When I photograph something, it’s usually because of the movement I’m trying to capture. There’s always movement in life, whether or not we can see it. For example, in the pictures I’ve included, there is obviously the snow falling and the light reflecting. That implicit movement is what caught my eye and I wanted to capture as much of that moment as I could. As I stood in the falling snow, it occurred to me that, while the movement that grabbed my attention was strong, there was also the less obvious movement that I didn’t initially see. For example, the bench’s metal started to freeze with the cold wetness. The freezing process slows molecules; the snow freezing into ice is an overt example of that slowing motion. Plus, the Earth is always rotating – I know I sometimes forget that, while a bench may seem stationary, it’s moving with everything else that this planet contains. Movement is constant and I enjoy attempting to capture a discreet moment as a sample of that motion.
The thing about all this motion is that sometimes all I see are people who do all they can to stay the same. Even if staying the same is harmful, people sometimes will “stay still” and let their circumstances continue to harm them. As a treatment provider, I see myself as an educator whose purpose it is to help people find their own truth because I strongly believe that once people know their truth, they can then act towards developing it into something healthy. Yet, they see themselves as limited, for whatever reason, and do nothing to take steps forward. They become overcome by inertia and do little to move forward.
However, life never sits still. Even if someone believes that they are stuck in a rut, something is always moving. Our hearts pump, constantly, and our lungs expand and retract with each breath. Reality does not allow motionless life; it’s up to each person to move forward and realize that even if we are unaware of change, it is still happening, always. Even if we try to be like the bench in the picture and await something or someone to come along to fulfill our destiny, there is something moving around us. That’s why I try to capture movement: Because I like to remind myself that right now, something is in motion, even if I feel stuck. That way, when I work with people in recovery, I can be assured in what I believe: Either we move forward by our own volition, or life will move around us and we will be left behind to wither