This is Why I’m a Photographer / by Les Dishman

Photo by author. Canon 5D Mark II, Canon 70-200 F2.8 lens

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.”
— Ansel Adams

If you’re fortunate to live a life of relative comfort (like I have been), you will find one or two interests that will resonate with you for a lifetime. People collect things, they study things, they travel, or they learn an instrument. For me, those passions and pursuits were physical fitness and photography. In the interest of not boring EVERYONE, I’ll skip the humble brag about how I used to be in really good shape and proceed directly to photography.

Photography

As I progressed through my 30s, 40s, and 50s, my passion for photography grew and evolved. I’ve written about it before, but my camera gear also evolved over time. My subjects early on were essentially anything and anyone that happened to be in front of my camera. I tried it all. Street photography, product photography, urban art, and travel photography were just a few genres I tried. And despite the tens of thousands of shutter clicks I went through, I never really thought about the deeper connections and meaning that can occur between a photographer, their camera, and their subject. It wasn’t until I began to point my camera at people – specifically two people – that I really started to look beyond the actual shutter release and began to think about the role that a camera can play in our lives. I began to think more critically about the people I was interacting with and began to think deeply about why I was actually taking those photographs.

Those two people – my father and my wife – have been the mainstay of my photographic journey. More specifically, the photos I’ve taken of them over the years have significantly informed the approach I take behind the camera and have become the foundation of what I do, why I do it, and how I relate to my subjects.

They may not know it, but my wife and my father taught me to be a photographer.

“There is one thing the photo must contain – the humanity of the moment.”
— Robert Frank

Photo by author. A candid portrait of Sunnie. Taken with a Canon 1N 35mm SLR, Canon 24-105 F4 lens, and an expired roll of Kodak Gold 100 film.

Everyone (hopefully) has a few special people in their lives that add (and maybe even define) meaning and purpose to their existence. I’ve had a number of really special people that have helped me become the person I am today. My mother and brother certainly had a great deal of influence on me. I’m very proud of my daughter and the woman she has become. I have taken many photos of them (candid and formal) and will continue to do so for as long as I can. But it was my wife and my father that helped me to elevate my photographic skills simply because of the grace, confidence, and ease they brought to being the subject of literally thousands of my photographs over the last couple of decades.

As my father has grown older (he’s 83 as of this writing), he has approached his golden years with an ease and a refined comfort and acceptance of who he is. He is completely comfortable in front of the camera, does not flinch at the thought of his photo being taken, and is happy to hold entire conversations while sitting for portraits. Anyone who is interested in portrait photography will understand how special this actually is. Portrait photographers are always looking for genuine emotion from and a genuine connection with their subjects in order to get that “perfect” portrait. Portrait photographers must master two things if they are to approach anything resembling a mastery of the craft. They must first master the technical aspects of camera, lens, and lighting gear, but they must also master the ability to relate to and converse with a subject in ways that elicit genuine emotion during a photo session. The latter of those skills is easily the most difficult to master. Subjects – like my father - who are able to set aside the fact that they’re sitting for a portrait and will instead carry on a lively conversation will display an astounding range of emotions, facial expressions, and subtle nuances that make it hard to take a bad photograph.

Subjects like my father don’t realize it, but they do most of the work during a portrait session. For these kinds of subjects, photographers simply have to keep shooting and wait for that perfect combination of composition, light, and facial expression to capture the essence of who their subject is in that particular moment.

My wife of 30 years is another person who is quite comfortable in front of my lens. She has an engaging personality, an easy smile, kind eyes, and has always been willing to be my subject as I’m forever testing this new lighting pattern, that new camera and lens combination, or how that inverse square law thing actually does work. Since I’ve lived with her for nearly 30 years as of this writing, I certainly have more “candid” photos of her than I do of my father, but I also have plenty of formal portraits and headshots of her that we’ve collaborated on over the years. I’m happy to say that I’ve documented her adult life quite comprehensively and that she will have plenty of photographs (a vast array of which have been printed at the 8x10” and larger sizes) to look back on as she enters her golden years. And despite those many thousands of photos, she remains - by far - my favorite subject to photograph and I can still easily find new angles and new compositions in which to frame her.

Both of these individuals have given me a gift that I could never repay. They gave of their time, their patience, their personality, and their good sense of humor as I fumbled about with a camera/lens combo, lighting modifier, or new lighting technique. Together, they taught me how to be graceful, gracious, and to give gratitude for the positives I have in my life. They’ve taught me how to be a better person and how to go through life with a kindness and a respect for those around me. They’ve taught me how to be comfortable in my own skin and how to be positive and hopeful when negativity and resignation seemed more appropriate.

They also taught me how to be a portrait photographer.

I trust that I’ve captured at least SOME of that in one or two of the photographs that I’ve taken of them over the years.