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[08 Feb 2010|09:20am] |
A very good friend who once saw my Holga asked why, since I have a digital SLR, I would bother using such a camera. Actually, I think he may have referred to my plastic camera & my collection of disposables as pieces of junk because he's the sort of person to word it that way.
I think that many people around me would ask that though - why, given that I have a fairly decent digital camera would I ever rely on such relatively crappy film cameras like the disposable.
This last weekend I spent a few hours scanning old photos & maybe I will put one or two up on my website. One even included a photo I took at age eleven and looking at it now I can appreciate it more than I would have ever imagined years ago. While scanning the photos, though, I was overwhelmed by just how much I missed film. That longing for a medium increases when looking back at a recent history which has begun to erase the access to film - from companies stopping the production of film cameras to Polaroid announcing that it would no longer make the instant film that made Polaroid 'Polaroid.'
I love my digital cameras & their convenience, but there is something that such an instantly gratifying format cannot offer me - that thrill of the wait & the surprise of the outcome. You might think that every time I picked up a roll of newly developed film that it was Christmas Day. I can never wait until I get home - I sit inside the car, open the envelope and move from one picture to another. Some don't come out nearly as well as I had hoped and some unexpectedly wonderful, and there is no deleting. I shuffle my least favourite to the back.
In a roll of 24 pictures, 5 good pictures will thrill me. This isn't economically smart, I know, but it's one of those luxuries I can afford and if I had to choose among my luxuries, it is one of the few I would maintain to the best of my ability.
Of all the cheap film cameras I use, though, the disposables yield some of my favourite results. The rising access to lomo has made the Holga popular - you can find the Holga, Fish Eye, Diana, etc at stores like Urban Outfitters - but I've been a bit underwhelmed with the results of almost all my Holga photos. I have some on my website but by & large I don't especially care about the Holga shots I take. Maybe it is that when the Holga is in my hand I begin to rely too much on the camera & have not shot too many scenes that for me are meaningful. Maybe I relied in the past on the Holga to make up for my lack of inspiration.
Either way, it hasn't been as fun as I expected. My favourite camera, and the most expensive to use, has been the Kodak Brownie. I can probably take a picture of anything and still manage to love the photo. I took a picture inside my office with low light - my Brownie has no flash - and you can barely make out what is happening in the picture. I can see some white papers on the desk, the white wall of a cubicle, and the entire photo is still this blur of blues & greens & reds (a result of the film & the lighting, not the actual office itself). Something so mundane and yet I still love to look at it.
Over the weekend, I drove to an area that took an hour to reach because PCH had been closed for a marathon. My spouse complained about being dragged across the county at such an early hour, but I paid little attention, demanded he removed his shirt and took pictures of his pale white body against what I hope will turn out to be a black sea. I hadn't used my film SLR in such a long time I'd almost forgotten the sound of the shutter.
In my worst moments - emotionally - I threw myself into taking pictures. They were all terrible and narcissistic, and I am certain that many will continue to be and still the sound of the shutter, the moment I look at the prints, the whole thing is cathartic. I am not in the best of places right now as far as my mental health is concerned, so I think I will again throw myself into film.
There was a time when I had access to a lab to develop all my Ilford black & white film, though having moved I do not have access to it now and if I did I would not remember the process. I was once asked to recall what it was I did to develop and I could not remember, I just did it, mechanically, the way a fourth grader cannot tell you about modals and auxilaries but can still speak the language. You could have tied a bandana around my eyes and I would have been able to develop them. I couldn't see as I placed the film in the tank anyway. I waited for my eyes to adjust but in the pitch black there is no light to which my eyes can adjust.
Now though I have to rely on commercial film developers - but all the same, the experience of looking at the print after having exposed the film will be just as exciting.
-M.M
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[15 Jan 2010|09:13pm] |
My good friend & I are what my spouse might call 'Team Old Man' because of our early bed habits. It is only just 9:15 on a Friday evening and I am ready to brush my teeth and head to bed before his friends arrive for games.
The upcoming weeks are going to be eventful - I'm looking forward to what is around the corner. In addition to two therapy appointments and a renewed prescription of anti-anxiety medicine, next weekend is the Los Angeles Art Show for 2010. Soon afterward, the Museum of Latin American Art will be opening an exhibit on the photography of Latin American artists. I'm eager to see what they showcase, but at the same time I am trying to temper my enthusiasm because I am so easily disappointed by photography at museums (again, I have been spoiled - though admittedly it is an issue of taste).
This week, my spouse and I while looking for an import furniture and gift store downtown found some galleries (unfortunately closed at that hour), and an enjoyable coffee shop with a fair amount of art and shelves and shelves of books.
Somehow I spent my remaining energy writing this short entry. It is time for bed.
-M.M
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[29 Dec 2009|09:49pm] |
Friends:
Never take for granted personal space. After having spent the last few days of the holidays with my considerably younger siblings, my mother, her husband all in the same house with my spouse & I, I can say without a doubt that personal space is a God sent gift which should be cherished.
The already faint dream of an orgasm with my partner is shattered by the stomping and giggling of children. An otherwise relaxing shower becomes an attempt to hide from the window as my mother's husband steps outside to pick oranges from the tree beside the bathroom. My sister sings songs about loving Jesus. My mother redecorates. She loves fake flower centerpieces on dining room tables, faux Japanese decor, animal print, and decorative pillows a la Marie Antoinette.
I spent the evening listening to a predominantly 90s mix and drinking happy hour specials at a chain cantina.
-M.M
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