Herein are the six reasons why I could never be a food photographer. I might, later on, give you a baker’s dozen reasons why I still come back to food as a photographic subject, but those occupational hazards have a trail I can scent.
I went to the local store today for something I needed and much of what I didn’t need. I came upon the half price sale. What’s an extra day for a valentine?
“Be mine,” I said to the donuts and then set out to create.
I had an idea to break one of the hearts into pieces, but it didn’t work out so well. I’m always the one who gets the broken heart, anyway, but only because I wear my heart on my sleeve. I was compelled to eat what remained of the failed heart and then I had another one to even things out. From now on, I wear my heart on my lips, smothered in frosting and caramel filling.
Getting back to the original point: I can never be a food photographer. It is too much of an emotional experience and I would have to eat everything up because I’m too involved.