I've had a slump in my photography lately. This is mostly blamed on my monstrous work schedule, but some is truly my fault.
I've been taking pictures of things, analyzing them, and casting them off. They aren't up to my expectations. They aren't good enough. They are average. When did I stop appreciating the unique capture of a single photograph? When did I become a photo snob to myself? I feel like I deserve some more credit than that.
For example, take this photograph of some sunflowers in my apartment:
Not so bad, right? I had spent the entire morning trying to get the right light, keep the saturated colors from blowing out my focus, and keep from knocking it over. I'm pretty clumsy. But looking in my screen, I saw nothing I liked. The focus looked blurred, the colors bleeding.
I get this critical perfectionism from my Mother. It all started with science fair boards in middle school and has transfered on to the other aspects of my life.
It took a mind-clearing walk with my camera today to get out of it. Walking along the sidewalk, I saw some cute purple flowers poking through the border grass. I snapped a couple of pictures. I figured the harsh afternoon sun would wash it out, but instead I looked to find delicately detailed macro flowers.
Nothing like the simplicity of the beauty of flowers to snap you out of it.
Here is the shot: