La Macchina Fotografica

“I wish I were in Italy right now,” I thought. Then, suddenly, I became aware of my mental complaining. Sometimes the camera will do that to you. It wants to find something exotic. On this particular morning my macchina fotografica wanted an italic slant on things. All I could give it was a simple walk around the hood which is actually good practice for the mind’s eye. If you can make images in suburbia you can make them anywhere.

Generally, come the month of February, I start getting antsy. The nesting instinct starts getting old. I look at the migratory birds and wonder when I might fly somewhere for the new season. Pretty soon our feathered friends are leaving this habitat. I might like to go with them.

While busy making migratory plans I came across a homely post, set in concrete. “Nothing here,” I told myself and my camera. Then I looked with more intent. There actually was something about this tiny scene that appealed to me. I got lost in the moment. A weak, winter sun provided a moment of golden illumination. I made an image. The moment left along with the shaft of sunlight. I felt sprinkles on my back.

Instead of longing for Italy I completed my walk with camera, looking for more images like a hawk does for his breakfast. My step quickened as my anticipation for an exotic journey waned. It was replaced by my desire to get to the studio and see my post picture. When I got back I was not disappointed.

Related posts:

1. Staring at a Post I stood at a fence post. On a path near my home. The morning light was like a flood lamp in my studio. At the end of a rare April heat wave, I could feel the radiance on my back and neck. The path is the remnants of an old railroad spur that once connected [...]...
2. The Three Palms of Suburbia Living in suburbia is a sweet experience with the metallic aftertaste of Aspartame. I stand in my own shadow as steel SUVs shuttle the neighborhood children to and fro. The agendas of modern mothers leave me in their dust. Lessons. Little League. School. After School. 3:00 PM in this town is the Wild West. I walk [...]...
3. The Same Path Just about every day I walk a three-mile loop near our home. Sometimes I mutter to myself along the way. Muttering seems to be an art form that comes with a certain age. When I was thirty I rarely muttered. Now I mutter daily along the daily walk. The scary thing is that I often [...]...
4. Monument Photography has the ability to impart monumental importance upon the most mundane of objects. The tactile lusciousness of a deliberately crafted photo almost automatically makes anything with texture to be important. Texture, form, and singularity are the essence of monument and photography, as a visual medium, gives us the tools to achieve this effectively. I almost [...]...
5. Old Friends I walk around the neighborhood a lot, usually with my camera. Sometimes I catch myself wishing I were in a more exotic place but often I’m just happy to be outside with my camera. Some of my most cherished photos were found within blocks of home. The ritual of regularly making images in the neighborhood [...]...
6. Flying Meetings—business meetings, that is—drive me crazy. Every one of them feels like slow death. I’ve never been to one that brings out the best in anyone, especially the best in me. I was a manager at 25, a vice president at 29, and a burnout at 40. Meetings, even today, at the age of 54, [...]...
7. Of Ghosts and Other Things Several years ago, while studying for my MFA, I realized that photographic images from my past possessed enormous power. Looking through old family albums were like mystical journeys into the unknown. All these souls staring back at me—some I knew, many I didn’t. I did the arithmetic. Most were gone now, their once bright and [...]...
8. Curious about Pole Dancing? Suburbia. It feels like a dream in which a towering mountain of wet wool buries my sorry soul deep within it. In that dream I poke my head out of the suffocating mass of animal fur. I am nearly decapitated by a black SUV as it rushes past me. Some crazed woman is taking her [...]...
9. Mapping the Neighborhood A walk around the block—we tend to think of it as a numbing experience. It’s just a walk around the block. It’s the same block with the same cars and the same people and the very same smells and sights and sounds. Like some swinging pocket watch of a stage hypnotist, the sameness lulls us [...]...
10. A Fond Remembrance of Film Yesterday I pulled out my Linhof 4×5 camera to photograph some original artwork for a client and fellow artist. I don’t use the camera much these days except for utilitarian jobs like this. This is a shame. The camera is stunningly beautiful in every way; simple, elegant, a distillation of photography into its purist form. [...]...