The Joy of Lens

Reflections on the Magic of Travel Photography by Nico Crisafulli 

When someone you know returns from a trip, no matter how long it is, the first thing they’ll do is tell you whether it was good or not. Then there’ll be a grab bag of events that went down along the way - some good, some bad, some ugly. Most likely the next thing you see from them is a link to a slideshow of the multiple gigs of photos they took while they were away. You will open the photostream and obediently click through the images or watch the slideshow and either you will be dramatically immersed, wrenched from your very room, or else be glib and sarcastic and say to yourself that your photos would’ve been better had you had the opportunity to take some of your own.

Either way, many people, myself included feel photography is one of the most enjoyable and looked-forward to elements of any trip. Walking around with eyes open, the inner rectangle laying down upon everything that even whispers interest, from beautiful mosaic to blank wall, from parking lot to Pantheon, it's a magical centerpoint of a trip, being ready to capture a moment on sensor, hard-drive, paper and ultimately frame, and thereby lifting it towards the wondrous temple of imagination.

During lulls in the daily action of a trip I'll scan through, with near obsessive scrutiny, the shots I've hoarded on my memory card. I'll be checking to see which, if any, were "epic". You know the ones: that baby or elder face, that sweet corner or sidewalk scene, that surprise meeting existing solely to be etched upon your consciousness forever, fully encapsulating  the spirit of that day, that week, that trip, or that time in your life utterly perfectly. They are the few elusive shots you wouldn't untake if your life depended on it. I live for those. The iconic ones, the photos that even the very mention a location makes you think of them.

I don't consider myself to be an expert photographer, merely an enthusiast with a good eye. My knowledge of exposure leaves much to be desired and when stacked next to those with an obvious professional tilt, the difference is so apparent it's hard not to scoff at my dingy first-edition digital Rebel. I should say though that a fair portion of what makes modern professional photography outstanding is not the camera, the lens, or even the eye behind it, but the software that enhances it. Which is a bit of a shame since those greats of old had nothing but themselves to make their spectrums bounce. You wonder where they'd be if they had. Nevertheless, professionals put a glossy patina on any site, artifact, or monument bringing it to the veritable surreal. It's something that one simple visit will not allow you. It creates a sense of strange otherworldliness that may or may not even be there when you see it firsthand, a ghostly sheen over the photograph that's hard to define.

How often is it that you take pictures of the Eiffel Tower, Great Wall, Christ the Redeemer, Giza Pyramid or other iconic spot only to find that it looks nothing like you saw on the books covers and travel sites, but shrouded in haze, fog or blinding midday sun. In the magazines the lighting was perfect, the Golden Hour mist was gracing the architecture with a nearly divine coloration. But sadly your Machu Picchu was choked with flat grays and millions of people, your Tuscan olive grove was baked and wilted under a three year long drought.

But perhaps your photos are that much better because you get shots like that, the world with all its nakedness, with your own personal experience. It's how you will ultimately remember it, how it will always be to you, until you return and see it in some other light. This is why other people's photos won't ever do as much for you as your own. It's the intimacy of the shooter’s world with all its imperfections that they bring back home. 

I appreciate this most about the moment of capture. That it's a question of luck just as much as it is of skill. Granted you must know more than just when to snap the shutter, but availing yourself to the surreptitiousness of chance will end up being the most important part of any photo moment. And often times you will get that sunbeam, that swan with it wings reared out, that laughing child. And you will feel amazing because of it.

My desire when traveling is to bring the tiniest elements into the pastiche. Because in my opinion, that's what traveling is: a million tiny pieces that blend to form the collage of your memory. What are pictures but hundreds of 4 by 6 pieces of memory manifested onto glossy paper?

Ultimately, you will think what you want about other people's pictures. You will take what you want and leave the rest. Most of their richness is for the photographer alone. They are the ones able to be transported back to the moment of shutterfall and, in many ways, this time-travel is the most inspiring aspect of any art form: this seizing of the past, of the location, of the dream of the person you once were and may never be again.

While yes, I will always look longingly at other's talents and exotic destinations, I will scroll back through my own laptop photos and at once be sucked back through the wormhole to Istanbul, Paris, Rome, Rio, Cusco, Siam Reap, etc and etc.

This is the benefit of the camera for me. This is why I look through the eyehole to the world I live in, the beautiful, colorful, frame-ready world in which I live.