Back in The Darkroom

The other day I found myself at The Asheville Darkroom printing pictures. This is my first print in a little over 15 years, a photo taken last summer in New York.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of being back in the darkroom, of re-learning things I once knew like the back of my hand. Everything is vaguely familiar; the test strips, the smell of the chemicals, the sound of the timer. The quiet. I was fourteen when I took my first photography class, now I’m thirty-five. But being in there, under the haze of red light, feels like not much has really changed. I’m so glad to be back.

This Time Last Year, on Kodak Ektar

April Favorites

Moogfest, From Behind

Lots of electronic music was happening this weekend in downtown Asheville. Some of it was straight up nerdy, but a lot of it was pretty cool. I especially enjoyed the people watching.

A Game of Risk, on Film

Bainbridge Day

I don’t really know where to begin. So I suppose I’ll just start writing and figure it out later. It’s quite pretty out right now, in the low 70s today and henceforth all through the week. This weather makes me want to go camping, to sit outside and read a book, to eat fatuoush salad and cilantro green beans, to see friends who have been gone all winter that I miss dearly. I can hardly put into words how badly I want to get in the car and take a road trip. To drive and drive and drive, through mountains, down secondary highways, along an ocean would be nice. To camp wherever we feel like, to get up in the morning with no agenda, no plan, other than to hop in the car and see where we end up. 

Years ago, when we lived in Seattle for a few months, we started what has since become known as Bainbridge Day. We woke up one morning, it was a Wednesday I remember and the sky was the brightest of blues after days of rain, and rather than do our usual of looking for jobs and trying to figure out what we were doing with our life, we decided to get the hell out of town. I had a deadline that day for an article I was writing, but as is a requirement of Bainbridge Day, I shirked my responsibilities, sent an email saying I’d have it done tomorrow and turned my phone off for the rest of the day. Then Drew and I packed a backpack, walked down to the ferry, headed out to Bainbridge Island where we walked around aimlessly for miles, sat by the water, ate mussels, talked for hours over beers, and then as it got dark we got back on the ferry, slowly moving toward the skyline all lit up like Christmas lights.

The one requirement of the day was that we weren’t allowed to talk about anything that stressed us out; money, jobs, perceived family expectations, not feeling creative enough, and so on. All the things that we talked about everyday, all the time, whether out loud or in our heads. We also allowed ourselves to spend money without feeling guilty, two things that for me, usually went hand in hand. The whole day felt so liberating, so wildly exciting to do something so nice for ourselves, to have such carefree fun together even in the midst of so much uncertainty.

Since then we’ve had a Bainbridge Day at least once a year, if not more. They’re always unplanned, on a weekday so you have to shirk some of your responsibilities and expectations of yourself, usually decided by that gut feeling you have sometime in between waking up and walking out the door to go to work. The perfect day to be a tourist in your town. Or to hit the road.

This post is for my dear friend Georgia who is moving to Maine this week and whom I will miss oh so very much. I hope you have yourself some lovely Bainbridge Days in your new town. I can’t wait to be pen pals.

 

Minneapolis, on Film

Back when Drew and I lived in Minneapolis we used to take urban hikes from our house in Northeast, down through Saint Anthony Main, across the Stone Arch Bridge, up along the river path and back over into our neighborhood. This is my most favorite view of the city.

The East River, on Film

I just got four roles of film developed ranging from over three years ago to last fall. Procrastinator? Maybe. I’m not going to deny it. But there’s something kind of magical about being transported back in time to a specific moment I had forgotten about. And with film, much more than digital, I remember those feelings very acutely, how it felt taking that picture, what was going on around me, what I was thinking at the time. Like these six photos I took last June on a walk along the East River to the financial district to meet my sister for a picnic. I remember I made a giant sandwich on a loaf of ciabatta stuffed with fresh tomatoes and basil, red onion, tuna, capers, anchovies and olives. We ate that with potato salad (green onions, fresh dill, dijon, olive oil, white wine vinegar, green beans & walnuts) and cold beer on her friend’s rooftop in Brooklyn.

More memories to come as I sift through these pictures.

Photos I Like

Yesterday it was 65 degrees, today it’s 45 with a whisper of snow on the ground. I took these photos at the end of summer last year, right around the time when you begin to feel a faint whiff of fall in the air.

I’m ready for Spring. There’s nothing quite like it in the South.

Celebration is Contagious

This was the last picture taken at a wedding I shot back in December, a few weeks before Christmas. It was a little past 8pm when we left, Drew and I had been shooting photos since 11am that morning, dodging through icy, bone chilling rain that poured down relentlessly for hours, thankfully letting up in the early afternoon. As the party continued on we said our goodbyes, packed up our gear, walked out to the car buzzing with adrenaline and exhaustion, when we turned around and saw this. There’s something about this picture. I can’t exactly put my finger on what it is, but it feels like the perfect end of a story, the last page of a really good book.

It’s a pretty special thing shooting weddings. To be a casual on-looker, a complete stranger really, trying to figure out who belongs to which family, who’s friends with whom – is that her grandma, is that his cousin, her sister, stepmom, friend? – all the while attempting to be a ninja with my camera so as not to intrude on the moment. I take very seriously the task of creating memories, those sincere moments between people that don’t happen everyday, that only happen on this day, memories that will last far into the future.

Without fail, by the end of the night, I feel transformed. Like I was a real part of the day, not the fly-on-the-wall I started out as. There’s always a moment near the end where I want to put down my camera, grab a piece of cake, a glass of champagne and hit the dance floor. Celebration is contagious. But I like my role as the casual observer, to be able to slip quietly away into the frigid december night, looking out at the cabin all lit up, listening to the faint echoes of music, people laughing, dancing. Savoring the end of a really great night. I pretty much dig it.