I’m starting a new series called “the weight of the camera and the thunk of its shutter.” There are several reasons for it. First, I’ve just stopped working and so between that and the impending cross-country move and new home to save for, money has to tighten up around here, meaning I have less money for developing film. I do have several rolls of peel-apart still left in the fridge, so I need not stop shooting altogether (like I could anyway?!).
Second, as I get all sentimental about this place we’ve called home over the last several months, it becomes more apparent that a photo can’t quite say it all. There are scents, sounds, and tastes that may remain particular to this place, this large home I once called “Christmas” for getting the chance to live in. There may also be moments outside this place, and the series may likely continue on with me to Tacoma, but the idea is that I’d like to deliberately place myself in one present moment and really soak it up and savor it.
For me, photography isn’t just about skill, or pretty things, or adventuring to shoot. It is also about really being present and appreciating a moment, and not just the obviously “special” ones. As a sentimental collector who can’t ever throw away the Easter bunnies I got every year, I still feel it important to collect memories on film. To hold the moment on paper in your hands years later and say, “remember that?!” Call me sappy, go ahead. I’ll need not defend myself, as instead I’ll be proud. Among the photographs that I still dust off every now and then of my ancestors, my grandmothers, my mother who is no longer with us, and my cousin who left us too early, my own little moments of time and space may also be remembered. Myself, maybe even others, will sit one day like I did, with a decaying box, and its contents spread across the bedspread, captivated by these people, places, and scenes that will never happen again in just that way, fascinated by the details.
That said, those photographs still leave to the imagination the scents, smells, and sounds. For a little while, I’d like to give those things a voice, too. It is also simply an exercise in being present: what do you see, smell, hear, taste, and feel right now?