Most every Saturday from May through October, Leah and I spend part of our morning at our local Farmers’ Market. On those days, with predictable regularity, I can expect that three things will happen:--We will shop for produce.
--We will visit with friends and neighbors.
--I will make myself miserable by trying to find photographs.
Our town’s Farmers’ Market is very cool--a feast for the eyes and the senses. It’s a coming-together of happy people who are listening to live music and shopping for fresh, organic local produce and crafts. A good feeling of community is in the air. After 30-some years as a photographer, it seems to me that--if I give even half an effort--I should be able to gather pleasing images with my camera in the same way Leah and I place tomatoes and greens in our shopping basket.
Unfortunately, I generally come away feeling like my pictures are not good enough.
You see, Saturdays during Market season are also days when I am almost always booked to shoot a wedding. When I stop at the Farmers’ Market, my head is already in another place, my concentration and focus (pardon the pun) are on images I'll be making hours later.
This past weekend, however, was an exception. My Saturday was free. Leah and I bicycled to the Market. We visited. We filled our bike panniers with goodies. I pulled the snapshot camera from my jacket pocket and played photographic peek-a-boo with a cute, red-haired lass named Fiona who was riding around in her mother’s arms. It did macro images of the amazing color of rainbow chard.
Finally, I had a feeling I was at least beginning to find images that do justice to the event.
