I tend to walk the streets of Los Angeles as a form of therapy. Being present in my life on a daily takes its toll on me and I find it hard to decompress or to process all that has been thrown my way. I admit, though, my life isn’t bad at all. It's the normal run-of-the-mill life—bills, budget, work, family. A life of privilege, some would say.
As I walk, I tend to photograph places that I and others have done hundreds, if not, thousands of times. I think to myself what if the light was wrong the last time, the angle was skewed, or the focus was not quite right.
A self-proclaimed perfectionist, I want the photograph to embody the subject in its grandeur. I want to feel that I captured its good side.
Recently, mom was in town spending time with my son. Snapping away, she captured pictures of him to remember him by. As I looked through them all the lighting wasn’t perfect, the angles were skewed, and the focus was not quite right but she captured my son in all his grandeur. She captured his good side. The side she remembered.
How we see the image through the lens is exactly how we want it to be. It’s perfect to us.
And sometimes that’s enough.