MOMA has a photography exhibit, appropriately, Ocean of Images: New Photography 2015. It runs through March 20 and I hope to plan an escape some weekend. It seems that each year, this exhibition—like others that explore trends and new artists in a given medium—brings out the opposing camps: “No, this isn’t photography” in one corner versus “Of course it is, it’s a new, fresh look at photography” in the other. Time marches on so change is inevitable, good or bad. For now, I take a look back.
These B&W photos—like the ones in Remnant and Remnant v2 come from the same collection or year they were taken, which was sometime in 1973. I am particularly moved by this photo, a portrait of a teacher I had in high school. Mr. Dinsmore was his name. He had an emotional quotient [EQ] that was apparent long before EQ became a chapter in any number of business management books and case studies. First and foremost, he was a very good english literature teacher.
Sadly, I learned that Mr. Dinsmore passed away, a brain tumor taking him from the school and his charges. His spirit—and my memory of him—lives on.
I love “time machines.” Old print ads, mechanical cameras and fountain pens, and of course, museums.
Coming across black & negatives and prints—especially those you haven’t seen in decades—is a journey all its own. I’m not waxing forlornly for the past, but I am revisiting these slices of time: what are the “whys” and “wheres” of these images?
If you’re curious, you’ll find my most recent post here.
It doesn’t take a whole lot to keep me entertained. While on vacation I took some photos using outdated medium format film [120 Fuji NPH 400 color negative].
It is true that using film cameras can slow you down, but that’s not a bad thing if you want to slow things down a bit. Shooting medium format film—to me anyway—can be relaxing. I have to think, be immersed if you will, because everything is manually and mechanically accomplished: shutter speed, aperture, exposure, film advance, loading/unloading and so forth.
Call it nostalgia, but I get a lot of pleasure controlling my cameras versus having cameras control everything right up to when the shutter is pressed.
As is often said, the only constant in life is “change.” From the simple, to the complex, there’s an undeniable commonality about anything that changes: something is altered, modified, created or destroyed.
Such is the case when the Homestead recently sold. No longer a home, it is now a house, an empty canvas ready for what every new homeowner does to a key living space: change it to make it their own. In effect our ancestral abode has shed the attributes that made it our home. Think of a brand losing or morphing its attributes into qualities altogether different. Such qualities are not entirely alien, but changed enough to see and feel a difference from what was once a space all too familiar.
It’s been decades since I lived at the Homestead full-time. At present, I choose to recall good memories as the not-so-good memories dissolve into the negative space created by vacated furniture and other items. As noted in a lyric from a Carol King song, “…yesterday’s gone, but today remembers…”
For all the complaints and whining about winter, well, others prefer to do something other than wish for warmer days or no snow. Why waste the days feeling grumpy? This is a simple study of warmth found in the cold of winter.