Facets of ExistenceOne flawless California summer day, my uncle and I went on a photography excursion. In the moments I spent with my uncle my whole vision of photography changed. He explained to me that photography is the art of capturing something beautiful that ordinary people pass by day to day. Every time I take a photograph his words cross my mind. I live my daily life with viewfinders instead of eyes; always looking for that small, touching detail that goes unnoticed. Photographers are special people. I am able to capture not only a physical being but also an emotion. That emotion is instilled in a tangible object, a photograph. I can look at a photograph I once took and start laughing, crying, and sometimes both. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essayA photograph evokes a memory; a specific time and place for the object. When I look at the first photo I took of my father and his father, I am reminded of how heavy the camera was and too big for my four-year-old fingers to grasp. It was so hard to lift that I almost cut off both people's heads in the final product. Photographs hold memory and emotion, but there are times when the only purpose a photograph has is to be aesthetically pleasing. This selection doesn't go unnoticed, but it's best served as a collection of classified photos in a coffee table book for guests to keep busy. Photography is deceptively simple, yet the philosopher Roland Barthes, in a selection from his book Camera Lucida, does not see photography as such. It simplifies photography to the extreme, to its purest form, the truth. Photography is much more. When I take out my camera on a sunny day I don't look for specific objects that can surely instill certain feelings in the viewer. I feel that the emotion of a photograph comes from the photographer. If the photographer is touched by the situation, the photograph will transfer that affection. A photograph is meant to connect with the world, to show what others cannot see. Unconscientious people become aware of the outside world due to the effortless transition of emotions from a photograph. Barthes somewhat agrees with the raw truth of emotion, but outwardly does not support the emotional aspect of photography. The fact that “the essence of a photograph is to ratify what it represents” can be interpreted as inadvertently confirming the emotion in photographs (3). However, Barthes does not mention any connection between emotions and photography. Emotion is overly complicated to fit its simplification of photographs. Happiness is one of the easiest feelings to experience through a photograph. It's easy for a smile to transcend a piece of Kodak paper and reach an external face. Taking happy photographs is also a simple task. It's easy to take a snapshot of a person opening a birthday present or excited to see an old face. The simple nature of taking the photograph and the joy it brings transcends paper. However, my photographs serve a broader purpose. I use alone time as an opportunity to meditate. Being alone with my thoughts, walking in the sun, noticing hidden beauty is my ideal time. Due to the calming nature of my walks, my photos exude tranquility. The lonely chair covered with fallen leaves exudes a welcoming warmth. The open face, striking wicker wear provides atired comfort, inviting a tired stranger to sit down. The highlighted sunlight impresses the unaware with amazement. As if a person's soul continued to rest in that chair. Overall a sense of comfort and peace calms the viewer, releasing the stress inherent in everyday life. This is the meaning of photography, transferring emotions. Photography provides an outlet for my daily stress, and in turn, I create placid photographs that can bring other people into a more peaceful atmosphere. A photograph can tell you everything that happened in an instant. That power has the ability to overwhelm someone while looking at a photo. Many of my photographs capture special moments. When I look at a photo I travel back in time, to that specific moment, feeling each of my senses come to life. This ability is incredibly powerful and is “yet superior to anything the human mind can or may have conceived to assure us of reality” (Barthes 4). Truth is the bare minimum of a photograph, while memories are a small falsification of that truth. Photographs help to restart the mind from memory. Yet Barthes believes that photographs "are never, in essence, a memory" and that "in reality they block memory and quickly become a counter-memory" (6). The idea is that when examining photographs of the past, a person does not actually experience the memory. Memory does not exist. It's just instilled in that solitary photograph. If this is true, then why are photographs often used to start conversations about childhood memories? Why do many people experience a “leap forward” in memory when they look at a childhood photograph? I would not be able to remember the distinct details of my many travels without the use of my photographs. My memory is fuzzy, yet with the help of a photo I can remind myself that the Eiffel Tower is lit up every night or that there was once a blizzard in Issaquah. I love my travels and enjoy reporting them with countless photographs. The most common way a photograph is enhanced is through memories of holidays and travel. There's a reason why families constantly take photos of children at birthday parties, plays, musical events, so they can bring back specific memories years later. Very often, when a family remembers, there is a photo album. This is not a coincidence. The presence of photographs allows the memory to be started. It may be that the memory is invented, but an example from the photograph remains true. Photography allows a person to embark on a journey. When I look at a photograph I have the feeling of traveling back in time to that moment. There is no better feeling than being able to relive the “good times”. Photographs enhance the experience. Looking at the vibrant photograph of the Eiffel Tower, I transcended to a bygone time when I traveled with my high school orchestra. I can feel the soft, crisp wind of the evening and hear the vendors trying to sell wine to couples trying to live in the romance that is Paris. I remember anxiously waiting, sitting on the damp green lawn, for the lights of the tower to shine and for my chance to capture the moment. It seemed like an eternity. I don't only remember the Eiffel Tower but I also move in the memories of those wonderful ten days in Europe. The enjoyment of traveling in a city dependent on a language I knew nothing about. The seemingly random concerts that the orchestra played, the infinite number of churches, the street people who the chaperones warned the students not to approach. These quick memories all come from a seemingly simple and verifiable photograph. Photographs can be.