I had a minor epiphany last evening. It happened during pigeon pose in a hot yoga class that up until that moment I was feeling pretty fantastic about. Pigeon always throws me–I get panicky and want to run–but I’ve been practicing yoga long enough (on and off for more of my life than not) that I know not to run. Still, I have to breathe through this pose and remember that it’s just a passing moment. Like an unpleasant interaction, or ice cream brain freeze.
It was this: I know myself.
I actually heard that. My voice, but from somewhere else in the room, saying it.
I get flaky and wishy-washy and indecisive. But, in reality, I know what I like and don’t like. I know what’s good for me and what I need to move on from. I know more than I am letting on that I know about my own self-worth. I know my own mind. I know myself.
It felt pretty freeing to have this thought come to me as I became still and patient during pigeon pose, allowing its lessons to wash over me, with sweat dripping down my nose and a seriously clenching gluteus maximus.
Of course, I’ll probably need reminders. But there it was, plain as day. Or, plain as the voices in my head.
I know myself.
my dad, laughing
I know where I came from, too. The guy in this picture, my dad. He was with me for a few days several weeks ago and agreed to let me photograph him, and I was eager to try the Bronica SQ-A for portraits. I only took 12 images. This one, to me, is him. His laugh takes over his face.
I’ve been driving my new (but not new new) car for about a week and a half and it’s just so great. I’m attached. We’ve bonded. We’re pals. I haven’t come up with a suitable name yet, though.
The car was a necessity. But I also bought the Bronica SQ-A I’ve been testing, which was definitely not a necessity.
So, I am committing to no more cameras for the rest of this year and for all of 2018. I pledge this. I mean it. I really mean it. To clarify, I mean I won’t buy any cameras for this period of time. Well, unless something happens, like if a critical camera breaks. Then I’d replace it. But that would be the only reason.
I really hope I stick to this. Maybe I will need reminders.
It’s also getting dark. And cold. Last weekend was supposed to be another collaboration with my friend Margi, who was going to meet me at the cottage and we were going to take more photos exploring movement in nature, but the weather didn’t cooperate and I had a shortage of ideas for indoor locations, so I cancelled. I went to the cottage on my own but Saturday was a bust, weather-wise. I wanted to give the Bronica a fair chance and I finally sorted out an issue with one of the film backs, so I ran a roll of film through on Saturday in a bit of rain.
cornfield, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISOcornfield, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISOcornfield, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISOcorn and dried stalk, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISOLittle Sable Point, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISOLittle Sable Point, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO
Sunday started gray and cold but the sky was dramatic and it wasn’t too windy and the blue even poked through the clouds every now and then, so I ran a second roll through the Bronica and finished up the roll I started in California on the Minolta.
Napa vineyard, Kodak ColorPlus, Minolta SRT 102
redwoods, Kodak ColorPlus, Minolta SRT 102
DANGER, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISOthe farmhouse, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISOa little fall color, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO
I’m forever inspired and amazed by these ghosts of old trees. The wind and sand buries and unburies them, topples and rights them, year after year. The landscape changes so dramatically. I love documenting this.
Anyway. I’m excited to explore more with this camera and happy to be driving my new car, and not so happy about the impending shorter days and cold. But that’s life.
I imagine we’re not meant to live as if on vacation every day. But, what if we were? Could we stand that much sunshine? Could we stand the gorgeousness? So much of it? Would it hurt too much to live like that, or make us too soft, or too happy?
my friend Kelly, contemplating the view
I don’t know. I tell people that here in Michigan the winters make our summers so much sweeter. Not that I mind the winters. Because maybe we have to do penance with the dark days, or the miserably cold days, to really appreciate the warm and sunny days. But I wonder if maybe we’ve got to see and taste and touch beauty every single day. Maybe it makes us better. I’m willing to bet it does.
our cabin in the woodsprayer flags and pathgarden
In any case, I took film to the lab today and they had it developed and uploaded before I even got home. Just when I’ve become more patient with the whole process, they go and make it instant! I shot one and a half rolls of Kodak ColorPlus film on my trusty Minolta SRT 102 in California two weeks ago, and this is the one. The half roll isn’t finished yet and that is what is making me feel so unsettled and thinking about just how much beauty we are entitled to in our everyday life. Perhaps it’s all in the way we frame things. Beauty is everywhere, after all.
I think some days we just don’t feel like looking at it. But it kind of smacks you across the face in California.
Mendocino
And here’s another thing. The fires are still burning. We left Sunday morning, and the fires broke out in wine country that night and they are continuing today. It sounds trite to say my heart breaks for California. But oh how it does. Such beauty, such loss.
This week has been chaos. A drive back to the city, major work project and deadlines, trying to think about what I need to pack for California this coming week, and planning around this weekend, which is jam-packed.
Both kids were under our roof last night–a rare treat–and now everyone is off to their events for the day and I can sit and breathe for just a moment and look at the photos that I had processed this week.
old stone, Buttermilk Falls, Kodak ColorPlus 200, Minolta SRT 102
mushroom, Buttermilk Falls, Kodak ColorPlus 200, Minolta SRT 102
the falls, Buttermilk Falls, Kodak ColorPlus 200, Minolta SRT 102
rocky steps, Buttermilk Falls, Kodak ColorPlus 200, Minolta SRT 102
When we were in Pittsburgh for my cousin’s wedding at the start of this month I found out there was a small waterfall less than a mile from the hotel where we stayed. This is Buttermilk Falls, also known as Homewood Falls. It’s a very short hike through a quarry where there are some rocky cliffs that maybe one shouldn’t traverse after overindulging at a wedding the night before, but the light was lovely here and worth a few unsteady moments.
That Bronica SQ-A I’m testing produced one beautiful roll and one awful roll this month, after a first disappointing roll. I still don’t quite know what to make of it… is the awful roll a product of a processing mistake or a camera error? Maybe I need to stick to standard films for testing–the first bad roll was an expired film, and this recent bad one was a redscale film. One roll I didn’t even send for processing because it only advanced sporadically, and I didn’t notice it wasn’t advancing while I was shooting. I need more time with the camera to make sure. I don’t want to keep comparing it to my son’s Mamiya because it has both its own quirks and its own charm. But so far I’ve had three bad rolls to one good… is it me, or is it the camera? I guess I’d like more consistent results before I purchase it. I can’t afford to waste so much film.
Aren’t these gorgeous, though? They look lush and velvety. They make me love 120 film.
sunset on Lake Michigan, Bronica SQ-A, Lomography 100
sunset and Queen Anne’s lace, Bronica SQ-A, Lomography 100
sunset on Lake Michigan, Bronica SQ-A, Lomography 100
And more gorgeousness.
roadside sunflowers, Bronica SQ-A, Lomography 100
apple orchard in west Michigan, Bronica SQ-A, Lomography 100
roadside sunflowers, Bronica SQ-A, Lomography 100
And then the not so gorgeous:
Lake Michigan, Bronica SQ-A, Lomography redscale
Lake Michigan, Bronica SQ-A, Lomography redscale
Seriously, I’d love some clues as to what happened here. Can the paper backing stick to 120 film? Is this what might have happened? And redscale shouldn’t come out purple, right? The whole roll looks like this. Purple and muddled. I’m at a loss.
But back to the Minolta and that Kodak ColorPlus. It’s a 200 speed film, it can be found very cheap (last bunch I got ended up being $2.60/roll), and I really quite like it for an everyday 35mm film. So there you go.
west Michigan blueberries, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPlus
Maybe I’ve mentioned this before on this blog, but I’ve been picking blueberries at this particular farm my entire life. My kids have been picking blueberries here their entire lives. The family that owns this farm has put it up for sale and I tell you, if I could manage to buy and run a blueberry farm, I’d do it in a heartbeat because I think I’m going to be around for a while, and my kids are going to be around longer, and I’d love for us all to continue blueberry picking at this very farm. But since it’s probably not a good idea for me to add blueberry farm owner to my plate, someone else is going to have to do it. Anyone interested? I’ll be your best customer.
dill flower and sky at Cherry Point Market, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPluscolor and shadow at Fox Barn, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPlussign at Fox Barn, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPlus
So, summer is over. October begins tomorrow, and I’ll be back in the city more now. And that’s okay. My house is a disorganized disaster and I’ve got lots to do to sort it out. And I missed Detroit this summer; like any city recognizing a resurgence, it’s changing rapidly. A new stadium, new businesses. A drive west on Woodward last night made me feel like I’ve been away longer than I have. Slow down a little, Detroit. Let me catch up.
I’m trying not to compare. But, last year at this time I was on a wild mission with films and cameras and taking pictures. It’s not that I’m uninspired this year… it’s maybe that I want to avoid taking the same pictures over and over. In some cases, anyway.
Another digital sunset, anyone?
Last year I just felt more confident in my art. I knew how to use all the cameras I had and I wasn’t planning on adding any more. But then, of course, I did. And it might have shaken my confidence a bit. This is good, though. Comfort is a stifling position to be in.
I’m still trialing (is that a word?) a medium format camera and I hope its owner isn’t getting too annoyed at the time I’m taking with it. The first roll was disappointing but there are so many factors that could have contributed. Another roll didn’t advance correctly. Two did advance correctly, however, and those will be off to the lab on Monday and I will hopefully have an answer for the camera’s owner by the end of the week.
And another lesson, the pinhole camera I got midsummer. I really don’t know what I’m doing, and after these results from a first roll through it, I’m even more intimidated by it. But I need to get over that and give it another go. I learn by feeling my way through something, and I’m not going to figure this thing out unless I keep trying.
So after a bit of a hiatus, the digital camera has been in rotation a little more this summer. I’ve still got plenty of love for it.
In just over a week I’ll be in California for a short vacation, and I am nearly certain the Minolta SRT 102 is the camera I’ll take with me, because it’s my favorite and it may be the most reliable camera in my arsenal at the moment, and I’d rather shoot film thoughtfully than take a million digital images (which is what I would do, even if I decided to shoot digital thoughtfully) and tax myself with the time of going through them all.
So that’s where I am. About to go to California and see some areas I’ve never seen, forest and shore and redwoods. Testing a camera and getting over being intimidated by another camera. Waiting for some film to come back, 120 and 35 mm. I’m a bit in limbo and that’s all okay.
I’m not on the beach. I piss and moan about this a bit, and when I’m not on the beach and I’m in the city, I think about all the things I’m missing on the beach. The fact that cherry season is well over, for instance. And that the corn grew tall in my absence. Have the peaches come in yet? And, how many sunsets on the lake have I missed? Have I missed the best one of the season?
Sigh. Shame on me.
Yesterday evening I walked my city for miles. I walked on blocks and streets I either haven’t been on in a few years or simply haven’t appreciated. I like this city, with its modest older houses and orderly city blocks, lovingly tended gardens and lawns. There are sidewalks here. I said hello to people sitting on porches (and they said hello back). I watched a squall come in and the sky turn into a fireball in the west where the sun prepared to set. Granted, there were houses and trees and power lines in the way of an open-sky view, but it was still shockingly beautiful. And, when the sky dropped tremendous raindrops and I took cover under a corner tree for a few minutes, but still got soaked anyway, I had an attitude adjustment. I’m so lucky I can spend time on Michigan’s west side gazing at the lake. I’m so, so lucky. And I’m lucky to have a roof over my head here on the east side of the state, in a living, breathing, working neighborhood just outside of Detroit.
But anyway, the ships.
There is an organization, the Columbus Foundation, that sails two ships, replicas of Columbus’s Niña and Pinta, floating museums as homage not so much to Columbus’s voyage but to the type of ship he sailed. They sail most of the year and make stops around the U.S. and through the Great Lakes system, and one such stop happens to be right down the street from me in a neighborhood park on the Detroit River. While freighters regularly go by here, and they are beautiful to watch, there is something different about seeing these two beauties docked here for several days.
I got up early one morning to catch the ships in the sunrise with some friends and brought my trusty Minolta SRT 102, which had some shots left on a roll of Kodak Gold, a cheap 200 speed film that I’ve decided I like quite a bit.
I shot a roll of black and white 120 film that morning on a camera I’m testing and may buy (ahem, don’t judge), but I’d like to hand develop that and I haven’t gotten to it yet. And, the first roll of expired color film I ran through it has me scratching my head a bit as the results are, well, weird. But that’s for another post.
fog on inland lake, Mamiya 645 1000s and Kodak Ektar 100
Last winter when I was taking a black and white film photography class, my son lent me his Mamiya 645 1000s camera, a behemoth of a thing (compared to any 35mm camera I have), with a sturdy feel and the most satisfying shutter-click sound. It intimidated the hell out of me with its 120 film and its battery fussiness and well, just the sheer size of it.
It eats batteries like crazy (as in, put in the battery, take a picture, take the battery out–or else you drain the battery mid-roll) and it’s hard to maneuver. The shutter is easy to accidentally misfire (I had at least one, often more, accidental or blank shot on every roll). I swore at it while using it, but always apologized immediately because it’s hard not to be charmed by its quirks, really, and the detail in the negatives of 120 film is enough of a bonus here.
In any case, I mostly happily shot maybe 8 or so rolls of black and white film with it during my class and got comfortable working with 120 film, and in doing so, I really fell hard for the camera. I joked about stealing it from my son, but that would mean a lifetime of lies (“no, really, that was shot on 35mm film, I swear”), and a few weeks ago I very sadly handed it back to him. I was even pouty about it for a few days. I know I can borrow it any time, but it’s not the same as having it in my possession, loaded with film and at the ready.
dead end, Mamiya 645 1000scountry road, Mamiya 645 1000s
Knowing I would have to give it back to him, I ran a couple of rolls of color film through it to kick myself in the gut one last time see how it handled color. And, it’s as beautiful as I expected.
I miss you, Mamiya. I hope my kid takes care of you like I did (minus the swearing at you–I still feel bad about that). Even if I end up with my very own camera of your genre and we don’t hang out again, know that you were my first medium format love.
We went to Jenny’s farm for eggs and wandered into the barn to see the goats and I got sidetracked by the light coming in the open door where the goats (and the cat) wander in and out. This was also the day that we loved up the baby goat (a bottle baby–his mama died shortly after he was born) and he was sucking sweetly on my thumb until his little teeth started to grind in and I had to pluck him off, which I felt terrible about (and I apologized to him profusely). My thumb bled, a bit on my camera even, but I didn’t care one bit because that baby goat was the sweetest thing ever.
Film, 35mm Kodak Gold 200, and I think the camera was the Minolta X-700. But I can’t remember for sure, even though it was just a few weeks ago. Which is a great case right there for carrying (and then actually using) a photo notebook. Sounds good in theory, but I don’t think it’ll ever happen.
I don’t think I can limit myself to a photographic style until I try everything. I soaked a roll of expired film for about half a day in some sparkling mead. Then I rinsed it, soaked it in water for about another half a day, and then let it sit around to dry for oh, I don’t know, maybe three weeks.
And then I loaded it into my Minolta X-700 and…
milkweed flowers at the edge of a wheat field
Dreamy stuff. Soft colors, smeary lines.
Bella, asparagus field
I asked the lab first if they could develop this–I know soaked films can mess with chemicals and I didn’t want to screw up anyone else’s film (or my other six rolls they were developing). I’m starting to really love my local lab.
I spent some time with Lomography Lomochrome Purple film last fall and, well, we had a thing together. I loved the color shifts with the Midwest foliage and golden light. I tried it again this spring with 120 film in the Holga, and my results were decidedly pink (was it the different lab? the camera? who knows). It’s rated from 100-400 ISO, and in 35mm form I mostly shot it at 400 speed, which I thought resulted in some really gorgeous, deep, rich purples.
I decided to try shooting it at 100 speed this time.
fern in forest, Lomography Lomochrome Purple, Minolta SRT 102
Hmmmm. I don’t know how I feel about it. I mean, I like my results, but I missed the purple.
So much more subtle than my previous runs with this film.
Yellows are a lovely pink, but the greens didn’t get as purple as I expected based on past rolls. The greens just stayed mostly green, really. And things that were not green got a greenish cast, like the wheat field and the wood on this shed and the fence posts.
this, not so purple
but this, from a different angle, mega purple
But still, full of fun surprises. The green frizzy stuff (I don’t have a clue what this is) in Barbara’s garden looked just plain old green when I shot it from one angle in full sun, but from the side–purple explosion. I’ve done no editing to these scans, which were done by the lab, so I don’t know. The light? The lab color corrected? It’ll remain a mystery (I like film mysteries anyway).
And sunset colors are tinged a bit more purple, but plenty of greens and turquoise here as well…
my kid, his girl, Lomography Lomochrome Purple, Minolta SRT 102
I have one more roll in my stash, but of course I’ll buy more. I’m a little nuts about it. It’s pricey, but so worth it.
I dream of sumac and milkweed (and other wild things) 