I have taken 32,437 photos since my first child was born in 2005.
I should be able to say I'm surprised, and I am ... honestly, I'm surprised it's not a lot more than that.
Digital has made me a fearless photographer. I can take hundreds of shots of a single event, and never have to worry about how much it's going to cost me to have all that film developed. I can waste shots with abandon. And because I fire off so many wasted shots, I get a lot more great shots than I would if I was just killing a roll of 36 during every event.
But when it comes to my photos, I'm a packrat. I don't delete anything, except for the very overexposed and the very underexposed, and the very blurry. This is how I know I've taken 32,437 photos. I still have every one of them.
I back them up on an external hard drive, and on DVDs stored in two places: one in a fire safe (in case there's a fire) and one on a bookshelf (in case someone breaks in and steals the fire safe).
Someone once told me you are supposed to go through and delete all but the very best of your photos. Ideally, you should only have one great shot per event.
Who made up that stupid rule? In just a few years, my kids will be grown. I don't want one great shot from every event that happened during their short childhoods. I want a shot of each one of the wonderful expressions they wore on their faces during those events. I want shots of what their hands and feet were doing. I want the smiles and the tears. I want pictures of them running, pictures of them standing, and pictures of them wondering what to do next. I want action shots and still shots. I want to know what the event looked like. When I view my pictures, I want to be transported back in time. How can I do that with just "one great shot?"
Childhood is over way, way too soon. I have a fierce need to document all of it, because you can't really go back, not really. Words and pictures can bring you close, though. And when the kids are grown with families of their own, that's all you have left. Words, pictures and memories.
Hang on to them.
I should be able to say I'm surprised, and I am ... honestly, I'm surprised it's not a lot more than that.
Digital has made me a fearless photographer. I can take hundreds of shots of a single event, and never have to worry about how much it's going to cost me to have all that film developed. I can waste shots with abandon. And because I fire off so many wasted shots, I get a lot more great shots than I would if I was just killing a roll of 36 during every event.
But when it comes to my photos, I'm a packrat. I don't delete anything, except for the very overexposed and the very underexposed, and the very blurry. This is how I know I've taken 32,437 photos. I still have every one of them.
I back them up on an external hard drive, and on DVDs stored in two places: one in a fire safe (in case there's a fire) and one on a bookshelf (in case someone breaks in and steals the fire safe).
Someone once told me you are supposed to go through and delete all but the very best of your photos. Ideally, you should only have one great shot per event.
Who made up that stupid rule? In just a few years, my kids will be grown. I don't want one great shot from every event that happened during their short childhoods. I want a shot of each one of the wonderful expressions they wore on their faces during those events. I want shots of what their hands and feet were doing. I want the smiles and the tears. I want pictures of them running, pictures of them standing, and pictures of them wondering what to do next. I want action shots and still shots. I want to know what the event looked like. When I view my pictures, I want to be transported back in time. How can I do that with just "one great shot?"
Childhood is over way, way too soon. I have a fierce need to document all of it, because you can't really go back, not really. Words and pictures can bring you close, though. And when the kids are grown with families of their own, that's all you have left. Words, pictures and memories.
Hang on to them.
Leave a comment