The first time I saw this picture I burst into tears. Seriously. Someone handed me a copy of it, and I walked into my office and cried for 15 minutes. I can’t put words to the emotions that the crippled bridge somehow managed to capture, but it had a choke hold on me and wasn’t letting go.
Unpacking my feelings about the picture is definitely a different blog post, so don’t worry about that. The reason I share it is that there are days I want to quit photography. There are days that I feel a picture is just a picture, and a lousy one at that. Then I look at an image like this, and I feel the wings of 10,000 baby butterflies taking flight lessons in my stomach. I realize that there is purpose to art. There is purpose to creativity. I know that if you’re an artist or someone who feels they have a creative flair, you know the ups and downs that I do. And they are paralyzing. But don’t let that side track you. There is purpose. There is meaning. You are able to give people the gift of unlocking nameless or forgotten emotions. Giving them the gift of living more fully with the beauty of their heart realized.
(Picture taken from the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections, UW21414)