a big pitcher of the world
on looking and photography
On a lazy morning with no plans, I wonder how I might spend my time. Lying in bed, I look around my room, the way the sunlight drifts through the gaps in my curtains. The reflections of cars passing by create small ellipses that move across the ceiling. My eyes move across my computer monitor, my lamp, my notebooks, the withering flowers. They look at my different cameras, imagine what images they could capture.
What could the day look like? I could sit in a cafe and write, read on my couch. But those ideas seem less interesting as a semblance of a plan begins to take shape: walking with a camera in hand, trying to make good on the promise of beauty that every camera suggests. I don’t feel like being in my head today, I just want to be in the world.
I take my camera for a walk. I spend more time looking up than usual, seeing how roofs in the neighborhood poke into the azure sky, how leaves and branches ornament the boundary between earth and heavens. I notice graffiti on street corners, stare at the shadows that usually don’t ever reach my awareness. It’s hot, but I find myself at the park, watching people play volleyball or cricket or have conversations while languidly moving through the humid air. I take a few dozen photos as I walk and notice, and the world seems clearer than usual. I return home, feeling full, like I’ve drunk a big pitcher of the world that day.
I spend the afternoon editing photos, adding film simulation effects, playing with color and highlights and shadows to try to make something match the joy I felt. None of the photos are any good; the compositions are awkward, the trees are out of focus, the sun washes everything out. But I don’t mind. I had a wonderful walk where I noticed things, and I’ll do the same again and again.
As I’ve been trying to get back into photography, I’ve gone looking for advice to guide me on my journey. My favorite is a simple phrase: “f/8 and be there.” f/8 is a simple general purpose aperture, an average choice to represent the unimportance of technical details compared to the actual advice: be there in the world and take photos.
I spend my day job creating things on my computer, I spend my free time writing essays on my laptop, I spend other times designing posters from my couch, but photography won’t let me stay still. I have to go somewhere to make something beautiful, for once. I have to go looking. Looking for what? Well, that’s half the fun.
For the magazine Aperture, David Campany writes,
“We cannot decide what is going to affect us at the most profound level. It might be canyons or clouds; or it might be city lights. It might be a glass on a table, a fold in a sleeve, or a smile on a face. The spiritual is not something we can be instructed to feel, and when the feeling comes, it is unpredictable.”
What affects me profoundly? Sometimes something ordinary is made dramatic and interesting by the shadows, or the dying light of the setting sun. I try to capture them to the best of my ability, and wonder if they’ll affect me when I look back at them.
When I look at my old photos, I find blurry portraits of people I used to spend time with and they are beautiful. I see pictures of my old dorm room and they are beautiful. I probably thought they were no good at the time, but they connect me to a time I can no longer reach, some people I can never see again.
I had forgotten I loved photography, that I’d decorate my walls with images that I made, that my friends always remembered me with a camera in hand, that I’d hope the photos I took of them would become their profile pictures. But now, I remember it all.
💧 Drops of the Week 💧
ALBUM - Chet Baker Sings by Chet Baker - possibly my favorite album of all time
POEM - “Summer Song” by William Carlos Williams - a detached / sleepily indifferent / smile