Photography
I remember the one of my first occasions to hold a camera in my hands. I was a teenager. I borrowed my fathers Kodak box camera, a black and white film camera with a fixed shutter speed of 1/30th of a second. The camera was little more than a black box, postage stamp-sized viewfinder, with a lever to trip the shutter.
As a young adult I fell in love with drag racing. I took Dad’s camera to the drag strip to capture images of Plymouth, Dodge, Ford and GM super-stock pro cars as they left the starting line, wheels up. If you know about cameras you understand the difficulty to stopping motion with a slow shutter speed. I captured several images, stoping time with a image on light sensitive film, the “thunder and lightning,” — a 500 horsepower race car, launching from the starting line. Never mind the equipment, clearly inadequate to the subject matter, I adapted. As often as I had occasion to view those 8×10 prints, I felt satisfaction. It felt that by virtue of the camera in hand I was a participant in the event at the race track on that summer’s day.
The years have passed. The satisfaction has endured, deepened, as taking photos has been a habit, an aid to reflection upon the events which have composed my life.
Are we not simply too distracted? Our attention ricochets from thought to thought, the mind simultaneously processing myriads of thoughts, sounds and sights. By contrast the camera lens frames one thin slice of life, painted by photons/wavelengths of energy on a semiconductor photocell. What once was in that moment will never be again. Bearing witness, peering through the viewfinder the body senses that “this” moment speaks to me. And I squeeze the exposure button.
Yes, I was there. I did not know what the experience meant until — I contemplated the image on the LCD screen or held the print in my hand.
