This morning my brother Robbie was getting his final project finished for his Digital Photography class. A local studio printed the images out, and he was attaching the mats to the prints. I stood there watching, wondering about the future of photography.
Back in High School I took a photography class. My Mom found a Canon Rebel at a pawn shop, a nice one, and that trusty old camera was my constant companion for many years. I learned how to develop the film (putting the film roll into a bag, and by touch I would unroll it and then place the roll into a device where I could pore in chemicals, and so forth), and I then developed the pictures in a crowded dark room.
I was lucky in that my family owned a photography business, and my Dad had the dark room setup in his bathroom. It was so crowded in school that I started developing the photos at home. It was late Fall, the Sunset taking place around five, and I would go into the bathroom and set everything up. Towel over the window to protect from possible light. Three trays set out and filled with old, reused chemicals. I would then carry the heavy, large projector and place it securely on the counter. The light exposure didn't have a timer, so I used a piano metronome, set at 60 bpm, and counted out the seconds before shutting off the light. I loved it.
How many people will have that experience in the future?
I was talking to my brothers about it this morning, and they think that film will stick around a little bit longer, because so many photographers love the art. But I predict that it could easily get expensive. It was never cheap to begin with.
But there's something romantic about it, in the same way I find carriages and record players romantic. A charm that can't be erased.
The above picture is one I took, developed both the film and photo, and then matted. It's also the only picture I have of my favorite cat of all time, Angie. My Mom and I adopted her one day while walking the Visalia mall. Never having adopted an animal before, we had no intention of doing so. We were walking by the store front, and Angie caught our eye and heart as we walked past. We paused, looked at each other, not saying a word, and walked back to the store, both going to the same cage amongst a store of cages. We knew she was supposed to come home with us. There was no debate. No discussion. It was just right, it was supposed to happen, and so it did. Nobody at home knew until we showed up with her! And I was late to an Odyssey of the Mind meeting, which just happened to be at my house . . . my friends weren't so happy with my tardiness, but that's okay. Angie was worth it.
Angie was special. She died a year and a half later. It was night, and being an outdoor cat she would travel around. A pack of wild dogs killed her. Poor thing. Happened on one of the hardest days of my life. I was being tested, but I bore the experience with grace . . . though I later had a good cry.
So this photo is precious for many reasons.
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