The World Through My Lens
I was a diligent photographer in my early 20s. Now I'm ready to dust off the DSLR and take another shot.
The other day, out of nowhere, I got nostalgic for Germany. When I picture myself there, I’m hiking the picturesque hills outside Wehrda, a borough of the city of Marburg where I spent six months living during my study abroad semester in college.
From my dorm, there was a well-kept hiking trail that wove past homes, through small farms, into a pine forest, and up a steep hill. I hiked it at least once a week — sometimes several when I had the time.
There were three massive wind turbines at the top that towered over the landscape. I’d admire their ginormous blades and take in the sight of other hikers plodding by or throwing things to their dogs in the open field. Sometimes I’d sit in the grass and take in the Sound-of-Music-esque view over the heartland of Hessen, feeling like nothing could ever hurt me.
There’s scant to be heard up there except the woosh of the wind turbines and the occasional flock of birds. Being there in the spring, I often got a whiff of manure from a nearby farm. It was both glorious and unassuming, and to me it was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.
Craving a trip down memory lane last week, I went looking for my old photos. But I was annoyed to find that neither my computer nor my phone have them, since I moved all my memories to a hard drive a few years ago for safe keeping. It’s not even that difficult to access the hard drive, but I decided to go the path of least resistance and scroll through my old (abandoned) Instagram page instead.
Back in 2018, I was way more diligent about posting on Instagram whenever I did something cool. Social media was less serious those days, but I felt obligated to present my life in a way that seemed perfect to impress my friends and show people how much fun I was having.
So when I went to Germany, I was on top of my #content game. I brought my DSLR with me and took photos of just about everything I found notable (which was most things). Not every photo I took made it to the grid, but the highlights certainly did.
While my motivations for posting on Instagram may have been a little selfish, I’m really thankful that 20-year-old me was diligent about documenting and sharing the things going on in her life. I feel spoiled now to be able to scroll through my feed for an instant dopamine boost of good memories. I certainly knew how to curate my highlight reel for maximum jealousy — and, unknowingly, future me’s enjoyment.
Also, my photography was pretty dang good. Definitely not professional-level photography by any means, but I was skilled at capturing the essence of a place in a way that makes it feel frozen in time. The photos I took back then still make me feel something today, like I’ve been absorbed back into a memory. I can look at one of my old photos and feel the sunshine, or the breeze, or smell the smells that permeated the place I once visited.
During college, everything felt novel, and I had an innate drive to document everything through writing and photography. I was an artist and a storyteller, and I saw it as my purpose to tell the story of my own life in as much detail as possible.
But both my writing and photography practices dwindled after my junior year. My dad died while I was overseas in Germany, and after that all my creative energy vanished into the void of grief. I kept taking photos, but with less gusto. And then after I graduated college in 2019 and got my first office job, life took on a grey malaise that only worsened when Covid hit in 2020.
That brings me roughly to today. I’ve recovered my writing practice in no small part due to this Substack. But I’ve been wanting to get back into photograpy lately. I take a lot of pictures on my phone, but they’re mostly selfies and snapshots of Ryan doing things.
My philosophy behind taking pictures is more utilitarian these days rather than artistic, and it makes looking back through recent photo albums less exciting. Seeing my old Instagram page made me want to dust off my camera and give it another shot (literally).
The pictures I took in my early 20s had a lot more flair than my modern-day phone photos do. They were bright, energetic, and immersive. Having a DSLR made me more mindful of lighting and color, and photography felt like a creative challenge rather than a chore. I had fun making photos — it was an act of appreciation for life and a love note to my future self.
While I get my bearings again, I want to share with you all some pictures I took back in college. Maybe you won’t find these as impressive as I do, but each one brings me joy and highlights the everyday moments that still strike me as beautiful.
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I’ve had a similar trajectory with my DSLR. I was an avoid photographer from 2014-2019. I even got some photojournalism assignments. But for various reasons too long for a comment section, I fell out of love with photography a bit.
Then, in the past few years, I’ve been getting back into it, but it doesn’t feel quite the same using my phone’s camera (even though it has a really good camera). There’s less intentionality about it. When you’re constrained by how we many photos you can fit on an SD card, you tend to be more thoughtful.
I have been wanting to break out my DSLR again but it’s hard to make it a priority. Whenever I do get back to it, I’ll definitely write a substack post about it.
Thanks so much for writing and sharing these photos from your college days. I love seeing your unique visual POV.