Mini-Hiatus

To have a full-time hobby grew to be much more expensive than I originally planned. And my money supply is much more limited than I wish it would be.

So, what with the costs of film, processing, printing (myself or having it done), and/or Polaroid film I've slowed down somewhat.

I think I have a handful of Polaroids that I should probably scan and share. Hopefully I'll get around to it eventually.

Until then, I'm still on the lookout for a light-weight 35mm camera that has a look that inspires me (picture taking look, not just physical look) so I can take more pictures for cheaper with a much faster process time. 120 film was wearin' me down.

So, until my next scan, stay tuned and we'll see how this all develops.

Slacking

I've been a terrible routine blogger.

The problem/hassle is scanning pictures.

I don't yet have installed our scanner software/driver into my laptop, but it's on Adam's desktop.

But I prefer to edit them and post them via my laptop.

So in order to post here I have to round up the pictures, scan them in, email them to myself, open them up from my laptop, adjust the colors just a little, then upload them to my blogger album.

I've been keeping busy lately with heavy movie watching, painting, picture developing, and Polaroid taking.Oh, that and living life.

So, hopefully sooner rather than later, I've got something to put up here. You know, for my all of 1 viewer.

Remembering... Waiting...

This is an installation sculpture in rememberance of the Holocaust by George Segal in front of The Legion of Honor in San Francisco.

When I first developed this roll and saw this picture I wasn't quite sure why I took it. I even took a group of them and put it in my pile of trash pictures that absolutely didn't turn out (but I never actually throw away).

But as I was looking through my pictures again for this blog I gave this one a second look.

It's definitely a different feel. It's undeniably creepy.

But there's something about it that, I feel (if I'm gonna toot my own horn), that captures the feelings of the art itself. Something silent, expectant, broken, yet somehow still waiting.

The First Flush of Color

Could it get any better than this?

Club for Film Photographers

I feel like film photographers should have some sort of club. And when you're officially allowed to join it's like a school graduation.

"Yay! I can do it! I have something in common with these awesome photographers!"

I feel like it should imply special discounts, extra recognition, and instant friendship.

I guess that's as ridiculous as expecting to be accepted and liked by someone else because you're the same race.

Either way, I feel like I'm breaking into some sort of secret club. And I can't wait until I start feeling the perks, meeting the other members, and fully coming into my own as an honorary member.

I also feel like I need a new camera.

My bank doesn't support this cause. Neither do the other things needed that have been on the back burner. It also isn't an emergency even if I do feel like if I don't get something new I could die.

If there's anything I've learned it's that no matter the camera, it won't make your pictures any better. Too bad, because if I could buy a magical, awesome, do it all camera, I might. I might get one and then quickly discard it because I've grown to appreciate all my mistakes along the way. They're happy accidents. Maybe my start in toy photography taught me the skill (possibly seen as a flaw) of loving and accepting something that isn't perfect.

In my class I've noticed that everyone else constantly has the goal of perfection. They're angry at strange shadows, light leaks, a little bit of blur, the tiniest shade anomaly. Maybe that should be my goal because they're all much better than I am but I can't help but attach a little bit of love to the first messy couple of prints or test strips I make of a picture.

I'm still formulating ideas for what's supposed to be my first artistic photography series so I'll catch you up when I get there.

If anyone is in the San Francisco/Bay Area area and wants to volunteer as models, let me know!

It may take a little longer but I know I will find my way back...

Tonight I start my next level of Black & White classes.

SX-70: This Just In!

I can barely contain my excitement. Also on the way: First Flush Color starter pack. I could probably scream.

Here's to hoping my Polaroid camera isn't broken (after an in-bag Spanish accident).

Ano Nuevo

Here's a double entry since I slacked off yesterday.

These are from two trips I took to Ano Neuvo a couple of years ago.

If you see any strange lumps in any of these three pictures they're sleeping elephant seals!

When we went the pups (or wieners) were just lounging, playing, and passing the days before being able to leave the beach as young adults.

If anyone is considering going I'd recommend it. It's a nice short walk and what's more exciting than seeing Californian native wildlife?

(I'm still loving the color of the sky from this film)

Searching

There's just something about film and cameras that make my heart beat a little faster.

I've always been a girl of very varied interests. I don't like the term, "jack of all trades" but I think I could qualify for it. Being so spread in interests means that I can get a little excited about everything.

There have been few things that have really entwined itself around my heart though. Few things that, just at a glimpse, could make me feel like I couldn't breathe. Maybe this is all just veiled materialism but it feels deeper.

Seeing the grain and fuzz and physical presence of film makes me feel the same as yellowed old books that twist me into time, or a dance that lifts and spins. It hurts me. It makes me ache, ache for something more. Like my life is missing something.

It's this feeling that makes me feel like I shouldn't leave ignore the creative side of myself when considering a future career. I can't imagine being happy longterm going day in and day out without being able to use something of beauty. My life now oftentimes feels absolutely empty of beauty, empty of meaning, and empty of that breathless anticipation of loving something you're creating.

So, today I bought new film (too expensive film.) I'll let you know when it comes a-rumbling in.

Close, Closer

Sands of Time