When you force people through mild social anxiety, they thank you for it later.
teaching & learning.
about a 6 months ago, someone stole almost all of my photography equipment.
since then, i’ve been taking barely palatable cell phone images. these are captures. they’re not images you put yourself into. i never realized the difference until others started pointing it out to me.
ever since the robbery, i was focused on the fact that i let something like that happen. i’m better than that. the stolen goods are replaceable, so on and so forth. time passed, i focused on work and trying to justify the moments we spend not working. what i didn’t realize was that, as cliche as it sounds, i was letting something die. in passing, my boss and my girlfriend both told me i was a different person and i thought, “shit, maybe i am.”
having a camera, having a tool, having a creative outlet always gave me something to put myself into. i taught myself photography in my own unique way. i was neither technical nor artistic. i just tried to tell a story and show people the things they were missing. it worked. i was the “guy with the camera” always taking the “awesome pictures” of that party, show or event. not that i want to be that person again, but i quickly realized that people were right…i wasn’t telling the story they were used to and knew i wanted to tell.
over the weekend i bought a used film camera and lens. a few weekends before that i bought a large quantity of tri-x black & white film. i just read a manual. when was the last time you read a manual? i drank a beer and put on a camera strap. i took a picture. just of my computer b/c it was right in front of where i’m sitting. but more than that, this computer is a huge part of my life - professionally & personally. i use it for work and i used it to communicate. right now. i’m looking forward to taking photos of the new people in my life, the old people and the people that are neither new or old.
i used to follow a band around (this is them now, many member/name/musical styles later) and document their lives. i’d always hate the fact that everything about me would leave some club smelling of smoke. even my camera. when i unpacked this used camera and held it up to my face, i could smell the cigarette smoke lingering in the plastic. ready, not willing, to be worked out. it doesn’t really matter, i sort of feel at home.
