My High School Senior Thesis: 1997

Lately I have been reading a lot about blogging. Why we blog, the purpose of a blog and the meaning behind "the blog." What I found is that these photography blogs or any blog for that matter are all personal reflections of it's creator. The writer, the critique, the sports enthusiast and of course the photographer.

I rarely blog about myself and in the course of looking through a old box I found my senior thesis from high school. A collection of silver-gelatin photographs accompanied by a brief synopses of each image. Back then this was a awarding winning collection that helped me get into Ohio University but now it makes me giggle and laugh. The photos presented in the portfolio seem so mediocre. Some over-exposed, some under-exposed. The lighting has much to be desired and some are just to hilarious for words. I guess what caught me about this is that the writing seems to be brilliant and quite inspirational. At 17, I was ready for anything. The world was my oyster. But as the years have passed and I have dappled in every aspect of the business I find myself back where I started. Telling stories and capturing moments. I feel the same way about my photography now as I did fourteen years ago. Of course my technique has just gotten better. A lot better. But I am still expressing myself as a artist, capturing moments as they unfold and enjoying every moment of it.

Below are a few excerpts from the thesis: "A Photographic Collection In Writing" By Laura Witherow. May 1997. A constant reminder of why I love what I do.

• I take photographs for the mere joy of making a personal statement about my world. I do not usually have my camera on hand at the exact moment that I wish I did, but I shoot what I know best: my enviornment, my friends and my way of life. As a whole my photos are optimistic. Beauty, personal relationships, love and friendship seem to interest me more than criticism, protest and ugliness. I work best with the simple traditional themes that surround me.
• As a photographer I am clearly present, but less as a intruder than a silent celebrant.
• The pictures on these pages beguile one with their realness and simplicity, for they have all the freshness of snapshots. They tell of things we have all known and experienced. We share the excitement and beauty, joy and abandonment and the strength two people find in each other. Some remind us of a familiar joy, others recall a forgotten sadness. But all are lit with a tenderness that asks our own response.