Macro Beauty

Jennette, a dedicated macro photographer, invests her heart and soul into capturing the intricate details of small subjects. Her relentless pursuit of tiny creatures and objects, whether in gardens, forests, or her backyard, is a testament to her unwavering passion for her chosen profession.

What truly distinguishes Jennette in her macro photography is not just her patience but also her singular perspective. Her images of insects, flowers, and other miniature wonders unveil a hidden realm of beauty and complexity, exposing the delicate patterns of the Monarch butterfly’s wings, the translucent petals of a dew-covered flower deep within the forest, and the intricate structures of tiny insects she discovers locally or on her various trips around the globe.

As Jennette’s portfolio grew, so did her reputation. Her work was featured in nature magazines, art galleries, and online publications, earning her recognition and admiration from fellow photographers and nature enthusiasts who often compared her photographs to those from BBC Earth’s Planet Earth series.

One day, while exploring a local nature reserve, Jennette stumbled upon a rare and elusive species of orchid that few people had ever seen. With her macro lens, she captured the exquisite details of the flower, from its velvety light purple petals to its detailed markings, creating a series of breathtaking photographs that showcased the orchid’s innate beauty. Jennette clicked through the pictures on her camera and was pleased that she had taken some pretty good ones. She then envisioned accepting an award for Best Photography, thanking her family and friends for their endless support. Snapping out of her Photography Oscars daydream, Jennette quickly gathered her bearings and continued into the deepest parts of the reserve, searching for anything else worth photographing.

Jennette’s macro photography is not merely a medium for sharing the hidden beauty of the natural world; it is a catalyst for a profound shift in perspective. Her work inspires people to appreciate the often-overlooked wonders under their noses, urging them to slow down, look closely, and marvel at the extraordinary details around us. We only have one planet to call home, and unless we all become billionaires and shell out the money to ride in a rocket to Mars, we must cherish and appreciate the blue and green marble that is Earth.

Working Hours

I have been doing freelance work for quite some time now. It was good in the beginning. Getting to set my own hours and getting paid every month. Though this line of work can only get you so far if you didn’t have enough saved up in the first place.

“My office is looking for an in-house photographer,” Tina said. “Really?” I asked. “What kind of photos do they want to take?” Tina shrugged. “Just photos of the fruits and vegetables they sell to potential customers and for the commercials and marketing stuff,” I thought about what she said. I enjoy working as a freelancer, but again, it can’t help pay the bills, so I need a steady source of income.

“Okay, I’ll consider applying for it,” I said. A hopeful look then appeared on my face. “Could you maybe put in a good word for me with your bosses so they have a good impression of me?” Tina hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “Are you comfortable working from 9 to 5 every day?” I scoffed. “Of course! I like that I get to wake up at nine and then leave the office at five!” Tina then gave me a confused look. “Uh, Kathrine, that’s not what I meant.” I blinked at her. “What else could you have meant? 9 to 5 means you wake up at nine, go to work and then go home at 5. Everyone knows that!” Tina let out a sigh as she processed my words.

“Nobody thinks that, Kathrine. Working from nine to five does not mean you get up at nine,” she explained. “You have to get to the office by 9am and then leave at 5pm.” I blinked at her again. “What?! I have to be there by nine?! Who came up with that stupid rule?!” Tina sighed again. “It’s not a rule, per se,” she said. “It’s invented by the American Labour Unions in the 1800s and was mainstreamed by Henry Ford in the 1920s.” My shoulders dropped at the prospect of having to get up early. “You’ll still put in a good word for me, right?” I asked. Tina didn’t respond immediately, and I thought my chances were not good.

“I’ll try to put in a good word for you with my bosses,” she said at last. “Though it does not guarantee that the job is yours. You still have to make a good impression at the interview.” Elated, I hugged my friend in gratitude. If I get the job, me and Tina will be coworkers and friends!

Photograph

She looked out at the grandeur before her, like all the oceans of the world had come together to create a superstorm. A giant wave rose up from the depths and over the spot where she stood with her camera in her hands. The icy wind blew at her face, sending her long, ink-black hair flying every which way. Her heart raced as she gazed at the angry waves, torn between exhilaration and fear.

“I have to get that photograph,” she murmured. “It will be the greatest work of my career.” She mused as she slowly made her way down the side of the hill, making sure that she doesn’t lose her footing and fall onto the jagged rocks below. Pausing for a brief moment, she held the camera to her eyes and began framing the shot. The beauty of it all was unlike anything she had ever seen in her years as a professional photographer. Nobody does art better than Mother Nature. She thought as she turned the lens to tighten the focus. Pressing the shutter button, she finally captured the rawness of the sea. Smiling to herself, she turned to climb back up the rocks when suddenly, she tripped over a rock, making her lose her footing and fell forward headfirst. Upon instinct, she raised her arms high to protect the camera from being damaged, but her efforts were in vain.

Her head hit one of the rocks with a resounding thud, rendering her unconscious as blood trickled out from the wound. The camera flew from her hands and landed a few metres away, shattered beyond repair. Waves crashed onto the shore, oblivious to the tragedy that occurred. Her once brown eyes slowly darkened as life ebbed away from her. What started out as a quest to preserve a breath-taking scene turned out to be a journey of greed. She let the prospect of fame and fortune get into her head and in the end, paid the ultimate price. It is said that one must dedicate their entire lives to perfecting their craft. She has definitely lived up to that. 

Dreaming in Gold

Walk along the carpet of red,

Into a grand theatre.

Lights flashing everywhere,

Frenzied photographers scrambling for photos.

Sit in a plush, theatre seat,

Wearing something borrowed.

Step onto the stage when they call your name,

Holding that golden statue in your hands.

Thank those that got you here,

With gratitude in your eyes.

It’s always a night to remember,

For we all dream in gold.

Picture Perfect

It was a beautiful, cloudless sunny day. A pretty young photographer walks along the sandy beach, hoping to take some perfect photos to post on her Instagram page. She grasped her camera tightly in her hands, her light brown eyes scanning the beach for something to take a picture of.

“Let’s see…what can we take a picture of?” She muttered to herself as she continued to scan the wide open beach, hoping to find something to capture on film. After what seemed like forever of searching, the young photographer saw something orange-pink by some rocks. She walked over and saw a shiny, coral pink conch shell. Overcome with excitement, she almost dropped her camera onto the sand.

“This shell is a perfect start! Let’s whip out the ol’ camera and snap a pic!” The young photographer turned her camera on, adjusted the lens and the white balance and zoomed in enough to get the perfect shot. “Steady, steady…and click!” Just minutes after taking the shell picture, a strong wind blew strands of her hair every which way, causing the young photographer to become slightly annoyed.

“Should’ve tied my hair up before coming to the beach if I knew that this would happen.” The young photographer muttered as she brushed her hair out of her face. She then accessed her camera’s album and searched for the photo that she had just taken. When she found it, she smiled to herself and said, “Perfect.”

The Photograph

I take a lot of pictures. Mostly ones of things found in nature like flowers, birds and animals or plates of delicious food. Though I have forgotten the places where I took the pictures, there’s one that I hold close to my heart.

It was a warm, sunny afternoon. I was strolling through a large park with my beloved, drinking in the peace and quiet. I bent down to smell the flowers while he took out his camera and began snapping photos of everything in the park. I then took his camera out of his hands and ran as fast as I could, with him chasing behind me. I would’ve taken to the skies, but I can’t risk dropping the camera that he had saved up to buy.

I then got an idea. I want to take a picture of him. He doesn’t like taking pictures since he is not, according to him, very photogenic. I disagree, but there’s no use wasting my breath trying to convince him otherwise. I waited until he stopped to catch his breath, leaning handsomely against a tree trunk. I took the camera, focused in on him and clicked. I’m not a professional photographer but I did pretty well for my first ever photo. It showed my love leaning against the tree, his deep brown eyes closed as he breathed. His chin pointed a tad upward so you can see every bit of his masculine features.

I kept the photo hidden from him so that I won’t get an earful about it. I kept it even after we decided to end our relationship. I guess it was that we just don’t have that spark anymore, that jolt of electricity running through your veins as you set eyes upon one another. I suppose it was for the best, I’m better off alone anyway, but I will always have a piece of him with me every time I look at the photograph.