I am afraid of actual photographers. I mention that I have developed an interest in photography and that I have a blog dedicated to it, but I know what sorts of images wait there to be found by them... Images that are very bad by anybody else's standards. I love these out of focus partial-truths and distortions.
I happened to start talking to a woman today about photography. I told her that I was on the verge of making the great decision to fall towards either Canon or Nikon, and that by doing so I knew that would push me towards that company, and their lenses, from here on out. At the end of our conversation I gave her this web-address, the first time I have done so to a stranger, I think. My hand shook as I wrote the address, knowing that it would be images like this that she would find. Fear.
My mother in law has a box of cameras that shoot actual film. Everybody else that I know is afraid of real cameras because film is so expensive and mistakes so costly. But that is the very thing that draws me to them, though I don't own one. I am in love with my mistakes, something I haven't been able to make with such freedom since youth, very early youth. I want a physical copy of these mistakes. To be able to hold a horrific mistake in my hand, like rubbing a scar, like looking at journal entires from puberty ; hilarious, demented, painful, renderings and false poses and postures.
I am amazed at the actuality of it all...
