For a special someone’s birthday, we planned a special little surprise. Though she probably saw it coming (the six hours of airplane mode kind of gave it away), she was blindsided by our Santa Barbara getaway. I on the other hand came prepared with the Pentax 67 ready to capture the weekend with a little color, a little black and white, and a whole heap of California light (see what I did there?)
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I have a list, and it’s naughty, not nice. It’s a list that gets me in trouble, and one that often keeps me up at night. Ok, ok, so it’s a wish list, a camera wish list, a living document that ebbs and flows with obsessions of the moment. Last week, however, I crossed something off that list. I couldn’t be happier.
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Though it was a wedding that brought our clan to Oregon, I think we’d all agree that it was the time spent at Hartung Farms that defined the trip. It’s an amazing spot and welcome retreat from the concrete sprawl, full of wonderful things and even more wonderful people. Thankfully, our hosts put up with our pool intrusions, even throwing some burgs on the grill without a second thought. After all the splashing about it was hard to say goodbye, but we left the compound en route for Salem, not knowing that we had just experienced the calm before the (literal) storm…
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I have learned to let my photos “marinate,” in other words, take the images then leave them alone for a while so that when I come back everything is removed from the moment and fresh. It helps me be more objective in my edits, and I love forgetting exactly what I shot only to rediscover old goodies. That being said, I have been seriously abusing the method, using it as rationale for laziness in revisiting backlogged photos (see Vietnam, Argentina, Japan ext.) Thus the reason this July 4th post comes in exactly 78 days after the event. If my memory serves me correctly, the day started with an afternoon soiree into Brooklyn for another epic lunch at Diner, followed by much lounging until the evening. After dinner, the streets running towards the river were already blockaded, and masses of people were in a Grapes of Wrath migration uptown searching for the mythical opening. Poor Lauren couldn’t handle the sea of GP (general population) and had to bail out, but rest of the group continued onward in the search of open space. Unlike last year where we casually found a nice spot to lounge, we were forced to settle for a minute sliver of concrete among an ocean of observers, but at least we were gutting it out. The show was amazing as always, but I found myself much more interested in watching the people. Looking back I guess I could was doing the same thing, but everyone was busy watching the display through their displays, holding up all kinds of electronic devices to record the fleeting moment. I found it a fascinating, and wondered if they were enjoying the event or too worried about capturing it. Adding to my fascination was the fact that along with the Canon I had loaded the Leica with some Delta 3200 for the first time, and was eager to see how it would turn out. Not only that, but it was my first date with the Leica itself, so needless to say I was a little bit happy. The film itself came out gritty and grainy (increased a bit by my poor handling and suspect scanning), with a totally different feel than the digital files but adding beauty in their own right. I don’t think I’m sold on the 3200, but it was a fun experiment that produced my favorite shot of the night, see if you can guess which one.
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Ya I was jetlagged, ya it was early, but ya you’re damn right I rallied just 4 hours after touching down in LA to head over to Irvine Spectrum to check out the monthly car show with Robly in tow. The goods were out on display, and the variety of mufflers and mullets was gosh darn impressive. Sure there were Ferraris, Maseratis, Lamborghinis, and Teeny Weenies, but it was the revamped classics that stole my heart. Despite the candy apple reds and fluorescent greens, I couldn’t help myself from seeing in black and white, highlighting vintage lines to place these automotive classics back in the era in which they belong. Oh ya, and there was a f***ing ferret…how’s that for a hook.
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[gwu] Graham Whitaker Unterberger 