DSC_0001 - my first photography story
Here’s an example of an introverted storyteller telling his story:
Talking to others never really came easy to me, especially in big group settings. On the brightside, that automatically made me a phenomenal listener, if I do say so myself. For years, I’ve honed in on my ability to perk up my ears, maintain eye contact, and nod as others tell me about how they view the world around them. I wanted to tell my own story this time around.
Stepping outside of my comfort zone has always been my biggest route toward personal growth. It made zero sense for myself to join journalism, but I loved storytelling from an outsider’s perspective, constantly watching news broadcasts and looking up YouTube video essays on my favorite movies. I always thought to myself-- “just because I don’t say much doesnt mean I don’t have much to say.”
Journalism and storytelling in general creates endless possibilities. You can tell a tale about an infinite amount of topics. After picking a solid topic, a myriad of mediums can be used to portray your message (e.g., a podcast, an article, a video essay, a one-man play).
In sophomore year of high school, I joined Mr. C’s journalism class, despite desperate pleas from alum telling me not to, insinuating room 11202 to be the 11th circle of hell (the 10th circle being the third floor bathroom when I ate Chipotle the night before).
Mr. C separated his class into two groups:
The people who cared to learn
The people who didn’t
Sometimes I thought Mr. C took the word ‘lecture’ a bit too literally. It felt like at least once a week we would have an entire class where he would just rant about how we didn’t read the news enough or how we haven’t gotten him a pacemaker yet (Mr. C is pretty old and his heart rate was through the roof 24/7, but the pacemaker I’m referring to is a high school journalism award). Never have I ever been so scared of an elective before. To think I could have taken a ceramics class instead…
During the early days of the class, when I was still oh so shy and innocent, there was a huge opportunity for me to show that I really did care to learn, but more importantly, it was an opportunity for me to kiss Mr. C’s ass.
It was open house night, which called for someone to snap candids of the event with a DSLR. I volunteered to do so despite not having any camera experience. Biggest non-sequitur in the world: I have my sister’s old T3 so that must mean I have the ability to take photos worthy of a Pulitzer Prize. I believed in my logic so much that Mr. C mistook my confidence for truth.
The night before the event, I studied up on countless YouTube videos and blog posts about how to use a camera, starting with the exposure triangle then shimmying my way up to the different focus modes. After a while, it seemed pretty cut-and-dry.
Come the actual event, I’m snapping hundreds of photos and in all, I’m just having a fun time. I felt like a professional with this big, bulky black chunk of $700 around my neck. I’m having so much fun, that I forget to look at the photos I’m taking after I press the shutter.
The next morning, Mr. C and I check out the photos I took. They were all near-pitch black, blurry, or even worse, both. I brace myself for a loud shriek of a lecture, but this time, Mr. C spoke in a soft manner.
“Aaron, you can do a lot better than this,” Mr. C said. “Take your time before you take out the camera...”
His low-volume voice and lack of explicitly harsh words affected me more than any sort of shout could. It felt like him being more patient and calm showcased disappointment because he knew I could do a lot better than what I had shown him. I knew too.
After class ended, I stayed in Mr. C’s classroom to have him walk me through handling a camera. I had a much more firm understanding of all the basics: aperture, shutter speed, ISO, flash, lenses, etc. However, I wanted to solidify my knowledge so I also asked the class’ photo editor to walk me through the basics as well. Then, I talked to one of my photographer friends for his input. Later that night, I went through more blog posts and YouTube tutorials to really understand other people’s perspectives on handling a camera.
Needless to say, that was probably the most amount of studying and research I’d done throughout my four years of high school.
Next week, Mr. C asked if anyone wanted to photograph a home basketball game. I shot my hand up and Mr. C gave me a smirk. This time, the photos didn’t suck and Mr. C felt much more confident in allowing me to photograph more events, more headshots, and more of myself.
Come junior year, I’m the Tornado Times’ photo editor. Unfortunately, I can’t find many of the pictures I took in high school, but when I do, I think it would be a great thing for me to revisit and critique in future blog posts.
I’m thankful for my high school photography experience as it presented me with more creative opportunities in college. At UMass, I became the de facto photographer for the campus’ biggest clubs, CMASS’ multimedia journalist, and now the owner of a photography website. I’ll tell all of these stories eventually. I can only write so much in a single blog post.
I had no experience, but I utilized all my resources, both in-person and online, to learn more back then. I still do now as I’m constantly learning. Sometimes confronting your shortcomings and doing the work that may seem tedious is what separates you from the people who care to learn and the people who don’t.