I’ve always been inspired by photography. Taking a shot of something that is still for just a moment. It shows an object or space (or whatever it might be) at a point of pure inspiration. A photograph is lasting, worth something more than just what the objects within are worth, at least to the photographer.
I’ve taken photography classes, I’ve tried all different ways of shooting, positioning, going outside the box, but only some of my shots have become something greater than just me. For a photographer, they know that what they see within something might not always come across to someone else in the same way. It is an art form, meant to be interpreted, discussed. It is meant to bend the rules of imagination and cut through to the heart through the eyes.
National Geographic has always had the best photographers. My dad still has a monthly subscription to the magazine, and as a family, we’ve never thrown any of them out. No, we’re not hoarders, we just know the value of them. Not just for the articles, which are both enticing and noteworthy, but for the photography within. My dad has always been a photographer. He really got his start in the military, actually. That’s what he was trained to do (as well as combat and other things). He spent years in dark rooms, working on his craft, which I truly believe photography to be, a craft, and he passed that love down to me.
It is because of all of this background that I post the following picture (which comes from the url below it):
I think this photo really encompasses what we, as a literary journal are trying to accomplish. We realize that there is a lot out there, that genres and themes and works will blend. And we want them to. But we still want to be able to navigate through it all at the end of the day, but you can leave that part up to us, we know what to do.