For a long time, photography meant walking. I would take a camera, go somewhere, wander around and see what I could find. The walking was almost as much a part of photography as the camera itself. Now that I can no longer walk, that part of photography has simply disappeared. I can’t stroll down a trail looking for something interesting, wander through a garden, or walk around a neighborhood until something catches my eye. There is a real loss in that, and pretending otherwise doesn’t make much sense. I miss the freedom of simply getting up and going.
But the camera is still here, and so are the things worth photographing. I’ve had to learn to look closer instead of farther. My backyard, the plants around the house, birds, flowers, food, and all the little ordinary things within reach have become my photographic territory. I may not be able to walk toward a photograph anymore, but I can still wait for one to come to me. Photography has changed for me, but it hasn’t ended. It has become less about where I can go and more about what I can still see.