Personal photography
I’m still trying to identify why I like Substack so much more than other social platforms. So navel gazing warning is in place.
One of the things that annoyed me with Substack is the fact that the various people writing on it do so for duplicates of themselves.
I’m not a street photographer. Part of it is that I live in the middle of nowhere and we don’t really have streets. I was in Paris at the weekend to visit my parents, so I experimented a bit.
During my last visit in Paris, I went to a Richard Avedon exhibition at the Cartier-Bresson Foundation.
In our modern world of unlimited cloud storage and high-capacity hard drives, the practice of printing photographs might seem antiquated. Yet, this traditional approach to preserving memories remains not just relevant but crucial, particularly when considering the long-term preservation of our visual heritage.
I hate photography challenges. They just don’t work for me. But I also desperately want to take part.
Can I show you more flowers from one of my walks?
The rape is in full bloom (hello hay fever!). I liked the way these heads were framing the sun. I had to lie on the ground to take it.
Over the years, I have developed what I call my photographic style. It doesn’t mean my photos are good, just that I found what pleases me and what works for me. And that’s what I do. I don’t do this professionally, not even creatively, so I don’t feel the pressure to be different.
It was another sunny day on Saturday, so instead of walking indoors, I went for a walk around our village
Admit it: you can’t always be great. Despite what “influencers” want you to believe, not everything in life is perfect, and certainly not from the get go.
I really like Substack and the people I’ve interacted with on it so far. But I’ll be a bit controversial. Because sometimes you need to look at the less bright side of life to know where things really stand. I’m feeling frustrated with some of the trends I see on Substack: if you’re on Substack but you only have a paid subscription, you’re there to make money. Not to write. Not to share. Not for readers. For money.
