In 45 years, I can count the number of cameras I have taken meaningful pictures with by using the fingers of two hands. Three of these cameras are still in regular rotation. Another is well maintained and could be of service if called upon. Two were traded in for upgrades along the way. Three now rest peacefully in happier pastures. Of these three, a Ricoh KR-30 Program, sits as a potential organ donor on a shelf in California. Two sit on a bookcase in the Photo-den of my house, a shelf below a stash of film and chemicals and a shelf above a growing collection of photobooks. They share the shelf with relics from Jenny’s family, 2 – 100 year old box cameras that work but with no right sized film to be found.
The trouble is, you think you have time.
Old cameras have always held a special place in my heart. Especially, the classic cameras of the past that were often built like precision timepieces. After my father’s passing, I inherited several of his cameras. They are the only possessions of his that I have. His former cameras are all valued, but the one that has held the most significance has been the Minolta Autocord. It’s not just a camera. It’s a collector and custodian of memories.
I went to Barcelona for the first time in September of 2019. I was in awe of the beautiful, vibrant city as much as the beautiful, vibrant people that live there. Walking Barcelona was quite enjoyable, and whenever I got tired there was always a nice little vermuteria nearby. For those that are not in the know: good vermouth, a couple cubes of ice, carbonated water, an olive and an orange makes for the most beautiful day time drink you could ever wish for. (please follow appropriate age guidelines, cheers)