HD is for Artists. I Take Photos for the Memories.

I’ve never thought “oh man if only there were more pixels in this image”, “why is the colour not true to life?!” “Oh the hue-manity!”

HD is for Artists. I Take Photos for the Memories.

I have an iPhone 6. The camera is by no means a bad one, but compared to newer phones or professional cameras the photos are, objectively, a bit shit.

I’m fine with that.

When I take a picture of my kids, I can tell it’s them. They can tell it’s them. In 40 years, if they want to show their kids how they grew up, what they looked like and the things they did, I’m pretty sure those kids are gonna be able to see how they have their mum’s eyes or their grandad’s nose (sorry about that, by the way).

Isn’t that enough?

Thinking of pictures from my childhood, or even black and white images from my parent’s childhood: I get a grainy, slightly off colour 4x5 box. You’d need a magnifying glass to zoom in.

I’ve never thought “oh man if only there were more pixels in this image”, “why is the colour not true to life?!” “Oh the hue-manity!”

The questions I ask are more along the lines of “why am I wearing my sisters clothes?” or “what was dad thinking with that moustache?”. It’s the content of the images that matters. The familiar faces and places that stir up emotion.

And those blurry edges? Orange daylight? They’re a bonus. They tell part of the story. They’re half the fun.

I am lucky though, my wife is one of the artists. Her Google Pixel, DSLR and photographic talents put my photos to shame. Those are the ones we enlarge and frame, the ones that we use for sharing our story online and some of the best damn photos I’ve ever seen. Thanks Becs, as long as I have you, and I can keep buying replacement batteries for my iPhone I’ll keep taking photos for the memories.

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