It’s been a while since I wrote. Classes started and between classes, work, my social life and Gorilla gluing furniture, I’ve been quite a busy bee. I’m taking two classes this summer: Photo Basics for Art Majors (not an art major, but I wiggled my way into the class) and French 2. The photo class is incredible and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed toting around my Canon Rebel T1i and taking annoying pictures of all my friends. I’ve found I like color. I like gritty details. I like life and dirt and capturing a moment. And in my French class, I’m learning so quickly. I love the way French feels in my mouth, the way it sounds to my ears. I used to describe Spanish as chocolate. But French is like a chocolate soufflé.
This morning in my photo class (photos to come), we were looking at the work of this photographer-turned-painter, Henri Cartier-Bresson. I’m so enthralled by his photos. Somehow, with his analog camera, he managed to capture the most incredible photos, these moments of human reality that are fluid and stunning. I can’t even describe it. His photos say more than any writer could.
Maybe that’s why I’m intrigued so much by photography. Often, photos are pretty or they depict some sort of scene. They accompany a story or they complement an article. But other times, photos go above and beyond simply being a sidekick to some superhero story. Sometimes, they manage to capture the visual and an entire story all in one.
A while ago, Edwin showed me this photo of a girl sitting at a French café. He said he liked it because it somehow captured exactly what Paris is. It’s youth and style and diversity and people watching at outdoor cafes. Turns out, that photo was taken by Cartier-Bresson.
