I’m having a few pieces printed for myself and the young woman asks a question.
“Are you a photographer?”
I have a camera. I capture what electrons are bounced around onto a sensor through optics, a science that Sir Isaac Newton was kind enough to toss down through history through the centuries such that I might have a copy of his work on my shelf. I understand the duality of light.
And I failed art in secondary school. Well, I didn’t really fail as much as could never finish the poster paint homework in time for it to dry for class, but I knew I wasn’t good at it.
I know people I think of as photographers. They’ve spent a lot of time doing it, as much time as I’ve spent commanding computers through glorified reusable, self-referential and adaptable logic.
But then, too, I’ve brushed my teeth longer more frequently than that. Am I a tooth-brusher?
Realizing the moment had drawn on too long, I responded.
“I practice photography, among other things.”
“Well, if you give us your information, we can give you discounts….”
And this is how you get people claiming to be photographers, tossing ‘Studios’ behind their name.
I shrugged. “No ‘Studios’ here.”
More photography is planned on RealityFragments.com.
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