“I don’t want to see anything but fuzz and veins,” yelled the photography instructor. ” We aimed, focused, held our breath and clicked ever so gently.
I imagined “fuzz and veins”as a diatribe this morning after reviewing some idle photos I had taken yesterday. The mind can be strange, including mine. Decades ago a drill sergeant had screamed short “sayings” intended to save my life in battle. I guess I am trying to turn a negative into a positive by substituting “fuzz and veins” for ” blood and guts” or something akin to finding courage in moments of fear. Regardless, “fuzz and veins” is easy to remember…a PTSD for photographers.
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