A funny thing happened to me on the way to the shops today. As I walked out the door, I made the rash decision to take my camera with me and try and get some images of my nearby village. There was a brisk north-easterly blowing down from the mountains and the light was grim and flat, nothing to attract my photographic attention, so why not, I thought. Of course, the reason why not is obvious to anyone who knows me… because the last location I feel comfortable photographing in is our village, where I always feel that every eye is on me if I so much as walk down the street with a camera. But undeterred, I bravely shouldered my gear and off I went.
I did manage to get a few shots, even though they were pretty much grabbed in passing, any thought on technicalities and composition pushed well to the back of my mind by my anxiety at being spotted… an absurdity, I know, but there it is!
Then when I started processing them, I had another radical (for me) idea. I’d stepped out of one comfort zone that morning, so why not step out of another. You see I tend to be a perfectionist. I’m compelled to get every line straight, every tone just right, everything neat and tidy. But those aren’t necessarily the images I feel most drawn to when I look through the work of other photographers… so I stopped tidying up.