Things I learned about light

[pjthompson]

Beach Twilight 3, timed exposure, Venice Beach, California, early ‘80s 

I was once a prodigious photographer. For about 20 years back in the mid-70s to mid-90s I never went anywhere without my camera. First a Minox 35 GL then a Canon AE-1. I loved the little Minox, but it was automatic focus, you see, and I wanted more control. So I got the Canon. I couldn’t afford a Nikon at the time, but the Canon was highly rated and I was happy with it. I experimented with a lot of things—infrared film, timed exposures, B&W portraits, etc., etc. I used film, I used slide film. Back then I could talk the talk, but like any skill long out of practice, I’ve forgotten much of it. But I was left with a mountain of film strips and slide boxes.

Once I switched to digital, first with a baby Nikon, then the lazy way with my cell phones, I became a snapper rather than a photographer. This may have been because with my old manual camera I had to stop and consider each shot. Frame it, decide what f-stop to try, experiment with focus, etc. This was true even of the Minox. The focus was automatic, but I was still responsible for the light settings, et al.

Or maybe I always took a bunch of crappy photos and once a roll or so got lucky. Maybe I was just pretending to be a photographer and was nothing but a delusion dilettante, a snapper, a poseur. (You know the Imposter Syndrome drill.)

But at least with digital I didn’t have to worry about mountains of film strips and slides. And I had ceased being a serious photographic aficionado at some point, mainly (maybe) due to the cost of buying and developing film, maybe for other reasons I no longer remember or want to admit. Photography back in the olden days was not an egalitarian pursuit. It cost money, and not just the initial expense for nice cameras. It was a money pit of film and developing and dark room supplies. (I did get marginally smarter at a certain point and started getting proof sheets rather than paying for everything to be developed, but still.) At least with good digital and good camera phones available many more people can pursue this art form.

I got an expensive high-quality flatbed scanner back in ’06 or thereabouts and started digitizing things. But scanning is a laborious process and I was not dedicated to getting through that mountain of film stuffs quickly. After a while, the scanner went belly up. I tried reloading the software and doing a bunch of other things but alas. It may have been a victim of a power surge, but I didn’t have the ambition to send it to the dealer so I’ll never know. The warranty had run out and I didn’t want to spend the money, frankly. Recently, I thought I really should do something about that film mountain so back in April I acquired a cheaper but still well-rated mini scanner and began the process again.

At first it was a giant surprise seeing what came up on the screen, a half-remembered country that had once been so important to me. But I quickly discovered (actually, I knew this but didn’t want to acknowledge the fact) that the quality of both film and slides degrade badly over time. I also discovered what an awful lot of really bad photos I had taken. True, I started scanning with a set of vacation slides I’d taken in the early 80s in Seattle and they may not have been representative of my overall skill. In my mind, though, I remembered getting some great stuff. And if I can ever find the prints I had made of those slides back then, maybe I did or maybe I didn’t. Particularly disappointing were the pix I took of Puget Sound with its heart-stopping green beauty. I remember being pleased with how they came out—even though no photo could really capture the totality of that beauty. But when the scans came up on the screen, everything was washed out or too dark and even photoshopping couldn’t redeem them. It was so discouraging I quit scanning in despair, feeling like an entire portion of my life had been nothing but a sham.

Yesterday, I chided myself into doing more scanning. “Either scan this stuff or throw it out.”* There was one picture in particular I wanted to find but who knew where the hell it was, which box or envelope. I had labeled many of them, but not all. I picked some unlabeled slide boxes at random, opened the first one, and there it was, right on top. And it hadn’t degraded!

Shadow Dragon, Santa Monica, California, early ‘80s (?) 

Not a startlingly great shot but one I remembered fondly. One of those once in a roll lucky shots. One that let me know that I may have been mostly crap, but every once in a while I was slightly less crap. (Kind of like the old proverb, “Even a blind squirrel gets a nut once in a while.”)

I’m still looking for other remembered pictures, that lost horde of imagined gold, hoping the slides haven’t degraded too badly. Certain signature shots that loom large in my mind. They may turn out to be just as disappointing as those Seattle snaps, but one lives in hope.

*Please note: I have thrown away some of the crappy stuff, but find myself completely incapable of throwing out even the crappiest shots of any animal I have ever known and loved.

Comments

[asakiyume]

I'm so sorry that's the way your mind is working on your photos right now, because I'll tell you, both your shadow dragon and the Venice beach photo are beautiful. The shadow dragon in particular delighted me.

Is it possible your mind is out to get you right now? Is torturing you for some reason?

I often wonder what "good" and "talented" even mean. I have a poem on my wall that was graffiti I found on a boardwalk. I love it more than any Shakespeare sonnet. It has something. Maybe not everyone would think so, but I sure do. That poet moved me profoundly. But he'll never get acclaim for that poem...

... which feels like it could turn into some kind of a scold for wanting acclaim, and I don't mean for that to happen. I think it's natural to want to be admired and celebrated (though I do think it's like trying to catch rainbows--I don't think admiration or celebration can really last or satisfy--but that doesn't mean we don't enjoy a taste of them).

Anyway. These are lovely. Thank you for sharing.

[pjthompson]

Thank you, but you're really just seeing the cream of the crop. Trust me when I say there are a lot of bad photos in each roll. The Imposter Syndrome may have something to do with that attitude, but it's also true. And mostly I knew that even back then and was accepting of it. I would hear professional photographers say they just kept taking pictures hoping for that one perfect moment and they were lucky if it happened once or twice a roll. (I'm not talking about wedding photographers and the like—they have to produce a more consistent product and are champs for doing so—but the art photographers.) (I once did a wedding shoot for my friend as part of my wedding gift. Her mother panicked that there wouldn't be any good photos so also hired a pro. My friend was kind enough to say she liked mine better, whether that was true or not. She said I caught the emotions better. Again, maybe that was friendship talking.)

And really, I wasn't doing photography so much for acclaim. Yeah, it was cool when it happened and I was chuffed, but this was something I was doing for myself. My aspiration. Sometimes I would enter things in local photo contests/exhibits but mostly not. (Although the Shadow Dragon did get an honorable mention once.)

I do know what you mean about found poetry, et al. I have one of those myself that I found years ago scrawled in black marker on one of those big metal intersection light changing boxes (do they still have those things?). Very moving, but completely anonymous. The doing is the important part. Except sometimes not.

My mind is in a funk right now. I'd just started to reclaim my drive forward in writing when the shutdown happened and then everything sputtered to a stop. Only fits and starts for a long time now, and more sputtering out. I don't feel I'm moving forward at all. And I know I'm not alone in that, but I'm also not completely healthy when I'm not doing art on a regular basis. And my physical problems are increasing which makes it more difficult for me to get back out in the world. Even if I was inclined to do that. It's a vicious cycle and that really gets to me sometimes.

I don't think admiration or celebration can really last or satisfy--but that doesn't mean we don't enjoy a taste of them

You are absolutely correct here. Mostly what I want is a return to that feeling of forward progress, of doing something, soul work. I want to get some of my stuff out there, not because I have an expectation of acclaim but just so that there is...something of me left in the world. When I die it's not likely that much of my artwork or writer work will be valued by those who inherit my property. But if some of it is out in there in the luminiferous aether (i.e., the digital universe) then that's okay. That will also be ephemera, but maybe a few people will see it.

Thank you for being a concerned friend. I appreciate it. I was in a particular funk last weekend when I wrote the first draft of that blog. I'm doing better at this stage of the week. I hope that trend continues.

[asakiyume]

(((hugs)))

I'm very glad and relieved to hear that you're escaping the funk.

The vicious cycle you describe, I hear that :( You--all of us--do want to keep pushing to stretch your world wider, but it's very hard to know what's sensible *right now* with the pandemic, even if you're vaccinated. And even if there wasn't a pandemic, it's harder to push yourself with things when you're living alone and you're the person who will be taking care of you if anything goes wrong. So yeah. I really respect what you're saying there.

I believe you *will* discover ways to push against the physical limitations and move about in the world, and that will help you find your sense of forward motion.

[sartorias]

Ditto about animal shots.

I wanted to be a photographer. But yes, way, way too expensive.

[pjthompson]

A rich person's hobby back in those days.

[pjthompson]

It's funny how these things happen: just last night I was listening to a podcast that broke wide open one of my stalled novels. I'm not writing anything yet, but suddenly the wall I kept slamming against is no longer there, and moving forward is a distinct possibility. Things like that let me know that maybe the universe isn't done with me yet. And that maybe it supports that idea and wants me to do something with it. So who knows?