I like my hair better in Texas

and other pointless observations

000059870002.jpg
Austin skyline, doubled

I don’t have a picture of my hair in Texas. I’m not much for selfies, and no one is clamoring to snap any photos of me. But, I was in Austin spending time with my daughter and soaking up the muggy heat and ignoring my own life for just a few days and I gotta say, my hair looked poofy and full and not flat and static-y and I just liked it.

My hip flexor, which I tore and wrote about last post (in March, no less–I’m trying not to ignore this blog but it seems that’s what I’ve done) is 95% better. Sometimes I feel it a little but I’m not babying it anymore. The black and white film class I took at community college just finished a week ago today. I’ve got a bunch of negatives to scan and I’m not thrilled for that because I can’t seem to make a decent scan come out of my scanner. Plus, scanning is a royal pain in the ass.

The cottage window is fixed and the house survived the winter; the beach did not. The bluff in front of our cottage is in ruins, disarray; the pipes and tires we drove into the shoreline as protective jetties more than 30 years ago are now exposed, our stairs no longer usable, a high cliff from the bluff to the water. We know how it goes, but it still stings and it still gives me nightmares. We can only hope for the levels of the Great Lakes to go down, but I’d prefer to plan than leave things to hope or chance. I want to know what’s next, even if I’m not going to like it. I do better with that.

Still, it’s not like the cottage is about to fall off the bluff and into the lake (I don’t say this jokingly as there are cottages on these lakes that have done just that). We’re not in danger yet. The view is still spectacular, the wildflowers and the deer and the foxes and the eagles will still make appearances, the sun will still rise and set and make for appreciative conversation. Summer warmth will kiss our bare skin and make us feel better about the world.

Austin and film soaked in McClary Bros. thai basil drinking vinegar

Yeah, say that three times fast.

We went to a park in an Austin suburb and walked a trail there that wound through scrub and cacti and wildflowers and it was hot and sunny and wonderful. The leaves had only just unfurled here in Michigan and the earliest spring flowers are in bloom, but in Texas it was lush and green and fields of yellow and red and orange wildflowers were riotous and plentiful. Anyway, I shot a roll of film mostly in that park with the last few shots around my daughter’s neighborhood and on the rooftop deck of her apartment building.

The film is Lomography 100 ISO color film. The thai basil drinking vinegar I soaked it in a few months ago offered a pretty subtle effect, with no great streaks or bubbles of color, but some gentle color shifts mainly. I’m good with it.

000059870012.jpg
thistle and butterfly
000059870013.jpg
000059870022.jpg
000059870030.jpg
000059870016.jpg
“don’t fall on that, mom…”
000059870008.jpg
fence and vine
000059870009.jpg
hotel St. Cecilia, which I’m hoping some day I can afford to stay a night in because it’s so charming
000059870006.jpg
path through the neighborhood
000059870005.jpg
arms like branches

Until next time, Texas. I might not come ’round in the summer because, well, you’re really hot, and I don’t mean that in a nice way. But you’ve grown on me, and I like to see my kid, so keep some beer in the cooler for me, will ya?

Ginger-lemon summer

I don’t really know what I can say here. I’m in love.

LDC_20180727_54150025.jpg
freighter on Lake Michigan

LDC_20180727_54150035.jpg
pines and clouds

I know when I first started to shoot film I was so excited by not knowing what I was going to get when my film was developed. I have a little more experience now, so I pretty much do know what I’m going to get, but I’m still chasing the fun of the mystery, which is why I’m drawn to expired films, film soups, new (to me) old cameras. A guarantee of not knowing what you’ll get, and so you’ll definitely get a surprise (good or bad).

LDC_20180727_54150012.jpg
sunset and driftwood

In prep for a film secret Santa exchange last Christmas, I chopped up some fresh ginger, squeezed the juice out of a lemon, and boiled the ginger and lemon with some water for, oh, I don’t know, a while. Then I let the concoction cool and dropped two rolls of film into it to soak for, oh, I don’t know, another while. Then I took them out and rinsed them and dropped them into a baggie with rice to dry for a few weeks, and then I mailed one to my secret Santa recipient in California and kept the other for myself.

LDC_20180727_54150005.jpg
seaplane and clouds

I’m still kind of bad about noting things and I kind of thought I would remember which roll I soaked, but of course I didn’t. So I forgot all about it until I put this roll in my Minolta SRT-102 a few weeks ago and it was just a little crispy feeling when I tried to advance the first few frames and a lightbulb went off in my brain and ta-da! I remembered about that film I soaked over the winter.

LDC_20180727_54150001.jpg
vineyard and truck

LDC_20180727_54150036.jpg
driftwood, double

Surprise!

I like good surprises.

LDC_20180727_54150006.jpg
lighthouse, unmoored

Anyway. Color shifts, streaks, green bubbly-looking spots. Be still my heart. I soaked some film in sparkling honey mead last summer and was happy with that. This venture has made me equally happy.

LDC_20180727_54150016.jpg
moonflower

LDC_20180727_54150018.jpg
yellow garden groundcover

LDC_20180727_54150022.jpg
lavender sky

LDC_20180727_54150023.jpg
lavender

LDC_20180727_54150024.jpg
more lavender

You can see more from this roll here.

 

mead-soaked summer

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…

LDC_20170722_04060014
milkweed flowers at the edge of a wheat field

Dreamy stuff. Soft colors, smeary lines.

LDC_20170722_04060009
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.

LDC_20170722_04060006LDC_20170722_04060002LDC_20170722_04060001LDC_20170722_04060008LDC_20170722_04060007