I was testing out the fresh battery I loaded into my Olympus camera when the lens door broke off the night before my flight to LA. I've been shooting this camera for over a decade now, and even though it had a lens flare problem since we first met, this camera was something of a constant companion through dozens of moves and travels both near and far. George thought I seemed weirdly unbothered when I told him my camera broke until he noticed I have two other Olympus point-and-shoots (thanks Amanda for rescuing these from your parents' house and gifting them to me). One of them came to OC with me for a wedding that weekend, and I'm thinking about loading my black and white roll (my second ever) into the other. The cameras come and go but at least I'll still have the records they create.
Spring in New York bloomed in fits and starts this year. I went back to DC for a weekend trip last week when there were still bare branches and unfurled magnolia buds on trees only to return to tender greens and sidewalks littered with fallen petals. Back in February, I booked my Amtrak tickets to visit some friends in April thinking we'd wander through the wisteria at Dumbarton Oaks, one of the few DC bucket list items left unchecked after living there for five years. Winter was cold—I thought for sure the bloom would be later than usual, but unfortunately I didn't account for there to be a few unseasonably warm spells in March and early April accelerating peak wisteria after all so they were nearly all gone by the time I arrived.
A week before I left I asked George to teach me how to shoot manual on his mom's DSLR. I wish someone had handed me a camera like this eleven years ago when I first felt the desire to shoot; back then I was so broke I couldn't afford anything more than that first Olympus point-and-shoot I bought for $33.70 off of eBay and a $13 pack of 3 Fujifilm Superia Xtra 400s from Amazon. I've loved my decade of film (and much-improved iPhone cameras), but lately I've been wanting more autonomy over the images I create to experiment with light and depth and color in post. The Dumbarton photos turned out better than expected, but I also still have a lot left to learn with shooting digital and closing the gap between what I want to create and how I actually make it happen. Maybe this is the push I need to finally try shooting in manual on film too.
The photos I originally had in mind were framed by pale purples diluted with white sunshine and shadows that faded into nothing. I thought I wanted a look that was overexposed and dreamy, but when the skies turned grey and the greens got even deeper I couldn't stop thinking about that line from the bridge of Florence + The Machine's "South London Forever" that goes: and I don't know anything / except that green is so green / there's a special kind of sadness that seems to come with spring.
I hope it's beautiful too from wherever you're reading this.
xoxo, vivian
No comments:
Post a Comment