I sort of remember when my father handed me The Brass Brick as I unaffectionately called it for years. Not precisely, but at least withing the ten year bracket that was the 1990s. It was a camera he had bought years before in St. Petersburg during a Russian winter when his trusty Canon failed to function, a solid block of pointless weight in his bag. Some things we can’t overcome, batteries and severe temperatures still don’t play well to this day.
Hello old friend. We have previous. But that is ok, I’m happy to take you out and walk you around. Doing what you do best. Capturing moments in time. Moments he’d nod curtly at and enjoy. I hope.
Film was the beginning of my love for photography. About eight years ago, and already working 100% digital, it happened. I went back to shooting film. I have a humble assortment of cameras, a Polaroid m80, a Mamiya c220, a Rollei 35s a couple of Nikon and recently received a Nikonos IV-A Brooke Sterling made …
My neighbour called around a few weeks ago with a box, a big box, full of cameras. They belong to her father who, as with many things, is moving inexorably onward in time. No longer what he once was he’s moved into care with other people and his possessions are moving on to other homes. From what I know of him he was an avid photographer, and the box I was handed “to see if there was anything worth keeping” was a veritable treasure trove. A Contax 2, a Nikon F2 with 7 pro lenses, an old Brownie Mk1, and among other things a Nikon Nikkormat.
I honestly never thought I would be the “type” to shoot Polaroid photographs at any level. It was only after I saw Wim Wenders exhibition “Instant Stories” that I thought I might be able to bring something different to the medium. My struggle with gear recently has been differentiation, both for my own artistic images, …
