Guiding Wake
Like so many assignments, this morning started early. I was in Alexandria, Minnesota, to photograph a husband and wife paddleboarding for Explore Alexandria’s travel campaign.
As I unloaded my gear, I could smell the dampness of the earth mixing with the fresh scent of Lake Carlos.
The fog was thick, with just a hint of light glowing on the horizon. The lake was so calm it looked like glass, barely disturbed by the pontoon as we made our way to the shoot location. I'm not a morning person, so I was struck by how peaceful it was. There was no wind, no noise—just the distant call of a loon and our pontoon engine humming softly at low rpm as we cut through the water.
Nearing our destination, I tried to previsualize the shots I needed to get for my client. But there was this itch—this nagging feeling that I was missing out on something more important, the part of me that just wanted to capture beauty for the sake of it, not because someone was paying me to.
It's not easy finding time to shoot for myself. As a commercial photographer, I usually rush from one assignment to the next, always thinking about the next shot, the next client. But as I stood on the boat, I realized I couldn't let this scene disappear. It was too perfect, too pure—a moment of serenity that I needed to hold on to forever.
I hesitated. Telling myself I was here to work, not to indulge in any personal projects. But something in me pushed back against these thoughts. I couldn't let this moment slip by.
Rebuking my hesitation, I grabbed my camera and adjusted the settings, honing in on the scene. The mist clung to the reeds, and the water barely rippled as the pontoon carved its way through the still waters.
I pressed the shutter, the sound resonating in the stillness—an image of perfect tranquility.
The composition was simple yet profound, mirroring my journey as a photographer—always striving to find my own path and create something that resonates, even when it means stepping away from the crowds.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and savored the moment.
The sun continued to rise as we arrived at our desired location, signaling the beginning of our commercial shoot. I had captured my shot just in time.
The rest of the morning was filled with directing the couple and creating timeless images for the client. But there was a difference now. The image I had captured remained within me, a reminder that I was not just a photographer for hire.
Later, when reviewing the photos in my hotel room, I couldn’t help but edit my photo right away. This wasn't just another picture but a reminder of why I became a photographer. It was a quiet moment that speaks volumes, capturing the essence of what I love about photography—the ability to find beauty in stillness, to see symbols and meaning in the world in a way that others might overlook.
My clients were thrilled with their photos, but the real victory was deeply personal.
On that foggy morning, I found more than a nice photograph; I found a piece of myself, of the joy I find in pursuing my work.
It was a moment of rediscovery where I finally felt like an artist again.
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