why I photograph love
Sunday, May 29th, 2022
Photograph by Madeleine Dalkie
To me, love is everywhere.
Romantic I know, but let me elaborate.
Love, for me, is rooted in observation, in curiosity. In acceptance. In gratitude. Love is being present enough to notice the thing, to celebrate it for exactly what it is and to thank it for its unique presence in the world, for simply existing in all of its perfect and brave authenticity.
I pass a flower blooming on the edge of the city sidewalk, its delicate roots intertwining with concrete. It is alone and already I wish it had friends close by, but in this moment it has me. The pale yellow petals fold into an intricate maze, holding bees like pillowy clouds as they drop in to say hello with a kiss. How it shares its sweet gift with another so generously. I smile at its beauty, at the way it allows the warm breeze to rush across it before setting into stillness once again. Even though a hundred dirty shoes pass by and threaten to crush it in their hurriedness, it has bloomed where it was planted (nature forever teaching us about resiliency). I feel happy even though this flower has not done anything for me- it has not given me a present on my birthday, nor ran an errand on my behalf during a busy time. It has not complimented me on my new haircut. What I feel for it doesn’t really have anything to do with me at all. It simply exists, as it is, and my day is made all the more wonderful for it. An act of love.
I think I found love everywhere starting at an early age because I needed to. I couldn’t find it at home, no matter how badly I wanted to. Instead of comfort, I found fear and instead of acceptance, shame. Instead of love, my heart broke about a thousand times. I was told, often, that there was no love to be found in me either, that I did not possess anything lovable in my small innocent body. I was told that I would have to try really hard to become someone different, someone that could earn love one day, maybe. This person who was supposed to love me before I even entered this life could not see all the love around her and blamed me for its absence. So I found love everywhere else to remind myself that it existed, and I let it surround me. I would run barefoot across the grass, reaching the pond with wet cheeks, the quiet of dusk wrapping me up like a soft blanket. I would watch as a fish leapt fearlessly into the air for the mosquito hovering above. And if the mosquito escaped, the fish would leap again, trusting in itself, believing in its ability to survive. An act of love.
Over the years, I reassured myself that I was worthy of love. This was harder to believe at times, or with certain people. People that want the rose but not the thorn, so to speak. People that want the ease of loving the pretty thing without the effort of loving the thing that truly needs the love. I tried to show only my pretty things and although my soul was craving love, my behaviour was merely seeking approval, something that very weakly resembles love. It took me many years to be brave and to show another the cracks, the darkness, the still open wound— and ask, “but can you love this too?” For me, bravery was knowing that while not everyone would be able to answer “yes”, I would still be okay in the end because I answered “yes” to myself. An act of love.
They say what you do is not who you are and while I tend to agree, I find those things inextricably linked in me. Photography is what I do, but love is who I am and love is there in every photograph I take. Capturing everyday moments of love has become my career, but observing them was always my passion, my reason to hope, my lifeline to joy. I am so grateful for all the couples, families and souls who have welcomed me in to see them, to get to know them and to let them shine exactly as they are. It has been my greatest act of love to believe in its very existence and when I am behind my camera, I see that it is possible, that it is abundant, and that it is more wonderful than I ever dreamed.