Laying next to our four month old watching him sleep peacefully, I thought, “my wife would take a brilliant picture of us right now!”. That wasn’t true at all, it being pitch black in the room and all, save for an over-eager street lamp awkwardly positioned outside our window. Second, I was somewhat skeptical about how well night-mode actually works on modern phones.
Gripes aside, my wife could be a professional photographer, she’s that good. she knows how to capture a moment, those wonderful seconds that are like distilled liquid diamond drops, invaluable. It’s something of an art and she is an artist. In contrast, I actively avoid taking pictures, I think the hanging around, posing to fit into a frame irritates me : which makes no sense of course because that for the most part is how you get a picture taken. I get restless and want to get on with the actual act of making memories as opposed to calcifying them on paper or a digital white screen.
I guess that also explains why I hate passport picture taking. It’s bad enough you can’t even look happy in any of the snaps but you have to fit your weird shaped head into an equally weird shaped oval, before being asked to sit still, while holding an impossibly uncomfortable position. It’s utterly exhausting.
My wife complained that I hadn’t taken very good pictures of her in comparison to the masterpieces she had taken. She pointed out the way I’d cut off a foot here, and not quite centred the shot there and completely botched that one. I have a much better phone than a year ago and while it has improved my photographic endeavours and not left them completely to my more competent wife, I have still found myself getting frustrated at the complaint that she simply doesn’t have enough photos with our infant son, who is looking more and more like a toddler each day.
I explained that helping her survive brutal breast feeding woes, sleep deprivation, washing baby bottles, changing nappies and keeping baby and mum well fed was a surprisingly physical and mentally exhausting challenge. The last thing that comes to mind is to get the perfect shot of what is often untempered chaos. And yet she always seemed to… a diamond in the midst of all the chaos. I agreed. There was always time, there has to be, because one day we won’t have the time because he’ll be all grown up.
It made me realise I hadn’t been as present as perhaps I had always prided myself on being. Perhaps that was the problem , pride. A presumption that he’ll be small for a little while longer and wasn’t I doing enough without setting up a mini photo shoot everytime a moment seemingly presented itself. Perhaps some of our son’s best moments were happening now and I was a little too in my head about the functioning day-to-day to notice him in all his budding glory…perhaps.
And so this was how I came up with the idea that night, looking at our infant son, who was currently wearing a 6-9 month baby grow and making it look good. He was already so big. What if I took one good picture a day? What if I took the perfect shot each day for a year, Just mother and child? I wouldn’t have to worry about not being in them because she already took so many photos of us anyway. At the bare minimum we would have 365 perfect pictures. Or better still, present. They would be present pictures. As present as I was with him, waiting for his mother, to come to bed.