Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Few photos exist of me between my late teens and early forties. This was a result of entwined circumstances, some accidental, some cultivated: I didn't own a camera until fairly recently; I'm a bit of a lone-wolf; historically I never aligned myself with a group of friends who took a bunch of pictures, and anyway I tend to shy away from photo taking. For many years I reveled in what I identified semi-preciously as a maverick streak in me, a willfully contrary stance Against Photos. As is the case with many personal stances, this was born as much from defensiveness and uncertainty as from values and self-confidence Amy and I do not have children, who are a source of a generation of family photos and evolutionary exposure(s), and generally we don't feel compelled to take photos of each other, or of ourselves together, something we lament occasionally.