I take for granted how much effort photography used to be, especially now that I, and most others, carry a very good camera at all times - i.e. on our smartphones.
At a recent family reunion, there were photo albums out for viewing, many of the photos dating from before 1990. At one point the discussion was about how photos were so expensive in the early and mid 20th century and an individual would be lucky to have a handful of photos of themselves from childhood. Funny enough, it seemed that those photos, albeit a limited bunch, were the ones that were still on display - photos from more recent years were missing.
As photography has gotten faster, cheaper, and easier, we’ve lost the tangible memories it can create. I don’t know about you but I rarely review my digital photo albums or photo roll. Not only that, but the act of photography itself has also lost its role in my life as an art form. I always have a “camera” in my pocket, and therefore rarely use it.
When I was in high school, my friend and I were in photography club. We had our B&W film cameras and we took small excursions to different locations around town simply to photograph them. I remember one particularly inspiring trip when we spent a good portion of a day hanging around the local cemetery, taking pictures of interesting graves and local flora. We developed those photos by ourselves in a makeshift lab in the closet of our media room and I put those prints in an album.
I’ve always loved photography as a way to express myself in a visual art form, but also as a way to observe the world around me. Sometimes the camera can be used as a crutch - to take photos of the experiences in life that we don’t want to forget, but when we do that we often end up missing out on in the moment itself. But photography can also be used as a sensory enhancer.
When I take my DSLR camera with me (I no longer develop film), I see the world in a different way. I see the shadows as they fall on the ground. I see the light as it dances through the trees. I see the texture of the bark on a tree in my backyard that I pass every day. I see the ants crawl up and down the tree in two neat rows, to and fro.
Time is slowing down and I’m feeling, smelling, hearing, and experiencing every aspect of it.
If you’re looking for a way to slow down and tune in, consider picking up an “old-school” camera and thinking about the world from a new point of view. It doesn’t have to be analog or expensive, but it shouldn’t have any other features other than taking photos.
When you give it a try, let me know what you see. Did you experience anything familiar in a new way?
Best wishes,
Lana