Snapping pics vs making memories

Around the same time I started mulling over a drastic career/life change, my brother took a deep breath and leapt into the unknown ... and came out the other side as a photographer. A really good one, at that.

From the time we were kids, he was the musician, I was the artist. I couldn't hold a note to save my life, but he played the guitar with grace, was first trombone in the school band, won awards at music competitions and even met Liona Boyd. He played Spanish Romance at my wedding, and made me cry - in a good way. For once. You know what brothers can be like.

Who knew there was this whole other visually creative personality just dying to get out?

So now we talk shop, peruse each other's online albums and exchange messages, trying to out-praise one another. But he's a pro at this. I don't know my aperture from a hole in the ground, while he fiddles with mo-pods, two-way flash bouncers and lens hoods.

I dink around with a camera.
He takes photographs.

He claims that he takes pictures the same way a baby slings diaper contents: throw everything on the wall and see what sticks. I beg to differ. I think he's amazing. And not just cuz he's my brother.

I'm immensely proud of him for taking a chance and trying something new, even in the face of personal obstacles that need to be overcome. Instead of just sitting around saying "what if", he pursued his dream with passion and perseverance. Now, here he is.

Cheers to you, bro.