simple pleasures....

reading by the sea...

summer finds us here

summer finds us here
Originally uploaded by rjrphoto

View On Black

my daughter and i were out on an expedition, chasing the end of the sun. the light on the water caught my eye and we made our way over. we'd heard faraway voices, and found the source...a group of boys jumping from the pier.

i had my sx-70 out and we walked towards them...as we passed, one of the boys turned his head and said "hey, doesn't the film come out the front of that?" he called the others over, and it turned into a frenzy of excitement, all asking questions and wanting a picture taken. another said "it's not like digital, you can't see the picture straight away", and i explained how i actually liked waiting, how it was exciting to watch what was going to happen, not like digital cameras. yet another boy, who hadn't said much, gave a quick nod towards the sx-70 and said, "sure, that's better."

i asked if they wanted a picture (after a quick nod of acknowledgment from a nearby parent), got them together and took one. i gave it to one of them to hold...they were careful, "don't bend it", "don't get it wet"...and they watched their group picture appear...

i walked over to the parents, gave them the photo and had a nice chat...people remembering old family photos and polaroid cameras. i took a few more shots and gave them away. this one i kept...

transition year

Last week, I went to the graduation ceremony for my daughter's transition year at St. Al's in Carrigtwohill. Beforehand, it was a long day of not eating, conference calls and board meetings. I left the office 15 minutes before the evening was meant to start - I grabbed a tank of gas, a croissant and a bottle of water, and hurried over.

Because I was showing up just as it began, all the seats were gone. So I stood at the back and watched as the teachers, then the girls, reviewed the year. They spoke of all the events, projects, trips that they worked on, and that in some way, we the parents worked on with them. They gave little speeches, had slideshows, played music with guitars and flutes. They gave out gifts and tokens of gratitude. But what struck me most was how sincerely they spoke about the experience, particularly in relation to the teachers. And how much the whole experience meant to them, and affected them. I got the sense that, despite the deadlines, the commitment and hard work, they really enjoyed the year.

The principal spoke, commenting on how the transition applied to the girls themselves, how they had changed over the year, in part to do with the types of activities they were involved in. I felt I had seen that change myself, and his words seemed fitting.

And as the evening came to a close, and the girls had been handed their "diplomas", and were all up on stage singing "Don't Stop Me Now", I had this moment - fueled by 2 hours of standing, low blood sugar, and plain pride. I had felt it off and on during the evening, this sort of bubbling emotion. I watched my daughter up on stage singing, and I remembered the little girl in the picture, and all of the years in between - and I made my own transition, of sorts. A transition where a father realizes his daughter has become so much more than the old picture. And has done so much and come so far, and was capable of doing it on her own. And most importantly, she has so much more to do, and so much farther to go.

back in the saddle

It's interesting, how something you want to do, really feel like doing, something simple even, gets put on the backburner. I've talked about developing film (mostly to myself) for a good long time now; years literally. It wasn't the cost, it wasn't the time. There was a sizable gap between my desire to do it, and the motivation to get going.

Tolkien said "It's the job that's never started that takes the longest to finish." True enough.

A while back, I did start, to a degree. Went and found myself a couple of developing tanks, a standard Paterson and a lovely steel tank. I love the steel. And they sat. And I stared at them. And weeks passed.

At some point recently, I started looking for chemicals. I made a couple of calls, maybe got in touch with the wrong people on the wrong day. Thought that finding chemicals locally was going to be difficult. And I sat.

Even more recently, I started looking abroad for chemicals, only to find out that either they won't ship them at all (classified as hazardous), or at great cost, more than the chemicals themselves are worth. And I sat.

Finally went onto a photo forum and asked. Like finally asking for directions when you're lost. Exactly like asking for directions when you're lost. I mentioned the local stores I had contacted, and sure enough, someone said "Only just bought chemicals there a couple of weeks ago". And I thought, "Jeez, I was just there and didn't know it".

So I made another call, got verbal confirmation. Made a trip last weekend, and sure enough, there they were. On the floor, pushed to the side, out of sight. But there they were. I felt the spark when I picked up the container, remembering trips to the photo shop in Berkeley, just looking at and holding bottles of chemicals. And holding potential.

Like developing prints, there's a great anticipation when developing film, waiting to open the tank and have a look. Whisper "Come on, show me some images". It's also mixed with dread. There's been a few occasions after opening the tank when something has gone wrong, and you're looking at nothing.

So the preparation starts. The discipline starts. Practice rolling film onto reels. Write out charts of dilutions and times. Check temperatures. And when it's all ready, and you've done the prep work, it starts.

This past week I've developed 4 rolls of film. Film that has been sitting in a Ziplog back since at least April of 1999. Not many rolls, but it's a start. There are about another 20 rolls in that same Ziplog bag. Soon enough, I'll get to them all.

Like any old routines, or hobbies, or jobs, there's comfort in the known, whichever form that comfort comes in. Writing out dilutions and having the smell of fixer on my hands brought me comfort. Some semblance of control in a world where you really have none. And the comfort of anticipation, of something new, something you haven't seen before. It's about time.

the old man and the sea

Back out to Inch beach. It's been awhile since I've been there. Even though I literally live right across the street from the water, it's not the same as standing in front of the sea. It's been raining, but it let up for a bit, long enough to head down to the beach. As we got there, the wind was pushing huge waves in to the shore, perfect for skipping rocks into. As I took some photos and absorbed the smell and feel, a new storm came in - it got dark quick. The rain started soon after. I went to put the cameras back into the car, the walked back out to stand in the rain. When it got too cold, we started heading back to the car, winding our way through the trash and debris that was scattered over the sand. Along the way, I found what looked like pieces of an old boat. I picked a piece up to bring it home, only hesitating a second to think about whether the remains of a boat should stay near the sea. I figured I could give it a more dignified place to rest than with the soda bottles and shopping bags, and brought it home. Still looking for that dignified spot though.