charles bridge © erin faith allen
Why do I love blurry photos so much?
If photography is an extension of the soul, am I just a big ball of blur inside, or is there more than meets the eye to taking and viewing blurry photos?
twilight © erin faith allen
I have been thinking about this during my wanderings in the hour between sunlight and moonlight. When photographing at night I shoot compulsively and haphazardly, engaging all of my senses – and especially my sixth. The blurry photos that result are indeed an extension of my soul, the core part of me that finds joy in letting the lens capture the imprints of time that is NOT linear. Beauty emerges in the moments in between, in the silence between words, in the unknown of an unanswered question, in the space of motion not illuminated by a synthetic flash of a camera. It exists all around us, waiting to drop into our awareness through any one of our senses in a movement of energy that is not always tangible. The open shutter of my camera simply observes the time that exists in ‘nonsensical’ squiggles and swooshes inside the rat race from point A to point Z.
walkway © erin faith allen
According to The Dictionary, blur is: to dim the perception or susceptibility of; make dull or insensible: The blow on the head blurred his senses.
I challenge that definition though, with one of my own. According to Erin, blur is: to slow down and observe the motion of grace; to soften the focus of the human lens and engage all senses with the magic that dangles in the air all around us: The blow to his head allowed him to enjoy a blissful new view of the world – which resulted from the blurring of his senses.
My soul is not a big, fat, blurry wad of ambiguity. It is plump and pleasant, with a penchant for layered compositions of time that exists between the lines.
the saint and the castle © erin faith allen
