Watermelon Rhymes
Integrity

Written Picture: Fourth of July

In my My Word! class that I teach at Big Picture Scrapbooking, one of the assignments is to write a picture---describe, in words, a photo that you couldn't or didn't take, for whatever reason, as if it existed. This is a great assignment to get you thinking beyond the expected for your journaling. I use this quite a bit on layouts without any photos at all. It's creatively freeing; you can describe a photo that you couldn't take (maybe a religious ceremony where it's against custom to take pictures, for example), or one you don't have the technical skills to capture (as in today's written picture), or even one that is impossible to take now (like a picture of the cat you had, growing up, who's been dead for fifteen years). And it releases you from the obligation of always taking pictures and the tension or stress that might cause.

Lately I've been trying to leave my camera at home more often. That sounds weird, I know, but I feel like quite often, I'm The Event Photographer instead of just a person at the event, and being behind the lens sometimes makes me feel less involved. Instead of always taking pictures, I'm trying to just be there, be a part of the experience, and then write about it later. Last night, as I was in one of those moments when, if I'd had it with me, I would have gone running for my camera, I thought to myself, "self, you should start writing some of your written pictures in your blog." So I'm going to.

In the photo I didn't take this Fourth of July, I am sitting in a camping chair on a tiny spot of grass in a grocery store parking lot with Jake, all long legs and spindly elbows, sprawled uncomfortably in my lap. Kaleb and Nathan are sitting in front of me, in tiny camping chairs; Nathan has his arm around Kaleb and Kaleb has tried to put his head on Nathan's shoulder, but instead their ears are pressing together. You can only see our backs in this picture, dark silhouettes, and in front of us, in the top left corner, the fireworks are exploding, golden candelabras. If you look carefully in the top right corner, you can see Haley, hanging out on a blanket with the older cousins; the rest of the photo is black.

It seems to me that no matter how cool of a camera you have, words are an equally cool tool for preserving images.

Comments

hwalk

I love your written picture--not only do I get the visual image, but it becomes more three dimensional and real. And sometimes I can visualize better with words than with a picture--if that makes sense. Eyes have limitations that words don't have.

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