Where Truth Resides


I could capture her in her perfection. The bold silver of her hair or the light magic of her eyes when she's listening in close to every word you say. With any luck, I could take that image and make it shine even more with my fingers at the keyboard, as her years and her flaws slip away. I could do all this and make you see her, make you love her, make you understand who she is without any imperfections holding you back from the truth.
This is my work, I tell myself. To eliminate the distractions. To take the flaws of the photo or the subject and minimize them until all you can see is the beauty. This is why we have the tools right? This is what it means to be an artist in a digital age.
But what if the beauty is in the lines that show with each passing age? What if the magic of knowing her is to see the way that love (and sorrow) has made her face worn and kind? What if the only way to know the truth is to make the imperfection plain?
I worry I am using my photography to tell a story about my life that isn't always true. I wonder if I am clicking away all the rough edges, only to make pictures that tell half truths of my raw, messy, beautiful life. How would things change if I used my post-processing skills to highlight all the places truth resides when things are anything but perfect?
Show me the photos where beauty shines in the absence of perfection. I want to see your real life--the one that celebrates what is true, no matter what.