I have returned from gold country, where, like Perth, it is autumn. With recent rain, cold mornings and warm days, the boughs, some six feet long, hung heavy with gum blossoms. On some trees there was promise. Delicate gum nuts swayed gently in the breeze. On others, they were tightly knotted knuckles on slender branches. They will be magnificent in bloom.
With a full schedule on both days, escaping to the arboretum in my lunch break was a relief. When I took some pictures, I knew I had captured something but could not see it in the moment. I felt a ping in me. A hit of dopamine. It made me click a few more, just in case I messed up the first one. Soon, there was a visceral response of satiation and I moved to the challenge of photographing the elusive honeyeaters. During these sojourns I have found I need to set my alarm to get back to the office. Otherwise, I zone out in pleasure mode.
About two years ago while talking about photography, the taxi driver, in his distinctive Eastern European accent asked me if my photography was a hobby or addiction. It was a moment of clarity. Plain and simple, photography is my addiction. I get a buzz when I know I have taken the picture I have been looking for. It is the single most important release I seek every single day.
People write, paint, take photographs and then share them. There is an undeniable agenda behind the concept of sharing in this way. Some share for sheer pleasure and at other times there is a sly capricious quality to this. For me, blogging satisfies something deep within me. I wake to a kernel of something that is waiting for fruition. I enjoy the write and the opportunity to share my photographs with others. I have no idea who my audience is. I like it that way. If people like what they see and return, then I have accomplished something more than personal satisfaction.
As John Harrigan said, “Happiness is the seed held, happiness shared is the flower”.
Until next time …
a dawn bird