Before I share today's rather lengthy blog entry, let me repeat yesterday's late afternoon announcement of a new gallery of photos called "Edward Hopper visits my home." CLICK HERE to see it.
I've heard it said that each person lives primarily in the past, present or future. I am a present-liver, so much so that I'm apt to forget my own past. Photography is a good example. I've been saying to myself and anyone who would listen that my interest in photography began on July 5, 2006 when I bought my "first SLR," a Canon Rebel XT. Well, that's not exactly true. But I wasn't making it up; I'd just forgotten. In cleaning out our Fibber McGee & Molly hall closet--only the seniors among you will know to whom I'm referring--I found my old camera that I'd bought 35 years ago. Guess what? It was an SLR! I only used that trusty Konica Autoflex TC in auto mode, but it still took good quality film photos. And I used it a lot. We have boxes full of photos to prove it! We also have a few albums, two of them containing black & white prints.
The first album contains a series of images I took over four seasons starting in September 1988. I'd been diagnosed on September 8 with chronic progressive multiple sclerosis, and taking these photos seemed to ground me. Many of them were taken on solitary walks with our dog Timmy. I focused pretty much on whatever came into my line of vision, from empty tampax containers washed up on the beach to the wild deer on Detroit's Belle Isle. At the end of the summer of 1989, I was done. Looking back, I can see that taking these stark black & white images helped me look unflinchingly at my diagnosis and begin to come to terms with it. To be honest, photography was much more effective therapy than two months of visits with a psychiatrist.
The second album contains the black & white photos I took during two weeks spent in Oaxaca, Mexico. In June 1992 I chose to celebrate my 50th birthday by participating in a three-week program intended to introduce Norteamericanos to the reality of life among our sisters and brothers to the south. We started with one week of classes at Erie College in Pennsylvania. While there we learned about Mexico's history, geography, current political and social situation, arts and culture. We also focused strenuously on trying to become somewhat fluent in the Spanish language. Fifteen of us then flew to Oaxaca, while ten went to the Yucatan Penninsula. I'll never forget walking at dusk for miles from the airport carrying our bags to the house where we'd be staying. And we didn't stay down near the zocalo with the tourists either; we were in a house halfway up the mountain in a poor neighborhood. We ten women stayed in five bunk beds in one small bedroom and the five guys stayed in another room. We had to sign up for the two five-minute showers we were allowed each week, and each of us volunteered to work with the poor and/or elderly in town or up on the mountain with the kids. I bet you can guess which job I chose! I'd have to write a book to share all that I learned during those two weeks, but I can say that my heart was broken open and old assumptions came tumbling out. I was never the same again. And taking black & white photos was essential to the process. Color would have "prettified" things too much. I needed to see life as it was, not as I'd imagined it would be.
Not to be too analytical, but it seems that I turn to black & white whenever I need to see with clear eyes.
Regarding digital photography, I bought my first digital point-and-shoot camera in December 2000. For the next six years I posted hundreds of thousands of photos on my daily blog. So even keeping a blog is not new to me.
Oh, the things we don't know about each other! Oh, the things I forget about myself...
