“Collecting tall grass and rocks, racing down the hill and climbing back up again, marching along the old torn up train tracks with the sun setting behind us, searching for ladybugs, pretending that a bad guy is hiding in the grassy field below us. These are the things I want to remember about these times with her. And they are anything but black and white to us.”
I love black and white images, for so many reasons. When the colour is stripped from a photo you see more than just the subject and the location. You see the emotion in the image, the moment, a story. Everything looks different in black and white. There are no distractions. Sometimes it makes a bright photo moody. It’s classic.
Often a photo will scream to me that it needs to be converted to black and white. It can’t explain it, it just happens. Other times I am torn between loving an image in colour and black and white, and I can’t decide which is better because each is special in its own way.
I love being able to change a photograph just by taking away the colour, to create something completely new and different. These moments mean a lot to me and I love seeing them in black and white.