In photography – a medium I have discovered only recently, during some lucky moments of my collegiate career – I have found a freedom that I never found in writing or drawing, mediums I have had the privilege of dipping one or two fingers in. And so, despite my own reservations about whether the world actually needs yet another amateur photographer, I am working my way through the learning stages of this craft.

When comparing drawing and photography, Henri Cartier-Bresson is quoted as saying, "If, in making a portrait, you hope to capture the inner silence of a willing victim, it is very difficult to insert a camera between his shirt and his skin. With a pencil portrait, it is the draughtsman who must posses an inner silence."

Although this drew HCB away from photography, this difference is precisely what has drawn me to it. A photograph distances the author from the exchange: what shows up on the film is a step inside the door, the mind, and sometimes, the soul, of an entirely separate entity. It matters less what the photographer is thinking – the silence or lack thereof in his own eyes – because the image is of someone else's. There is a freedom in such portrayal that drawing does not allow you, although with this distance also comes an estrangement.

In photography, one must be humble, because it is the face, the body, the object that grants you the opportunity of capturing it, of revealing it; this exchange of trust can bind two strangers with unparalleled force. Thus, I believe in the humbling power of photography, in its limitless scope, breath, and potential. I believe that it entails a mutual leap of faith, that leaps of faith are some of the most rewarding moments in life, and that we should use them as tools in defining the difference between simplicity and mediocrity, always fighting for the greater of the two.

-- Natalia Martinez