Farm House | Olympus om-1, Kodak portra 400

I’ve been reading a beautiful essay, Navigating the Mysteries by Martin Shaw, in Emergence Magazine, Volume 3. There is so much to think on in his words.

“My petition is that we accept the challenge of uncertainty. As a matter of personal style. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what the Anglo-Saxons called ‘living in the bone-house.’ We get older, we find life is riven with weirdness. We should be weird, too. To know, tell, and create stories is a wondrous skill that keeps faith with the traditional and beauteous techniques our ancestors used when faced with the sudden mists and tripwires of living.”

Every picture is a story, a way of beholding the world. This what I love about photography.

The concluding lines of this essay inspire and uplift.

“What are we bored by, what needs to stay stay buried? What deserves to be re-imagined, re-seeded, re-beheld?
That’s where the joyful work is. I’m handing you a spade.
This a moment of unexpected possibility.”

A couple of things to share.

First of all, I got new eyeglasses. Two pairs. One pair with progressive lenses which allow me to walk and drive around in the world safely AND read a book, a menu or texts. But the really big deal is the second pair of glasses. These are specifically computer glasses, meaning the prescription allows me to see clearly while working at the computer, with the entire space of the lens dedicated to this visual correction. Both my physical therapist and my eye doctor suggested this as a means to help decrease the pain in my neck, due to arthritis, but made so much worse by the tipping of my head needed to see with my old progressive lenses. This is a game changer! I feel so much more comfortable working at the computer, processing photographs and writing/typing. But what’s really amazing is how much better I can see! At first I thought something was wrong with the monitor since everything appeared so sharp and crisp and bright. But no, it was just the help of my new glasses that made all the difference!

Next up, a recommendation for a great way to get started with film photography, if you’re interested. I shelled out the $100 for this course. Your Journey into Film Photography, taught by Willhem Verbeeck, offered by Moment. The lessons total about 2.5 hours and they are broken down into logical, easy to follow segments with everything you need to know to give film photography a try. Moment offered one short lesson (a part of the entire course) for free as a trial. I really appreciate it when companies do this. Anyway, it was the free lesson that sold me. Learning from Willhem was a lot like having one of my sons teach me, which I love. On the videos, he was down-to-earth, approachable, knowledgeable and professional. It’s pretty hard to find all of those qualities in one teacher. Most of the information I knew, or at least kinda knew, but as I suspected, there were some gaps in my knowledge base, too. I highly recommend this course as a good place to start. And for me, it’s probably all I need to know—for now, anyway. I added one of those cool fanny sling packs to my order, too. Can’t tell you how happy I am that the fanny pack has made a come back. It’s really hard for me to carry any kind of strap around my neck.

Last but not least, taking pictures with film fulfills a deep need I have for fun, a desire to play and create, and a way to leave judgement behind.

Golden Hour | Mamiya 645, Kodak Portra 400

The golden light illuminates the trail of vines through the forest, making the way clear.
Passes through the prism of the sun catcher, through the linen curtain, onto the white wall of the living room. Light dancing everywhere, like sparkling sand.
Untangling my thoughts, allowing me to reach out from the anxiety of unknowing to something like hope. Or joy.

Badly Repaired Car | Olympus om-1, Kodak portra 400

One Picture/One Paragraph

On Sally Mann. And ambiguity. And what it is about pictures that we love. And how we take pictures that convey emotion. Sometimes there is a confluence of events that set my direction and my depth. The meaning of my work. A friend wrote to ask about how we make pictures that evoke feeling. In response, I thought about how making pictures of things that we are passionate about translates into pictures that pull the viewer in. My friend Kate sent along a link to a video, Sally Mann in “Place.” She knew I would love the video, and she was right. In Sally’s words, “If it doesn’t have ambiguity, don’t bother to take it.” For Sally, there has to be some degree of peculiarity or the subject and scene simply are not interesting to her, at least not interesting enough for a photograph worthy of her time and attention. Sally likens her aesthetic to that of a magpie, taking advantage of what is readily available—in the case of this video, she is photographing dog bones (the kind dogs love to chew, not those that compose the skeleton). I love that she talked about making art just for fun, too, without some overarching theme or profound statement. I pass this car, with the blue painter’s tape along the widows and seams, every week on my way to physical therapy. It’s not far from the medical complex, and without fail, it catches my attention. I wonder if the car is abandoned. Is the tape there to keep rain and snow out? Is it there to repair some damage? Hold things together? I do not know. I only know that this is the kind of picture that I care about. How things can be broken and still loved, purposeful, meaningful, worthy.