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It's funny how memory does ya
Jan. 2nd, 2010 03:18 pmI finally got my nice, new Epson V300 scanner set up. The pathetic part is that it's been sitting in my hall waiting to be hooked up since the end of September. Various reasons prevented this, not the least being an extreme lack of space. At any rate, I made a place for it this week and made it happen.
I wanted a really good stand alone scanner because I have an enormous collection of print photographs and negatives. I plan to slowly but surely scan those so I can preserve them, then put them into long term storage and get them out of the way. (See above about lack of space.)
I've started that process. I imagine some of the images will show up here. They'll definitely show up on Flickr.
Some of you may remember this "from the notebooks" entry I made back in December '08. In it I discussed a epiphanic moment I had on top of Glastonbury Tor. I also discussed a photograph I'd taken at the time, a picture I hadn't seen it years (because it was stored I knew not where), but one that meant a lot to me. I remembered it as being almost as good as the moment it sought to capture.
Of course, it wasn't. I found it recently. It isn't a bad picture, but memory had made it so much more than it was, pouring in the emotions I felt at the time, the vision I experienced that day, into the paper and emulsion of the physical thing. No thing could ever compare, not really. I suppose that's the point of any photo: it captures a moment in order to spark a memory—but photos are rarely as good as what the human eye and human heart capture.
Lesson learned. Again.
( The photograph in question. )
I wanted a really good stand alone scanner because I have an enormous collection of print photographs and negatives. I plan to slowly but surely scan those so I can preserve them, then put them into long term storage and get them out of the way. (See above about lack of space.)
I've started that process. I imagine some of the images will show up here. They'll definitely show up on Flickr.
Some of you may remember this "from the notebooks" entry I made back in December '08. In it I discussed a epiphanic moment I had on top of Glastonbury Tor. I also discussed a photograph I'd taken at the time, a picture I hadn't seen it years (because it was stored I knew not where), but one that meant a lot to me. I remembered it as being almost as good as the moment it sought to capture.
Of course, it wasn't. I found it recently. It isn't a bad picture, but memory had made it so much more than it was, pouring in the emotions I felt at the time, the vision I experienced that day, into the paper and emulsion of the physical thing. No thing could ever compare, not really. I suppose that's the point of any photo: it captures a moment in order to spark a memory—but photos are rarely as good as what the human eye and human heart capture.
Lesson learned. Again.
( The photograph in question. )