Not for the Faint of Heart

Over and over, in photographers blogs that I read, they challenge me with the question “why do you do what you do?” Like it is the big overpowering question, the quest in life, and if I can answer that, then all of my fears, qualms, wonders, struggles in having a photography business will be solved.

And I sit there and think, “well, damn.” I don’t have a good answer. That’s just what I do. Does that mean that I am not really a photographer? I won’t succeed because I have no passion? I’ve been doing photography a long time, do I just not care anymore?

I mean, I love colors, and texture, and composition. But those things aren’t really earth moving. This is really a question I’ve been struggling with for a long time. And it’s scary to admit that because I want to be one of those people who is totally inspired, and totally an artist, and totally 100% confident in their choices.

But then I see things like this. And I remember why I pursue photography. Because it is powerful.

Well, it can be powerful. It can display emotions—happiness is mostly what I see when I take pictures. But It can also show sorry. And hope. And tell a story.

I stumbled upon this slideshow a couple of months ago. I thought about posting it then, but it was so emotional for me, I didn't. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately. And I’m just warning you, I sobbed when I watched it. So if you are tender of heart, it might not be something you’re interested in viewing. 

It is a photographic documentation of the funeral of Gavin Norton, the baby of Natalie Norton, a photographer who lives in Hawaii. And it seems like a very odd thing that she asked her friend,  Jonathan Canlas, to photograph the funeral of her little one. But I think she did because she understands the power of photography. And she wanted the story of the love of her little boy to be told.