What a beautiful sentiment, Ash; I know exactly what you mean! My soul is ruminating on something right now, hoping for clarity. I'm glad to hear yours is a bit clearer. In fact, just knowing that helps! :)
„a figment of an overactive imagination, the remnant of a potential I once hoped to reach“ - what a beautiful descritpion. I have plenty of those! Beautiful photographs, Al!
I used to have that feeling you described about darkroom equipment. Mine was stashed for years in the garage, hoping one day, I’d get a space. But, it never materialized. I finally gifted them to a trusted friend who built his own darkroom. At least, they’ll have a new home. He said I always have an open invitation to print there. I just wish he lived closer. This new series is beautiful, full of depth and emotion. I love them— I’m happy to know despite the dread you are continuing to create new images. That’s what matters.
You're so kind, Stella - thank you. I'm glad your darkroom equipment found a home, but still. That's a tough thing to say goodbye to.
The man I bought my equipment from had used it extensively for a long time. Even so, everything had ended up in storage. He seemed happy that it was going to someone who would bring it new life, and even gave me a giant hug, TWO giant hugs, which made me feel good. It felt like an exchange of energy between us, a changing of the guard. One day, if the equipment is still working, I'll hopefully pass it on to someone else. Who knows. The first step is just building the space! We'll see how things go from there. :)
I appreciate you reading and looking, as always. Your insight is invaluable!
Beautiful photos, but the unforgettable one for is the first one for me. It's absolute poetry.
I don't know if you'll use the darkroom equipment or cook the squash, but you certainly have amazing photos.
I like the idea that buying a squash is buying responsibility. I feel the same about photography equipment: if you bought it you should use it. I have hundreds of cameras, and I haven't used half of them once.
But of course you don't need to use them. It's like unread books on your shelves: the undead books you bought tell more about you than the ones you've read. They're hope, they're fascist, they're projection, they're who you want to be.
Your squash, your darkroom equipment tell you who you want to be.
Cedric, thank you. I second your pick of the first photo. It's the one I return to most, for the same reason. I'm glad you see it, too!
I know what you mean about collecting cameras. I'm starting to accumulate a few, and I feel sympathy for the ones I don't use all that often. Yet, I can't seem to part with them! They seem to have a collective energy and can't be separated.
Also, it's like you said, these things - books, cameras, fantasies - tell us about ourselves. They are like friends in that way. It's good to keep them close, even when they feel far.
I will certainly keep that in mind the next time I wander down to the basement and see the darkroom equipment sitting there, patiently waiting. Even today, after writing and sharing this piece, I feel less intimidated.
Anyway, thank you so much for your comment. Very wise and philosophical!
You always clear the dust of things my soul has been ruminating on.
What a beautiful sentiment, Ash; I know exactly what you mean! My soul is ruminating on something right now, hoping for clarity. I'm glad to hear yours is a bit clearer. In fact, just knowing that helps! :)
Let's keep writing, I'm so encouraged by your corner here on substack.
Yes! Let's keep writing!
So good to dwell awhile in your enchanting words and bewitching images, Al ❤️ How brightly indeed your candle burns 😉😊
Thank you, Lizzie! ❤️❤️🕯️
„a figment of an overactive imagination, the remnant of a potential I once hoped to reach“ - what a beautiful descritpion. I have plenty of those! Beautiful photographs, Al!
Glad to know I'm not alone :) Thanks, Susanne!
I used to have that feeling you described about darkroom equipment. Mine was stashed for years in the garage, hoping one day, I’d get a space. But, it never materialized. I finally gifted them to a trusted friend who built his own darkroom. At least, they’ll have a new home. He said I always have an open invitation to print there. I just wish he lived closer. This new series is beautiful, full of depth and emotion. I love them— I’m happy to know despite the dread you are continuing to create new images. That’s what matters.
You're so kind, Stella - thank you. I'm glad your darkroom equipment found a home, but still. That's a tough thing to say goodbye to.
The man I bought my equipment from had used it extensively for a long time. Even so, everything had ended up in storage. He seemed happy that it was going to someone who would bring it new life, and even gave me a giant hug, TWO giant hugs, which made me feel good. It felt like an exchange of energy between us, a changing of the guard. One day, if the equipment is still working, I'll hopefully pass it on to someone else. Who knows. The first step is just building the space! We'll see how things go from there. :)
I appreciate you reading and looking, as always. Your insight is invaluable!
I didn't buy pumpkin this year but instead chose a swede like my dad used to do. Such a hard vegetable. My hands hurt after I scooped it out.
Ohhhh. I had to look up what a swede was, and that's what we call a rutabaga! Those ARE hard.
Beautiful photos, but the unforgettable one for is the first one for me. It's absolute poetry.
I don't know if you'll use the darkroom equipment or cook the squash, but you certainly have amazing photos.
I like the idea that buying a squash is buying responsibility. I feel the same about photography equipment: if you bought it you should use it. I have hundreds of cameras, and I haven't used half of them once.
But of course you don't need to use them. It's like unread books on your shelves: the undead books you bought tell more about you than the ones you've read. They're hope, they're fascist, they're projection, they're who you want to be.
Your squash, your darkroom equipment tell you who you want to be.
Cedric, thank you. I second your pick of the first photo. It's the one I return to most, for the same reason. I'm glad you see it, too!
I know what you mean about collecting cameras. I'm starting to accumulate a few, and I feel sympathy for the ones I don't use all that often. Yet, I can't seem to part with them! They seem to have a collective energy and can't be separated.
Also, it's like you said, these things - books, cameras, fantasies - tell us about ourselves. They are like friends in that way. It's good to keep them close, even when they feel far.
I will certainly keep that in mind the next time I wander down to the basement and see the darkroom equipment sitting there, patiently waiting. Even today, after writing and sharing this piece, I feel less intimidated.
Anyway, thank you so much for your comment. Very wise and philosophical!
Beautiful photos, Al. I especially love the emotional feeling I get from the last two. Very nice.
Oh, that's so nice to hear. Thanks, Todd! I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment.