Perhaps all that is keeping you is a silly piece of glass.
If it makes you happy-- then why the hell are you so sad?
This weekend I was able to steal time away by myself. Have you been? We all talk about getting away for some “me” time. That usually happens when the walls of demand come crashing in—when life and work and family are pulling at us, and we feel the need to escape. We have visions of ourselves frolicking around a big city, smiling at strangers, throwing our hats up in the air declaring independence. I always travel with my camera and this trip was no different. Musikfest offers much to all senses and I couldn’t wait to get lost in the crowd. The shots were all there for the taking-- musicians, face painters, festival rides, refillable beer steins, funnel cakes and crafts. FUN was all around me, but I found myself on the outside looking in. Usually, I’m the one in the front row clapping at the street dancers, but this day, I felt different. I thought about forcing the mood and started by snapping a few shots of a young guy getting his face painted. He watched me while I shot and didn’t smile at me—or even so much as acknowledge what I took from him. In a weird way, that took a lot of pressure off of me. For the next few hours, I walked and shot all of the images that spoke of my mood. And I thought about it too, hoping that I might explain it to myself later. Towards early evening, I put away my gear and took off for a long run along Sand Island. My only company was the cargo trains buckling into each other. It took a total of 8 miles to shake the dark and ick off. In the distance, upon my return, I could hear a soothing voice and when I came upon the bridge I could make out one of my favorites-If it Makes you Happy. Sheryl Crow. Live. Perfect irony. In the end, I am grateful to have had the opportunity to explore this side of myself. To document a true reality for me on that particular day. Have you ever?
Isn't it rich? Aren't we a pair?
"I thought about forcing the mood and even snapped a few shots of a young guy getting his face painted. He watched me take the shot and didn’t smile at me—or even so much as acknowledge what I took from him. In a weird way that took a lot of pressure off of me."
LIFE in a cardboard box.
I always understood nostalgia. I understood the need to take photographs--to preserve, record, to document what was. I saved all of my childhood notes (folded up into footballs). I have all of my high school and college football programs, my bad and some good test grades and some pretty horrible wallet pics of classmates. The photos consume a storage area of my basement named "THE ARCHIVES" by my girlfriends. It is my whole life. It is who I was and why I am now. Old boyfriends still smile up at me through foggy glass. The adhesive may have dried on the albums-- but the discolored memories remain.
Last week my daughter Aidan- now 19-- was giggling at all of her instagram shots. There it was. Her rendition of the archives. One big room in one little box--her iphone. That frightened me. The responsibility of her entire history on a phone - a chip-- in the clouds-- I don't know where exactly. What l I do know is, they're not in her hands. This made me nervous and I told her so. What is she going to have to remember all this? All I can imagine is her photos shuffling off into space-- far far away from her. She'll never know what it's like to pour a glass of wine on a rainy day, sit indian-style and go through all of her great "stuff".
Interrupting my dark thoughts Aidan yelled out, "Hey, I heard about a site that prints out all of your instagram shots!"
Within seconds we made the order. 250 treasures-- heading her way in a click. Within a week her life for the past year was at our front door. I couldn't help but smile as I watched her sit cross-legged on the family room floor with little 4x4's surrounding her. The colors of her life made a fantastic pattern on the carpet. Seeing it all out there in front of her had to be so awesome for her. Look at my life! This is what I do!!! After a few hours and a lot of giggling-- she pulled them all in, packed them up in their cool little boxes and headed up the steps.
For me- I felt security, somehow. Secure in the fact that she felt the magic of holding the tangible. Pleased to have watched her see first-hand how much fun it is to have "stuff" to look back on and flip through. Stuff to keep forever. http://printstagr.am/
Got it.
There was a time in my life when I would see things happening or even not happening around me. Sometimes these sightings were obscure, sometimes comical. Years back I saw a couple in their late 80's in front of a Wendy's. She wore a wedding gown. Her vail was blowing in the wind. She held the cup holder and a Wendy's bag while her groom (in a vintage tux) changed their flat tire. Back then a typical feeling overcame me--- my camera! Where is it??? No film! Why now?? I had my young son with me. I spun my car into the mini mall lot and we ran into the Rite-Aid for a throw away camera. When I came out-- they were both sitting in their car eating burgers and a young boy was fixing their tire. I had to say hello and congratulations but worried they might see the sadness in my eyes. I missed the shot. The vision of that couple and might I confess-- many other visions-- still haunts me today. I used to wish my eyes could have a direct connect to an internal shutter that saves. Who could have known that I wasn't too far off from getting my wish. These days-- every day, every moment is an adventure. I have stopped worrying that something extraordinary or even ordinary might happen to spite me- a me without my gear. Even a trip to the BMV gave me a treasure in the above shot chairs. I found such humor in them as they waited-- just like the rest of us. At the end of each day I love to look back on my day and base it on what I got instead of what I missed. May sound crazy to some-- but to me it's a life changer.