(the cameras fell right there, in the middle of the road)
I haven't been taking pictures. To some of you, that may be a relief. My box of cameras (did I mention this already?) fell out of the moving truck and the contents were sowed across the intersection of Water and Market. Ironically, it is a corner I have photographed before. In the ensuing crises of work, housing, career, identity, and the various other issues that are plaguing my existence, the photography fell by the wayside (ha ha). I discovered when I moved that photography isn't just taking pictures, its organization. Especially film photography. Negatives need a place to live, where they can be easily retrieved. Prints need to go somewhere safe. Storage needs to be devoted to it. I had to throw away boxes of negatives and prints simply because I had no place to put them. I couldn't leave them in my parent's hallway, or in the KB's room. I didn't have the patience to sort through them. I wouldn't have known what to do with them. Photo-storage is yet another item to be tacked on my studio-housing wishlist.
In the meantime, maybe I'll find a digital camera in some gutter that still works.
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4 comments:
Throwing out negatives is painful. I still have mine from Photography 101, even thought they're just taking up space in my closet.
Digital is so much better in that regard.
"A digital camera in some gutter"
Nice summation of your disdain for the imperialistic tentacles of digital media! The new imperium has no hold on you.
One thing that might be a compromise is to take your negatives to a Target or photoshop of your choice and have them scanned. You could probably fit everything on a few CDs or DVDs.
Come over to the dark side...
You have a robust sense of humour no smashing of your cameras can destroy. I can only gasp in admiration. (And keep praying for some luck to come your way re job, home etc.) As for identity - you have that in spades.
Somewhat related:
At the exhibit of Eudora Welty photographs at the art museum that I blogged about a while ago, I learned something interesting about her. She took pictures until 1955; it was then that, while in Paris, she accidentally left her camera sitting on a park bench. Of course, it was gone by the time she realized it. Anyway, according to the museum placard she was so upset with herself for having done that that she never replaced the camera.
In the meantime, the Mrs. is taking a photography class this semester; they'll develop their first rolls on Monday . . .
And so it begins.
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