I had a big fight
with my literature teacher eight years ago. She asked me to write twenty daily
journals which would be due the next month. Now that I remember it, how embarrassing!
Please someone, bury me alive! How could I do something so shamefully and so disrespectful?
That’s a literature exercise. Of course I had to write. How silly was I?
“A picture is
worth a thousand words so why should I write journal? It’s such a waste of
paper, ink and space,” I said. I also argued that when rereading it, it costs effort
to reconstruct the background, people’s faces and many things else. Sometimes,
it takes effort to “decode” what they wrote. They may have bad handwriting, for
example, or they didn’t want other people to learn their secrets so they
“encrypted” the messages. Now they forget how to “decrypt” them. That is too
ironic, isn’t it?
My
opinion hasn’t changed since then. I tried to write journal once because my
teacher said it could help me to improve my writing (Although it lasted only one
week, I was too lazy to continue). Several years later, I reviewed it and …
“What did I write?” Writing is totally inefficient to me while in the opposite,
a photograph already “saves” the whole world inside it.
As time passes,
things change and memories fade out, even more quickly with some people. It’s
the rule, a fact everybody knows and cannot deny. However, people, landscapes, animals,
everything in the pictures never changes; even the ones in Harry Potter series
won’t. They move around freely, sometimes out of the frame, but they will never
grow old or have plastic surgery. It’s as if the photograph has put a stop in
time. Isn’t it amazing for us, humans, to be able to go against nature?
 |
| Jogging.... |
The
memory of how my passion for photography started was vague. I think I inherit
it from my father. My family used to own a camera studio in Ho Chi Minh city,
Vietnam. Since I was four, I have been watching my father and mother working in
their workshop, taking pictures of people. Each of them posed in front of
beautiful backgrounds, wore beautiful clothes, and smiled very happily, which
lit up the whole room. I admired them very much. It had become a habit of mine
to sit at the back of the studio, next to the two-meter-wide black wooden
closet in which my parents kept their equipments, wigs and stuff toys;
observing and helping them some chores. I didn’t do much help but our customers
always praised me when I brought them water and snacks. After our customers
went home, I would always stay and help my father cleaning up the studio. Usually,
my father spoke very little but during that time, he told me a lot of things
about camera such as their history and how they work. I have forgotten most of
them but what I do remember best is the image of him holding his camera. That’s
when I think my passion started to grow.
However,
not until I was ten years old did my parents allow me to touch a camera for the
first time. I will always remember that day: the twentieth of May 2004 in front
of the Third Merlion in Merlion Park in Singapore. I’m still impressed with the
imposing landscape that day: wide open blue sky without even a single cloud;
crowded people, both young and old, walking in the white park with a lots of
high perrons which, to a child like me, seemed to be like mountains made of granite
brittles; then a little far away, there was a long, huge green river which
connects to the ocean at its end where you would be able to find hundreds or
thousands of heavyweight commercial ships with various beautiful colors and
decorations; and in the center of all, an enormous statue of a legend animal,
half lion, half fish, the pride of the whole “Singapura”, the city of the lion.
By
this time, my family had already moved to a different house where my parents
started their camera and accessories shop. In the old studio, my parents only
owned one set of manual single-lens- reflex (SLR) so they would obviously not
permit me to use it. If I accidentally broke it, we would be dead. However, at
that time, we had many different kinds of machines, professional and compact,
in our store. So they allowed me to take one photo as I had always wanted.
Whenever I look at it, a special feeling arose. The grandiose scene and the
cheerful smiles of my parents form the most terrific and unique picture ever.
That first photograph I took still remains one of my favorites in the family
album.
How a camera produces a picture was like magic
when I was a child and it still is today. Just using one simple principle which
is using a piece of glass to redirect light beam bounced off of an object to
form a real image that is captured and stored in a medium such as a film or a
memory card, the scientists have improved the technique of photography so much
that a normal person could not even imagine. The world had its first
photographic image in 1814 by Joseph Niepce using a camera obscura. The photo
was not only black and white but also required eight hours of light exposure
for the image to appear. However, it faded very quickly afterwards. Twenty
three years later, Louis Daquerre succeeded to create the photograph that never
decolorized and reduced the eight hour light exposure to thirty minutes.
But
this camera could only take pictures of still objects under many strict
conditions. For example, a photographer wanted to take picture of a person, the
model had to stay immobilized in at least 300 seconds and had to put no less
than one-centimeter-thick white cream all over their body to create an obvious,
visible difference between them and the background in order to have a clear
image. Staying still for more than five minutes to have a picture? That’s
totally insane. But look at the present, there is nothing’s image people cannot
capture, from tree, animal, sun, moon, star or even a drop of water. Now, it
only takes 1/6000
th second to create a photograph. All we need is
one click and Voilà! We have saved an image into the memory card. There are no
words that can express how miraculous the scientists have unstoppably pursued
the perfection of photography.
 |
| http://www.flickr.com/photos/l_s_g/4258054937/sizes/m/in/pool-907335@N22/ |
Nowadays, owning a
camera has become very usual. Millions of people have their own, either
professional or portable or maybe both. That’s right! I have, you have, your
friends have, your neighbor has. What’s so extraordinary about it? Compared to
the past when it’s firstly invented, people will be astonished with how many
things have changed in just a couple centuries. Back then, a camera was
extremely expensive so the number of owners could only be counted on the finger
tips. The weight and the high level of difficulty of using it also limited the
opportunity of seeing it to in some important ceremonies or inside the high
class mansions. Furthermore, countless myths were invented, especially in Asia
where habitants were superstitious at that period of time. The majority of them
believed that camera was the evil tool that trapped human’s souls inside the
photograph which could be used for cursing. Some even believed that camera was
the secret weapon the Westerns sent to destroy their countries. Don’t be
surprise; I’m talking about the citizens of the 19th century. Seeing
the exact image of them was a fearful thing. They were here, how could they be
there? What would happen if their little selves got destroyed? Would they
suffer the same fate? The lack of knowledge and the false analogy of the idiot
priests created propaganda. But when people feared something, they had crazy
actions. As a result, the photographers accidentally became the victims.
Instead of receiving respect because of their modern minds, they were beaten up;
were assassinated; their houses were burnt down and many things else. Photographer
was considered as one of the most dangerous jobs in Asia at that time. From
something hardly seen in years, it turns to a phenomenon, an electronic gadget available
in every household.
Technological
development has reduced both the price and the size of the cameras so that normal
people can afford them. That’s what I hate and love at the same time; it is a contradict
but it’s my true feeling. If they have not reduced the price and make camera
easier to use, I guess I never have the chance to own one. But because everyone
had one, they don’t value it anymore. To them, camera is nothing but a cheap
toy. How many of them do realize its beauty and delicateness?
“If one doesn’t
respect his or her camera, one can’t produce beautiful photographs.” That’s my
motto. Like a cook grew inseparable to their knife or a hair stylist to their
scissors. I heard this story one morning when I went to cut my hair. It was a
sunny Saturday and expected to be my wonderful 15th birthday. In the
evening, our family planned to go out for dinner. Of course I wanted to look beautiful in my own
party. So I and Trang, my closest friend, went to the salon which was on the
newspaper the week before for high quality service. Fortunately, that day, the
owner served me. She is the winner of the “National Beauticians” competition. “Lucky
day!!!”, I chuckled. She greeted me politely with her soft Northern Vietnamese
voice and asked what hairstyle I wanted. She was in such a good mood that I
could not imagine anything that could make her piss-off. However, it all
changed when she picked the scissors. Suddenly, she yelled angrily “Who used my
scissors?” Every staffs in the store outraged, too. They seemed to feel
insulted.
“Who
did this?”
“Is
she insane?”
“How
terrible!”
“Clank”,
the owner put the pair of scissors to the table violently, said to me “Wait
there” then headed furiously to the stair. I was scared the hell out of me. “What
just happened?” I wondered. Five minutes later, she came back, took another
pair out of her pocket and started to cut my hair. While doing it, she was
smiling delightfully, partly from relief, partly from satisfaction.
“Please
forgive for my rudeness”, she whispered softly, “I don’t mean to scare you. Today’s
service is free”
“Whatever,
I’ll never come back”, I thought disgruntled, “‘nowhere has better customer
service’ It should be ‘Nowhere has worse customer service’. That damned
newspaper! It ruined my whole day.”
She
continued to explain airily, in a formal tone that it sounded weird, “You may
not believe me but to us, scissors are the holiest thing on Earth, our best
teacher and friends. A skillful stylist can feel their energy running within their
scissors. The more we and they connect the better they become. However, one
pair of scissors is meant for only one hair stylist. If someone uses yours, they
broke them. That’s the most terrible mistake a hair stylist should never make,
never ever.”
“If
you don’t respect your teachers and friends, you’ll never be able to do
anything great, right?” she concluded then added “Luckily, I have my practice
ones at home.”
Somehow, her words
reached me. I have the same thinking when I take pictures. It’s like the photo,
the camera and me connecting with each other. The camera is my eyes and the
photo is my memory.
“If she
understands it, indeed this is not a bad shop,” I mumbled as she flicked the
remaining hair off my shoulder.
“Please don’t
scare me again next time, okay?” turning my head around, I insisted a little
ironically. My black, perfectly cut flying with inertia quickly returned to its
new form.
“I won’t, miss;”
replied she while smiling back to me.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Then as in some
old movies, we suddenly burst into laughter. Since then, I become their loyal
customer and her loyal friend. As long as we are together, there’s no boredom
and time seems to flow too fast.
And to make the
day even more remarkable, I had one of the most enjoyable birthday party. To my
surprise, my parents took the whole family to a famous French three star
restaurant located in downtown. The meal started with Hors D’oeuvres and Milk
Soup, then the salad, beef steak and Mille-feuille as the dessert. I felt like
we were in a wedding, not in a birthday party. The beef steak was even bigger
than my two hands together and the smashed potato was awesome. After I was
finishing the main course, suddenly the pianist played the song “Bonne
Anniversaire” and a waiter came to me, brought a small package with a line of
text “From Mom and Dad” on a plate.
“A birth day
present! For me? Really? Wow!” I thought.
Many people would
wonder why I had that reaction. But my family didn’t have the tradition of giving
any of their members gift in their special day. We only went out for dinner and
that was it, nothing more, nothing less. That’s totally extraordinary. I tore
the wrap at light-speed out of excitement and discovered inside the latest
Nikon black mechanical and digital type model. The happiness froze me for more
than thirty seconds. I couldn’t believe it. My own camera? It meant from then on, I could take picture
whenever, wherever, as much as I want. And those pictures belong to me and my
alone. I promised to myself that I will keep it by my side anywhere I go.
 |
| http://photography-cameras.org/tips/how-to-choose-a-digital-camera-key-features |
True photography
only comes from real camera. That’s the lesson I learnt myself. Nowadays,
various devices can take pictures besides camera such as cell phones which are
the most popular machines. Three months after I received my birthday present,
my mother gave me the first mobile phone of my life in order to celebrate I got
into high school. I continued to carry both for three more months. But then I
started to grow tired of it. The camera became heavier and heavier until the
level that I treated it as a burden. Why don’t I take picture with my cell
phone? It’s quicker and more convenient. Happy with my decision, I put it into
the separate highest drawer of the cupboard at the corner of my room.
Four months ago, I
planned to study at the United States so I began to organize my belongings by
emptying one drawer after another. When I thought everything was done, while
taking the last look at my dear territory, I realized that I had forgotten that
drawer. Because it’s above my eye sight, I reached out my hand trying to check
whether there was anything inside. Suddenly, I hit something. It’s big, hard
and heavy. “What is it?” I wondered so I grabbed it out. Holding it in my hands,
I took an overall look of my birthday gift: clean, fully charged, in perfect
shape. Unexpectedly, the tear ran down of my face. Someone must have taken care
of it for all these time. Is it Mom? Or is it Dad? Not only had they forgiven
me for thinking little of their feeling but they also took effort to keep it
fine and square so I could use it anytime I want. The guilt filled up my heart
and mind that I could not stop crying. How long haven’t I touched a real
camera? How long have I abandoned my best friend? How long have I surrendered
myself to the fake, pseudo-photography? How long have I forgotten this
feeling? How long…? More and more kept
coming up to me, echoing in my head.
It makes me
realize the great variance in my feeling between the camera and the cell phone.
When I hold my Samsung phone, things become light-weighting. Isn’t it just like
a kid playing with the device? She just clicks the button spontaneously;
capture everything within her vision without putting her mind into it. No
thinking, no feeling; there’s nothing that makes the picture unique,
unforgettable while they are the factors that make up photography.
So
in the end, what’s the difference between taking pictures by a camera or by any
other device? Actually, each people has their own answer. As long as they have
the “attitude”, as long as they are serious, they are the photographers; what
they create is the “magic of the modern world”, the magic of their own world.
P/S: This memoir is full of surprise, starting with the topic. At first, when I consider what I should write, it didn't even cross my mind. I only remember the dramatic memories I experienced in the past because they have big impressions in my life. But after a while, suddenly I thought, "I am very happy now. Why should I make it seem to be terrible?". That's when this memoir began. Secondly, it doesn't follow my plan at ALL. Things just flowed out of my head naturally. May be we should be spontaneous sometimes. And last but not least, I couldn't imagine that there is a time when I share these memories with anyone. To many people, the story of a child realizing how important a passion is to her seems meaningless and useless. This is an unique experience.
