This type of photography is not for everybody. A single image can not appeal universally - nothing can. Joy is a general emotion, its causes are personal. Nothing is universal.
Religious messages of fraternal love are disputed most of all. Romantic love is found and codified in some varying state of agreed-upon functional contention. To be wrong when in this kind of love is only to adjust the intensity slightly from this mutual state, before the same has yet occurred to your beloved another.
Everywhere there is a lingering romantic contract, always in a state of renegotiation. No apparent end to the trifles, the tilting towards and away from an ever-elusive unhappiness. Until others' happiness and joy troubles you no more. Leaping is the word.
You can sometimes discern what sort of person a photographer is by noticing what they look towards - what they frame, how they frame it, what they omit, whether they apologize for noticing lives other than their own, how much they confess of process, the dangers they have taken for you, the caution, the assumptions of eye, how overt the invitation to look, to what extent there is compulsion to explain, to verify the eye is drawn to what is most hoped to be seen, all an enactment and exercise, the desire to receive by giving. Wet cetera.
There is danger and joy in saving the way that you look at others, rechanting prayers from the past, conducting spiritual favors for the spirits, accepting the blame for what makes you happy.
Fuck it all; at most a splash,
outbursts writ in liquid, this
sinking
a bowyer,
a fletcher,
this arrowsmith
missed
.
