You know when you really wish you were good at something? When you look at someone’s hobby and think- wow, I’d really love to be good at that. The things I would do to be good at that.
You dream of picking up the relevant hobby-tool -a guitar/Photoshop/a hammer- and discovering that- wait a minute- you have a real knack for this stuff! This is it! Your natural skill! You were born to be a musician/graphic designer/carpenter(…)!
Well, my thing is photography.
I’ve always quite secretly thought I’ve got what I like to call “an eye” for photography, I just lack any training or equipment. But man, let me get hold of a camera and I’ll be fronting National Geographic in no time. In no time whatsoever.
So, I got myself a camera. In fact, I got plenty. (Let’s just take a quick second to pay our respects to the cameras I have disrespected in my quest to become a semi-decent photographer. The one I lost in Reflex during Pub Golf 2011. The one I got so much sand in, the lens refused to open. The one I lost the charger to in one of my many house moves, and was therefore subject to a slow, painful death. I’m sorry.)
Fast forward several deceased cameras later (RIP), I’m now on my shiny bridge camera. It’s an Olympus SP620UZ. Lots of bells and whistles. Lots of megapixels. Pop-up flash. Looks the business. One problem though- I haven’t got a clue how to work it.
I was (naively) expecting it to come a lot more naturally than it has done. I’m sure after some real playing around with it, and getting in lots of practice and advice, I’ll be fine. I’ve already seen massive improvements. But in the meantime-
Where the slightest movement makes the subject look like something out of Paranormal Activity. It’s not the camera’s fault, either. On a recent trip to Edinburgh, my boyfriend had hold of my camera for about five minutes before he managed to take this: