Why I Started Taking Pictures

I have the inherent desire to capture moments and memories. I value memorable experiences over physical items. I am more content to pay $2000 for a trip across Europe than a few months rent in an apartment. That’s just me.

For the longest time, I sucked at remembering these great times I had because I didn’t take any pictures. I was at the mercy of someone else’s camera and my own (poor) photographic memory.

One of my earliest shots. Nothing special, but I liked it. – City Park in New Orleans

The only thing I had to rely on was my journal.

I try to journal every night before I go to sleep. It’s a practice I have maintained for the last three or four years. I have lost consistency at points in between, but the ritual lives on. I generally recap the events of the day. Some days I focus in on the emotional side of one or two things. It can be an introspective experience.

If you don’t journal right now, I suggest you make it a habit immediately. It is fascinating to look back on the things you have done and felt.

This fascination with looking back allowed me to see value in all the moments of my life and sparked an interest in photography for me.

The other spark, the one that ultimately led to me biting the bullet and dropping some money on a Nikon D3300 kit, was my future career. No, I was not planning to be a photographer. I wanted the option of being a freelance writer.

The problem with being a freelance writer is that it requires a lot more than just writing. You are expected to snap your own pictures, build your own sources, edit and produce everything from top to bottom. This meant that I needed to start learning some new skills.

When I first got my camera, I could not stop taking pictures. I took it everywhere I went. I started viewing my surroundings in completely different ways like, “Oh this would be a great shot!” or “if I can just tweak the blues in this…” or “wow that person has a great smile”.

My favorite picture of all time. This one is currently back desktop background. – Oak St. in Uptown New Orleans

I took pictures of all kinds of junk. Sometimes I took pictures of literal junk. A lot of times my pictures came out looking like junk. Thankfully, I had Nathan around to offer advice on how to improve my skills.

Seriously, the guy knows what he is doing and his passion for photography is through the roof.

Sadly, that initial fire to photograph everything around me has settled down to embers, but the potential is still there. I’m going to New York for five days and then backpacking through Europe for two weeks this summer. I guarantee that good photo opportunities will be capitalized on. There is no chance I’m letting those moments go uncaptured and you shouldn’t let yours go uncaptured either.

Beignets from Morning Call at City Park.

Shelter No. 1 on Lakeshore Drive in New Orleans

Mardi Gras Indian painting by my friend Stan L’Hoste

The Fly Don’t Bother Me

A couple of weeks ago, I went to The Fly. It’s a park that sits on part of the crescent portion of the Mississippi River as it cradles Uptown New Orleans. I have been to The Fly a handful of times. A couple of times to play soccer in high school, once to play soccer with two friends on a cold, wet day, once for a birthday picnic, and most recently for a romantic sunset picnic date. Rumor has it, The Fly got its name because it is shaped like a fly when you look at it from above. I try to sneak a peek at it every time I’m in an airplane. Now that I think of it, I’ll check Google Earth and see if it’s true… Okay, turns out it’s a myth. It looks more like a human liver than a Fly. The origin of its name shall continue to be shrouded in mystery.

A Kenzie in her natural habitat.

While I was there, I was far less interested in what the place looked like from a bird’s eye view and far more interested in everything else around me.  McKenzie, my girlfriend, got me a sandwich from Whole Foods that sang the most beautiful taste bud ballad: roast beef on focaccia with goat cheese spread, chipotle mayo, and sun-dried tomatoes. All good things must come to an end though, and before I knew it, the sandwich was gone. All that was left for me to do was sprawl out on the blanket in the grass and contemplate the mysteries of the universe while the brick of food that was protruding from my gut digested.

Spotted!

I did that for about 47 seconds and figured out all I needed to about the universe (could there actually be a multiverse with an infinite number of universes???) and decided to start snapping some shots with my Nikon D3300. It had been about three months since I actually took any pictures. Kind of embarrassing for me. Probably a travesty to you photo-fiends. I used the standard AF-5 NIKKOR 18-55mm lens. Remember, I’m an amateur guys. Also, I’m in college. My girlfriend buys my food half the time. I say it’s for gender equality. In reality it’s for checking account inequality. I can’t afford or justify buying a fancy schmancy lens.

There were a ridiculous amount of people at the park that evening. In New Orleans, when there’s that many people in one place, it is safe to assume there is either a music festival or a crawfish boil (or a combination of the two) taking place somewhere nearby. Not in this case. It was all the Tulane kids soaking in the first Spring-y feeling evening of the year. Plus, midterms had just ended and the cool crowd had to get their smoke and frisbee on.

Despite the crowd, there wasn’t a ton of commotion. I think people were just happy to be there. I would argue it was the most beautiful day of the year up to that point, but then again, I’m not usually the one that watches sunsets teary-eyed on a regular basis. Who knows the amount of emotion I have been missing out on!

It was one of those times I was really glad I brought my camera but the pictures I took just don’t do the grandeur of the imagery any justice. I tried my best. I don’t know much about cameras, but I poked some buttons and spun some wheels, and took a few pictures.

Have you ever just seen a color and it was so beautiful it made you want to fall right on your butt? The river was that kind of blue, fall-on-your-butt blue. My photography skills aren’t good enough to capture that color just yet, but I’ve got the still frames in my mind. One day I’ll develop them, but for now I’ll just keep them stored in my memory.

-ZL

 

Welcome to The Ether Place, Zach

Editor’s Note: I just wanted there to be no confusion. Even though the title may hint that I wrote this post, Zach has written this himself and I do not claim any of it! Please enjoy Zach and his unique personality and welcome him as an author for The Ether Place.

Perfect timing that Nathan is beginning to write for The Odyssey, considering I am embarking on an Odyssey of my own with graduation racing towards me and an unclear future ahead of me. Did Odysseus know Nostradamus? I could use a clairvoyant right about now.

My name is Zach, and Nathan asked me to write some posts for The Ether Place. I’m a poor photographer. I use that adjective to describe my skills as a photographer, but in a way it also is prophetic to what my economic status would be if I took pictures for a living. The good news is that I am a fairly decent writer. I don’t like to toot my own horn, but… toot.

I just think it makes sense for me to start writing for an audience considering I just spent the last four years of my life studying the English language and writing in it. You get so used to writing on topics you care nothing about that you forget that you might have something to say. I am not an expert on anything (though I might argue that I know a lot more about football than you do), but there is one thing I know more about than anyone else on earth: myself. Any suggestions or opinions I might bring up later on are less reflective of reality and more reflective of who I am and what I believe, and like most other people, I want other people to believe the same thing I believe.

I didn’t always know that I was a good writer, but I never considered myself a bad writer. I also never considered myself an artist. I don’t usually think of prose writing as art. Writing in art is poetry in my mind and I am not vain, meta, or interested enough to try and write poetry. Journaling is more my thing. My thoughts matter to me and your thoughts should matter to you. See, there’s one of those suggestions I was talking about.

I care about a handful of things: my faith, my friends, my family, and experience. Football deserves an honorable mention. Frequently my life is some combination of those. Not always great combinations, but more often than not, I feel quite satisfied with those things. I won’t keep you much longer, and I apologize for keeping you this long, but I look forward to sharing things with you, you mysterious world of anonymous internet blog readers. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!