Photography Can Take You Places Fear Would Never

An Irrational Fear

For as long as I can remember, I've had an irrational fear of bees, wasps, hornets, you name it. Anything that flies and stings is not okay with me. I've never been viciously attacked by a swarm, or had some terrible allergic reaction. I've never driven off the road swatting at one in my car or accidentally stepped on one barefoot playing outside. Sure, I've been stung a few times but there's no deep-seated trauma I've yet to overcome from my youth, and I have no real reason to justify this fear other than to say, I don't like being stung by things that can fly. Not all that unreasonable, right?

People who know me well, know this about me. They've seen me flee an outside patio dining table when a couple landed on my sandwich. Or dart across the yard when one took aim for my face (why is it always the face??). I've thought about taking one of those bee-keeping classes on a vacation to see if I could overcome it. Nope...changed my mind.

I know we need bees. They're hugely important for our natural ecosystem and we literally couldn't live without them...I just don't need them flying into and stinging my face. Is that too much to ask??

The Scene I Would Have Normally Fled

There come times in our lives where we have to muster the courage to do something we're afraid of because we want what's just beyond the fear more than we're afraid of the consequences we may face encountering it. When I proposed to Katie in front of her family on the beach (and with two strangers awkwardly lingering close by), I was terrified...I could barely get the words out. But I wanted her to say "Yes" more than I was afraid of vulnerably dropping to a knee in the sand and popping the question. Luckily she said "yes"...if not, that would have probably ended my courageous streak then and there. So, thanks Katie...I owe you one.

Then there are the things we do in pursuit of a goal or while on a journey. To some, it may seem irrational. Like, running 4-5 days a week for hours at a time to prepare for a marathon. Or climbing a dangerous mountain just to see the view from the top. Or chasing around and stalking a 2-inch long Great Black Wasp as it feeds on flower nectar in your local park. In any normal scenario, these aren't things you do for the sake of doing them. In some cases, fear would have you avoid the situation all together. And in this scenario, this pterodactyl sized flying house of pain is something I would have normally stayed at least 20-feet away from (possibly more). Just seeing this thing in-person would normally have had me take the long way home. It was huge. Jet black. And darted from flower to flower with a speed that would be hard to outrun and a thumping buzz sound that could haunt my dreams if it decided to land on my face (again, always the face!!) and take me for it's next victim. I've since done some research on this wasp and it turns out it's practically harmless to humans, and its sting (if it even bothers to sting) really isn't too bad. But that's besides the point.

Closer Than I'd Ever Been

I was early in my photography journey and I REALLY wanted a photo of this wasp I'd discovered during a walk through Lincoln Park in Chicago. I'd recently taken an online course on macro photography, primarily focusing on insects and flowers and this combo was too good to pass up. So, I observed from a safe distance and tried to get a sense of how and when it moved from flower to flower. How long it usually stayed put once it landed, and to see if was moving in any particular direction or if its choice of flower was random. After a few minutes of watching, it was time to move in for the shot. Its massive, harmless stinger be damned!!

I took a few nervous shots from about 10-feet away and quickly realized I wasn't close enough. You couldn't make out any interesting details. So, I steadied my nerves, wiped the sweat from my brow, and got to within just a few feet of this flying widow-maker, (of katydids it turns out...not people), and fired a burst of shots. Shifting left to right, focusing on depth of field and composition, and trying my best to get a backlit shot that captured the sun illuminating the flower petals. I’m sure to anyone watching close by, I looked like a lunatic. But I was determined to get the shot.

It was hard to tell on the camera's rear LCD, but this time I was confident I got a good shot. And as a bonus, I lived to tell the tale. When I arrived back home and began to process the images, I was thrilled at how detailed this image turned out. Especially when compared to the first shots I took from about 10-feet away. You can clearly see details like yellow pollen clinging to the wasp's underbelly and wings and that it's in the process of drinking nectar from this flower. This ended up being the first photo of mine that I had professionally printed and is still on display in my office, even though at face-value, it's just a nice photo of a wasp on a flower.

When the Lens Becomes a Mirror

This experience with the Great Black Wasp in Lincoln Park was a turning point in my interest in photography. I began to realize after this moment, that photography was a pursuit that could take you places you'd never go otherwise. Either out of fear or just a lack of purpose. Photography has had me standing on the shores of a partially frozen Lake Michigan at dawn several times to get a mid-winter sunrise photo of Chicago’s frigid skyline, or hike miles into Grand Teton's Cascade Canyon just to capture epic scenes of a land carved by ancient ice, or hike to the peak of Griffith Park in LA to get a shot of the Griffith Observatory and Los Angeles together at night. It's taken me to the heights of the Colorado Rockies to photograph skiers racing by in the snow, to Iceland to stand soakingly close to the the base of Skógafoss to capture a rainbow in the waterfall, and to abandoned automotive factories in Detroit to document the decay of a once great American city. It's helped me build trust with a small business owner who invited me into her shop to photograph her and her salon when she wanted to promote her business online.

Having a camera in hand is like having a permission slip to engage the world in a different way. Permission to visit places you wouldn't go otherwise and at times you never would. And to see things you once feared (i.e giant murderous wasps or hanging out in abandoned [possibly haunted] factories in Detroit) as insignificant obstacles when compared to the opportunity to make an incredible photo. This understanding of the power of a camera in-hand was a turning point in my photographic journey.

Like they say, "the cameraman never dies." So, grab a camera, go out in the world, and see it for yourself.