In a vain attempt to organise myself and refine my approach to photographing things, I decided to keep a notebook, which I will henceforth refer to in a snooty manner as my
In my journal, I use something called a pen to write down words, it’s all very primitive and makes me feel like some sort of Victorian toff, what is all posh and that. With my whizzy fountain pen swooshing across the page, I imagine myself penning some sort of literary classic. My thoughts flow in a raging torrent onto the page, insightful and full of witticisms, recorded for future generations to marvel at, and learn from.
In practice, instead of creating a literary masterpiece, I’m literally scrawling gibberish, as my words spew out onto the page like sick out of a drunk cat, with smudged ink everywhere and ineptly scribbled diagrams that wouldn’t look out of place gracing the pages of a workbook of a five year old.
Exaggeration? I wish.
By writing down in advance what I hope to achieve, and how I will approach a shoot, I hope to be able to improve my output by setting goals and working towards them instead of frenziedly firing off frame after frame and hoping something good results.
Will this work? Who knows, but it can’t hurt to try. Plus I get to cut things out and stick them in, I always wanted a scrap book when I was a youngard.