camera lucinda

Wow I love how submitting work to a blog shows your skills of effective time management above every post (ahem).

I wasn't a huge fan of the narrative in the excerpts I read from Camera Lucinda. I think the author attempted at making his vision and feelings way too fancy-sounding. I just checked the date on the book, it was written in 1980 so that doesn't really excuse the labyrinth of words he used to tip toe around his point. It took me until the last excerpt to really get what he was getting at. When he did, I realized it was something that I've contemplated a lot and something I'm sure a lot of other people think about as well. For two summers I attended a really awesome film making camp in Los Angeles. The first year I went I was 14, and the short film I made was about a young girl frustrated with the separation between herself and how photographs depicted her.

I am constantly frustrated with this concept. In fact sometimes I think "obsessed" might be a better word. The best photographs I have ever taken have illuminated or exaggerated some part of a personality I love. It could be my own, it could just be somebody I care for, but ultimately I feel translating a component of someone's essence is my ultimate goal in photography. That's often why I feel I can take great photos of someone I know well, or myself. When put in situations with someone where they allow themselves to be truly vulnerable is when their best moments are able to be captured on film. And these moments are really very refreshing and probably the best part of photos.

I like that all photos become historic, almost like a catalog. I like that by seeing photos of someone you know presently in their past you are taken to an entirely new world. Before writing this I looked through an album I posted on facebook specifically for old photos-- photos that existed on my first computer, photos that existed before they had anywhere to go (facebook). Most of these photos triggered in me several smells, sounds, emotions and seasons for me. They really hit me for a second and even the cold feeling of the tiles in my bathroom at my old house returned to me in a rush.

Here are a few of the photos, even though I know this is a written response. Blogging likes photos:















































































See now I must stop, as it is becoming overwhelming. Though to those reading this, these photos are probably vague clues in the history of a stranger in your interactive new media class. Or maybe you recognize someone or some place, or maybe they set you off on a mental album of nostalgic ridden photos of your own. Or maybe not.

Additionally here are a few photos others have taken of me that have captured parts of me I didn't think I had:































































These photos couldn't have been taken by myself, or a stranger, as they were taken in situations of restless comfort where I allowed myself to show a cold dark box a part of me that could potentially be worth documenting.

Over all, a good read.