I recently started reading The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennen Manning, drawn in of course by its connection to Rich Mullins. I've loved it so far, especially when Manning talks about never losing the wonder that is being alive.
In the book, there is a foreword by Michael W. Smith, a testimony by Rich Mullins and a foreward by Ben Pearson, a photographer friend of Rich and the man who took the photos for the cover of the book. I absolutely loved what Pearson had to say about his photographs:
For me, there always seems to be a generous amount of grace attached to the making of a good photograph – especially when it pertains to portraiture.
I can prepare by doing film and camera tests, researching and learning all I can about the subject, and arriving at the location early for a good assessment of the light. Preparation aside, if the person in front of lens chooses not to let down his or her guad and enter in, the session is over becfore it begins. Even with the most willing subeject, it still amazes me that when I raise the camera to my eye, I cam be overcome by a wave of helplessness and fear and wonder if any of these images will actually turn out.
Then something happens: The shutter releases, the first frame is exposed, and a certain amount of peace sets in. With that peace comes the realization that once again grace has been given for the journey. As the session winds to a close twenty, thirty, maybe forty rolls later, my helplessness and fear have disappeared, having been replaced (on my better days) with thankfulness and wonder.
In these two photographs, Brennen Manning and Rich Mullins are sitting outside on the steps. Outside seems to be an appropriate place for them. Outside you can breathe. It's not that being inside is especially bad; it's just easier to hide there. Society as a whole has become expert at concealment – a word that doesn't seem to be a part of Brennen or Rich's vocabulary. These two have a certain bond – a brotherhood of the transparent. They know, all too well, the secret handshake of the broken and so much more embrace that much more fully the arms or grace extended.
It was a honor to photograph them. My hope is that these two photographs will serve to remind us all that, because of God's faithfulness, grace is always given for the journey.
Ben Pearson
April 2, 2000
Pearson describes exactly how I feel when I walk into a shoot and even when I am shooting out here in the field. There's so much grace allowed for me by the people I photograph and by God as He comes in and works through my lens; speaks to the heart of my subject to let them know that I love them even though I just met them and as my camera opens up a dialogue between myself and I person I want to share God's love with.
I've been missing all that since New Year's Eve and I'm asking for grace from those of you who read this blog. I am desperate to worship God and honor Him through photography again. But to do that, I need support.
Click here to read more about my camera and how you can help me replace it.
