When I was small, really small, my father had a beautiful camera. This camera lived in a smart brown leather case and had an external light meter. I used to play with the light meter and badger my father to let me have a go shooting. He usually, sensibly, didn’t give in to my demands. When I was 6 years old, I received a free Supasnaps Snapit camera and one windy day I took my first proper photos as my father, godfather and I flew my kite on the Downs.
For my big 1.6. my parents asked me what I would like for my birthday. I told them I wanted a camera. They bought me this 1973 Minolta SRT303. It’s heavy. It’s clunky. It’s manual. It’s pick-pocket-proof. It’s fantastic. From then on I was experimenting. And enjoying.
Last week I decided to go for it, to make my photography more than just my hobby. Why not? My 36 year old Minolta and I get along famously so I don’t need an excuse to practice a lot more. This year I’m going to buy a digital SLR and a large aperture lens (I don’t do flash), learn photoshop and practice. Lots.
There, I’ve told you all now, so there’s no going back. It’s my dream job and I’ll never know if I can do it unless I try.