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emotional revelation, at f 2.8
Mar. 2nd, 2003 08:16 pmHad a strange, lovely moment this evening, walking along the Hudson river toward the esplanade. Previous plans had fallen through due to the subway system's weekend service changes, and the evening stretched out before me, with nothing pressing on my mind. I was heading south past Pier 26, where I go kayaking in warmer weather, looking out at the sun setting over New Jersey, and boom, the part of my mind that is always, always, always thinking about photography kicked in:
If I had a camera, I'd take a picture from here, with, say, a 25 mm lens- get that nice panoramic effect. Those pilings extending out into the water are nice, too; they give a good diagonal, and they'll give nice silhouettes against the sun-dappled water. Use 64 ASA color film- definitely color- or perhaps 125; don't want any grain on this, and it's fine if most of the image falls off- the sunset itself is the key point of the frame. Wish I had a model- I'd have them stand there, leaning out over the water like that- nice compositional effect, and the magic hour light would be lovely on their skin.
I went to film school for three years; I know a fair bit about photography; I've been complemented on my work before. Not a day of my life goes by that I don't think, if this were a scene in a movie, I'd film it like this, and move the camera like that. Several years ago, I had some emotional problems; by the time I recovered, the cameras had been sold for food money; at my worst, when I truly believed that this was now and would be my life, I'd thrown the photos away, unable to bear the reminder of this beautiful thing I'd been able to do, and now couldn't.
It's hurt and baffled me for years that I turned away so completely for so long; even when I had but the major parts of my life back together, and had a regular income, I never replaced the cameras, or the images. Even though I've taken pictures now and again with perfectly acceptable results (Some of them are scattered through here, although I'm less than enthralled with the post production fiddling they received at someone else's hands, and the models weren't chosen by me. Still, I was handed this at the last moment by a friend, came up with the visual concept based on his rather nebulous description of what he needed while walking over to his house, and ran a shoot with several (non-professional) models smoothly and efficiently.) It's not nearly enough, though, and it wasn't until talking to mom on the phone the other day that I realized the true problem. She was describing how she found a former companion's behavior to be disappointing, and I was being sympathetic, when I had a realization that both chilled and enlightened me: Disappointment. This is what's holding me back. I'm afraid I'll pick up the camera, take thoroughly mediocre pictures, and wind up thinking, "That wasn't anything at all like it was back in the day (when I was taking pictures regularly, and would often go through several rolls of film to find three or four exposures that met my standards)- what the fuck what I thinking? Am I just fucking kidding myself?"
Scary, scary stuff. Dreams are the true sustenance; the thought of those dreams being broken is terrifying... but the thought of reaching the end of my life, of not having reached for it- that, I am coming to see, is worse. I wish this revelation were accompanied by the trumpeting of the angels, a shaft of sunlight from the heavens, and several ready-to-print high quality negatives- but it isn't. It's simply knowing what the problem is. That is the terror, and the adventure.
If I had a camera, I'd take a picture from here, with, say, a 25 mm lens- get that nice panoramic effect. Those pilings extending out into the water are nice, too; they give a good diagonal, and they'll give nice silhouettes against the sun-dappled water. Use 64 ASA color film- definitely color- or perhaps 125; don't want any grain on this, and it's fine if most of the image falls off- the sunset itself is the key point of the frame. Wish I had a model- I'd have them stand there, leaning out over the water like that- nice compositional effect, and the magic hour light would be lovely on their skin.
I went to film school for three years; I know a fair bit about photography; I've been complemented on my work before. Not a day of my life goes by that I don't think, if this were a scene in a movie, I'd film it like this, and move the camera like that. Several years ago, I had some emotional problems; by the time I recovered, the cameras had been sold for food money; at my worst, when I truly believed that this was now and would be my life, I'd thrown the photos away, unable to bear the reminder of this beautiful thing I'd been able to do, and now couldn't.
It's hurt and baffled me for years that I turned away so completely for so long; even when I had but the major parts of my life back together, and had a regular income, I never replaced the cameras, or the images. Even though I've taken pictures now and again with perfectly acceptable results (Some of them are scattered through here, although I'm less than enthralled with the post production fiddling they received at someone else's hands, and the models weren't chosen by me. Still, I was handed this at the last moment by a friend, came up with the visual concept based on his rather nebulous description of what he needed while walking over to his house, and ran a shoot with several (non-professional) models smoothly and efficiently.) It's not nearly enough, though, and it wasn't until talking to mom on the phone the other day that I realized the true problem. She was describing how she found a former companion's behavior to be disappointing, and I was being sympathetic, when I had a realization that both chilled and enlightened me: Disappointment. This is what's holding me back. I'm afraid I'll pick up the camera, take thoroughly mediocre pictures, and wind up thinking, "That wasn't anything at all like it was back in the day (when I was taking pictures regularly, and would often go through several rolls of film to find three or four exposures that met my standards)- what the fuck what I thinking? Am I just fucking kidding myself?"
Scary, scary stuff. Dreams are the true sustenance; the thought of those dreams being broken is terrifying... but the thought of reaching the end of my life, of not having reached for it- that, I am coming to see, is worse. I wish this revelation were accompanied by the trumpeting of the angels, a shaft of sunlight from the heavens, and several ready-to-print high quality negatives- but it isn't. It's simply knowing what the problem is. That is the terror, and the adventure.
