
The kettle began to whistle, he ventured back to his office. He came out with this equally beautiful kettle and a heavy woven cloth. This kettle seemed it was pure brass.
“You have beautiful items here, that kettle is gorgeous.”
“Thank you…the kettle and tea set is not for sale” He looked at me, smiled and gave a slight wink.
He puts the cloth on the table then set the kettle on top of the cloth, he then sits in the other vintage sets the chair. I watch him as picks up his tea cup and takes a sip. His movements were so proper, so eloquent. I wondered about him.
“So where are you from, what’s your….angle?”
“What is it that you really want to know?”
“You’re so proper, I……”
“I took care of people.”
“Oh….bless your heart.” “You were a butler”
“What made you think that?”
“Well you’re so proper, polite, I just figured you were a butler, you said you took care of people.”
He laughed. “I think you misunderstood when I said, I took care of people, that isn’t what I really meant.”
He smiled. I looked at him, I was puzzled and amazed, his makeup was perfect, better than I had ever done when applying my makeup.
“I was sent on assignments and took care of business.”
“I’m still clueless”
“I was what people called a hit-man.”
Oh boy what did I do, I shouldn’t drink this tea, this was a mistake, how the Hell do I get out of here….Oh boy.
He looked at me, reached over, patted my hand and smiled. “No worries, I don’t do that anymore, I made quite a bit on money, I’m comfortable, happy, enjoying life, I now have a different outlook on life.” He smiled again. Even his teeth are perfectly white and straight.
I looked at the tea.
“To poison you would be poisoning me, I have no reason to poison me and I don’t know you, we’re strangers.”
It was as if he read my mind or maybe it was my actions.
I still had questions inside my mind. I didn’t know what to think.
“You don’t have to drink” “I love tea, I drink enough for the both of us.” He smiles at me again.
“Why the white makeup?”
“Oh….I had a mishap with one of my assignments, sometimes life leave you little reminders of your past transgressions just so that you don’t forget and…transgress again.”
“One of my jobs…back fired…so to speak” He pours himself another cup of tea, takes a sip, and smiles at me, again.
I took the teacup, smelled the tea, as if I would be able to tell if there was anything in the tea. I took a sip.
I just pray I’m able to awake the next morning.
“How’s the tea?”
“It’s good.” “Is it Jasmine?”
“Yes it is, you know your teas.”
“So why the shop?” Questioning my actions I sipped some more tea.
“It gives me something to do with my time so the urge won’t come back.” He smiles again. He looked outside.
“Looks like the storm has decided to visit someplace else, it’s no longer down pouring, you welcome to leave.”
I looked outside, the rain had lightened a bit.
Maybe he not as bad, a little weird, maybe, but not as bad, not like some of my superficial friends, maybe he’s a little lonely, considering his past life.
“I think I stay for a while, finish this tea.”
He smiled. “Thank you.” “I don’t have many friends.”
We smiled at each other and continued drinking Jasmine tea.
It was sunny when you left home, so you didn’t take an umbrella. An hour later, you’re caught in a torrential downpour. You run into the first store you can find — it happens to be a dark, slightly shabby antique store, full of old artifacts, books, and dust. The shop’s ancient proprietor walks out of the back room to greet you. Tell us what happens next!
Your soft whiskers tickled my nose
as I’m awaken from a dream
that I can’ remember
maybe I don’t remember
you nestle your head against my cheek
I feel you are happy to see me…be with me
you begin to pat my face to make sure I’m fully awake
I begin to smile
you jump from my chest
it was then I realize
all you want is to be fed.
She thought she was slick. She somehow managed to hide it among the stack of books we were giving away to Goodwill. She was so glad to find an organization that accepted used/slightly used books, we had so many books, how did this collection become so massive, it was as if our small house was a library. Despite the many boxes of books, our collection was still quite abundant.
The guy came to pick up the donation, he decided to go through the pile, he thought he claim a few before bringing the books to the site. As he was combing through he managed to find it, nestled somewhere in the middle, making it hard to find, my mother’s yearbook. “I don’t think you mean to get rid of this,” he said. I looked at him then at my mother who just shied away. He gave me the yearbook. “I’m sure it was a mistake, we were just gathering a lot of books we no longer read or needed.” I eyed my mother as she was avoiding eye contact. The guy gather the donations, his selections, and made his way to his continue his delivery assignments.
“You tried to give away your yearbook?”
“It was mistakenly put into that pile.” She walked away, but I knew better.
After I graduated from middle school, I understood the reason she wanted to get “rid” of her middle school yearbook. I’m sure she hated middle school just as much as I did. I was bullied in elementary school and foolishly thought it would get better once I graduated to middle school, it did not, it got worse. My middle school years were the worse, I was bullied everyday, I dreaded school, I could not wait for the day to be over and it seemed like the days just became longer and longer, I was so glad to get home, but I knew this moment of “happiness” was short-lived because the next morning, it was starting again, the bullying.
Year after year did not get better, it seemed that the years got worse, but I have to admit the third year of middle school was not quite as bad, but nevertheless, I probably was the only person (maybe not) that was looking forward to high school. Even though I hated my middle school my mother “made” me purchase a yearbook. “Why should we spend money on a year book on a school I really hated, so that I could be cursed for the rest of my life?” “No for the memories, you had some good memories of middle school, didn’t you?” I did not understand my mother, she held on to her year books as if they were cherished memories but she treated “them” as if they were curses. In many ways I’m sure they were (as they probably were for many people) I wonder how many times she wanted to burn those books as I tried to burn my middle school year book and almost burned down the house.
My mother and I moved a few times in our life time carrying the curses with us, now that my mother have passed I have her curses and mine too. Maybe I will be invited to a bonfire one day and I will carry a few presents for the fire.
This post is in response to the first week assignment of Writing 201 finding your angle. That element that makes your story unique, different, fresh. I’m not sure if I successfully succeeded with this assignment, but the writing process is a learning game and I’m sure I need more practice, more tweaking.
1. They give love unconditionally.
2. They don’t judge (if they like you, they like you for life, if they don’t like you, you will know).
3. All they want is a little loving, attention and food.
4. They make good company.
5. They are very expressive (especially kittens and puppies) how can you be mad at those faces?
6. It doesn’t take much to please them (as long as there’s plenty of food and toys, maybe).
7. They don’t complain (unless there’s not enough food).
8. They just soooooo cute at any age.
9. They know when you are feeling bad and they will comfort you.
10. Once you befriend them, they are friends for life, no matter what (especially if you have enough food).