Weeks ago, my college classmate introduced me to his colleague that I am a photographer from Toronto.

I paused.

Not because the question was difficult, but because I wasn’t sure if I deserved the title.

two types

I’ve been thinking about two kinds of people who hold a camera.

One I call the photograbber - someone who grabs whatever appears in front of eye.

Fast hands, quick shutter, zero thought.

Shoot first, leave it untouched, and never think.

And then, there is the photographer - someone who observes before raising the camera, and reflects after lowering it.

Someone who cares about light, form, timing, relationship, geometry, aesthetic, and meaning.

Someone who believes a picture isn’t taken, but made.

I don’t take pictures, pictures take me. — Charles Harbutt

I used to be the first kind.

Maybe I still am, on a moment when I really hope to capture that moment, because what’s gone is gone.

that moment

On a moment when I forget about enjoying in the moment but hurry to get the result.

I want to quote a line, though I forgot who said it. I will paraphrase:

Sometimes you don’t have to press the shutter - just let the moment stay as it is. That’s the beauty of it.

For years, I snapped everything with my phone, thinking more to record than to just “being there”.

Until I own a real camera, and take more time digging into the art of photography, I realize photography is not to collect moments, but to feel.

When I can’t capture the moment, I convince myself to let it go.

At least I was there, enjoying the moment.

make it hard

Smartphones are so smart, making the snapshots so convenient.

But I don’t like “convenience", because convenience always costs something.

You trade your part of yourself - your time, your attention - for it.

Or, you trade someone else’s time and risk - like a delivery driver’s long hours and busy roads - to get your food.

Maybe I’m going too far with this idea, but I think you understand what I mean.

I try best to make things hard, torture my mind, to understand and learn better.

I start to learn film photography, scan negatives on my own equipment, read Magnum photo archives, and shoot!

I start to walk slowly, spending more time seeing than shooting what Cartier-Bresson called it - shooting like a machine gun.

In the interview with Yves Bourde in 1974, Cartier-Bresson said:

To go fast, you have to proceed very slowly. You have to observe, and look at how things are happening, understand and feel them, otherwise you run the risk of falling into sham, and of shuttering.

I was grabbing photos with my heart absent, my eye half-awake.

Before consider whether I can become a capable photographer, I want to practice seeing, feeling, and respecting first.

That’s what matters to me.