The Tale My Thoughts Would Tell

I have heard plenty of photographers weigh in on the topic of memory. Artist statements are full of such musings. While it is not a big stretch to link the two, photography and memory, the details of the relationship can be a bit murky and hard to disentangle. Some associate photographs with imprints on memory, while others say basically the opposite, that the act of possessing a photograph of a thing weakens the imprint on our brains. Like relying on your phone too much. Maybe the key is to take a sufficient number of photographs such that each one is no longer precious to you, then put them away for a period of time. Then, later, go look at 'em again and see if they cause any neurons to fire. Or maybe you just feel confused? Time to make an appointment at the memory unit, son. 

A Splash Of Color

It is still too early in the season for fresh peaches, but they're coming. This photograph was taken a couple of years ago and I was really struck by the colors as I scrolled past it in my image catalogue. Photographers have been making images of their food since day one. Paul Caponigro's image of a peach comes to mind for me as an early example. 

A Couple of Old Drunks

 

When I was in my early teens, the family traveled from Southeast Asia to the United States by cargo ship. There were a total of twelve passengers on board, including two older retired gentlemen traveling together. As evidenced by the trash can placed outside their stateroom each morning, they consumed a fifth of vodka per night. That sure was a revelation to my brother and me, as was their habit of referring to the Buddha as ‘buddah’. They’re both dead by now, I reckon.

Tappan Zee Bridge (1955-2017)

I have some thoughts about the Tappan Zee bridge. You see, I was married more or less in its shadow, just out of frame to the left at Lyndhurst. Honestly, I much prefer the original to the current version, which I find overblown. Not that I am a Luddite, as I really do like the improvements that have been made to the little park in Tarrytown from where this photograph was made. Now that the old bridge has been demolished, this image has become much more important to me, like the portrait of a departed relative.

Like A Ton of Bricks

I could never afford to live in one of the new super skyscrapers that are popping up around NYC. That said, I wouldn’t mind seeing the city views from the top floor, but I’ve heard that many of the elevators have problems, and I have no desire to get stuck on the way up or down. Not to mention water leaks and getting battered by high winds. You know, I think I prefer the views from street level after all. I remember standing near this spot in Central Park a couple of decades ago when my brother first arrived in the city. Things change more than you realize. That’s what hits you when you stop and think.

Tasting notes: iPhone.

Kindred spirits

At some point a decade or so ago, I went through this phase where I would pick up a sturdy stick at the start of a hike and carry it with me until I was done walking. Then, I would find a place to leave the stick for someone else to find and use, or to just become part of the landscape again. Here in the Southeast, it's just too damn easy to get poison ivy, something I wouldn't wish on anyone, so I've gotten out of the habit. But there sure are times I'd like a stick handy, to fend off a snake or to steady a camera. So, when I came upon this scene, I saw evidence of a kindred spirit, and that cheered me up.

Here's to good light and artistic success this weekend.

An old memory bubbles up

Every so often, I revisit my old photos to cull the herd as well as to look for hidden gems (to mix metaphors). I marvel at the fact that there are over two decades of digital images to go through. By now, of course, most of the rubbish files already have been discarded. Every once in a while, though, I find something I really like that I overlooked at the time it was captured, like this image, which I made in Rome in 2007. It is interesting that modern image processing software can often really improve some of your older files, making them much more presentable. I took this image with my first DSLR, a Nikon D50. Funny, but I don't remember any of the details behind this image. What I do recall is that my supervisor at the time was a real asshole about me taking a week off work to go to Italy with my wife, who had a great opportunity over there. When I ignored his advice and went anyway, he gave me a crappy annual review. I'm happy to report that his silly efforts were in vain. I had a great time, no regrets, and future decent supervisors gave me nice raises that more than made up for the one year shortfall!

Enjoy your weekend, and I hope you have an awesome supervisor.

On travel

If asked, I would say that one of the things I missed the most this year is traveling freely, taking road trips on a whim, things like that. Which makes sense at first blush, but if these excursions are so meaningful, why are there some I seem to have no memory of, even when looking at a photograph I took to document the trip? 

Apparently, we stayed in this cute little motel on a road trip long ago, but what were we up to? I have no idea. Was I wrapped up in job stuff, and is that where the empty spaces in memory occur? Is this image photographic evidence of being obsessed with work?! Ugh.

Flea markets and birthday suits

A number of years ago, my wife and I were in the habit of going to flea markets and thrift stores pretty frequently. When prices started going crazy and the pickings got slim, our visits tapered off. A couple of times a year we'd pack coffee and snacks, and head over to Atlanta to spend hours looking around Scott's Antique Market. There were usually cool discoveries to be made on every outing, and we'd normally come home with a carload of vintage furniture and a camera or two. With money still in our wallets, to boot. During those trips is when I started buying old cameras in earnest, anything that looked interesting. One Christmas, my wife gifted me several rolls of film, and that's when I decided to make a practice of not just collecting, but shooting each and every old camera I picked up.

Inevitably, you'll forget about a roll of partially exposed film sitting in one of your cameras, only to discover it years or even decades later. When this happens, it is an invitation to do a little personal archeology to figure out what the hell you were thinking or doing at the time you made a given exposure.

At one point, my wife rented space in an old country schoolhouse for her studio. While she was working, I used to enjoy walking around the place looking for interesting compositions. I'd forgotten about this until I found some old negatives lying around. Old plaster and lathe walls are always worth investigating. At this point in photographic history, you'll never get rich or famous taking photographs of old walls, but it is a good way to develop your sense of composition. Plus, I'll be honest, I just like walking around taking pictures of things, "to see what they look like when photographed", as Winogrand famously said.

The color palate of the film emulsion adds another dimension to images of this kind that I particularly like, too.