For as long as I can remember I have had a camera. My grandmother gave me a 110-film camera when I was very young and I was hooked immediately. I could never snap enough pics of my family and cats and friends.
I often went on weekend kids camps with my church and my mum would buy me a 12 exposure roll of film for the occasion. I loved the anticipation as I waited for her to take them to the chemist for processing, the excitement when she finally collected them, the disappointment when half of them were underexposed or blurry or covered by a finger - and finally the satisfaction when I managed to get a good one.
But why so much emotion over a picture? Why does taking photos still get me excited all these years later? I think it’s a combination of a few things – sometimes familiarity, sometimes the need to document the details and mostly the chase to capture what I like to call the ‘money shot’.