You may notice that my name is not included in the credit line under photographers on our masthead, despite the fact that I have taken all the party and event pictures in the first three issues. I am not yet good enough to dare call myself a real photographer.
I wanted to be a photographer for as long as I can remember. But when I took a course my freshman year of college, I realized some degree of math was involved, and, lacking the math gene, I forever would be relegated to admiring the photographs of others. However, I did become a society photographer. That is to say, if you go to a party, hold up a beverage, smile and then hold that pose for about a minute, I can take a picture of you that will work in some newspapers or even newsletters.
Soirée deserves better than that. Actually it demands more than that, and so do you. I know you want my pictures to show how truly lovely you are. That is my goal too, even if occasionally I catch you in mid-blink or unwittingly have a flower arrangement, light fixture or exit sign coming out of your head.
Several of my photographer friends have offered advice, but I can’t remember any of it when I am in a crowd of 600 people outside the ballroom of the Statehouse Convention Center or the Peabody Hotel. The best help of all was having one of my photog friends actually take the last issue and say things to me like “Don’t ever put people up against a wall,” and “Don’t ever have on person against a white wall and another in an open doorway in the same picture.” I tried to explain that sometimes it is so crowded I am lucky to get any photos at all, and besides, some people don’t like being dragged by the arm from one side of the room to the other while I look for a suitable spot.
Now I take my camera everywhere and shoot everything. People have seen me walking my dog, Sparky Jr., through my neighborhood, all the while taking photographs of nature—flowers, potholes, road kill, birds and such. It helps. I almost got a picture of a crow with Pecan Sandie cookie in his beak, but he wouldn’t stand still.
So next time you see me, help me watch for low-flying plants and fixtures, and for heaven’s sake, please stand still.
Becki Moore
Editor’s letter, April 9, 2002, Vol. 1, Issue 3