On How I Became a Photographer

It was a very early summer morning in 1997, and I barreled towards Athens GA in my distinctly dented Chevy Blazer, having claimed barely an hour of sleep that same morning on a burrito-shaped cushion generously provided by my friend as her party waned. The hostess herself slept on the burrito next to me- we fell on it near 6 am as I mumbled about pre-college obligations in Athens the next morning. Much too soon the alarm buzzed, and I set out. The sun rose en route within perfect view of my driver's-side window. The scene was too amazing to ignore- an even barrier of illuminated clouds glowing above the sun as if they emanated from it. Half-way to my destination, I pulled onto the shoulder of the road, aimed my camera and clicked a few frames, then changed vantage points by climbing on the roof of the truck and squeezed the shutter for a few more captures. Admittedly, standing roof-top may have been for dramatic contribution to the moment as much for composition. I resumed the drive and anticipated getting this film back from the developer, though not with more excitement than for any other roll.

After taking a photography class during the next-to-last-ever semester of high school, I had fallen into the habit of carrying my camera around for the sake of documentation, mainly turning my lens on the many summer parties at my much-revered friend Melody's house. She was the fearless leader of our group, making her basement apartment the center of our universe that summer. It was there in black-and-white I photographed Lucas & Rich break-dancing, Josh spinning records, Ed sleeping on the couch that at some point everyone slept on, and Rebecca offering up the brightest, happiest, and most inviting of smiles. So when the sunrise-shot-from-roof-of-truck roll returned, I opened the package like any other while Melody looked on over my shoulder. I flipped the prints up one by one, but when I came to this image I felt a genuine jolt of surprise.


It was so beautiful, so photographic. I felt I created a work of art. Having taken the same high school course, Melody offered her enthusiastic agreement that the print was pretty fantastic. Without further ado I decided to major in Fine Art Photography. I imagined beatific years stretching ahead during which I would casually snap the shutter and create art after art after art. I photographed many sunrises subsequently, chasing the dragon, but none of those images moved me as this first one did. Three years of foundation classes later I was finally allowed to take the introductory photography course at UGA, and I found myself working for hours to make one perfect print in the darkroom. Oil painters with a little discipline were much faster as finishing an image than me. The imagined speed and casualness of creation stopped mattering, because by then photography was my creative necessity.