Right Way Up

You can be steady in a position that was never built for you.
 
 
 
Right Way Up is what it looks like to stay steady in a position nobody built for you.
 
I made this on a trip, early in my photography. I'd gone for a walk with the camera in my hands and saw a bright red ladybug among the leaves, a sharp pop against all those greens. I didn't have a macro lens. I'm not sure I knew what one was. I didn't have a tripod. I held still, focused by hand on a handheld SLR, and worked out how to get close enough to fill the frame without being too close for the lens. The ladybug is gripping the very edge of a leaf, upside down, with its black spots and shining shell, and the greens behind it fade softly to darkness.
 
When I saw it on a bigger screen, I didn't think much of it. It was fine. The focus had landed better than I'd expected, and that was all. Years later I looked again and thought: hang on, what if I crop in? It was a very small change, and the ladybug suddenly had room to make its statement. What I'd missed at first was the one thing that makes the photograph: it's upside down, and it isn't struggling. It looks stable, even comfortable, challenging gravity. Had it been sitting the right way up on the leaf, I don't think I'd have kept it.
 
Right Way Up is for the times you're holding a position nothing was built around: the role, the room, the day that wasn't designed for you. You don't have to put everything back where it was. You only have to find the edge of something and hold. Upside down and right way up are only perspectives, and sometimes the unlikely angle is where you find what you need. Live with this ladybug long enough, and you may remember that you can be steady somewhere that was never made for you.