Olympus TG-6 art filter walk
I’m always searching for a perfect camera companion - or as photographers often refer to, the perfect “every day carry”. It doesn’t exist, of course. In fact I find every camera presents me with a challenge of some kind. And this latest acquisition is a tool I am exploring for the art filters, and in this small sample set, it is the Grainy film 1. There’s nothing extraordinary going on here, but I wanted to have an easy playful time. To explore this rugged little point and shoot for bushwalking and travel, including street photography. Frankly, because I am clumsy. Since hitting my 50s, I am especially, and sometimes spectacularly clumsy. It is why I buy used cameras and lenses. Less heartbreaking when I inevitably drop them, sometimes breaking them. (Don’t ask how often I have ordered a new screen for my phone.)
Rain - but only briefly. We have not seen rain in my part of the world for so long it is now an agricultural crisis.
I’m in the midst of a prolonged identity … question. Not a crisis - goodness knows the world is delivering plenty of those for these past few years. Rather, a constant turning inwards to ask, “is this still true for me?” If yes, it stays. If no, it goes. Or something like that. I’m not sure when the crumbling began. The slow degradation of past passions, interests, ideas that motivated me. Psychologically I feel as though I am on a very long train ride across a landscape I do not recognise. Ageing, I suppose. Nothing stays the same, as they say.
Yet, photography has remained a constant passion. When I fell out of love with an arts practice centred on words, I fell deeply in love with images. But in the arts world (well, they call it the “creative industries” now which I find very sad on so many levels) one is “branded” for ease of recognising what kind of artist one is. To move from one “brand” to another is challenging. Yet, the passing years and a pandemic rendered me invisible in the realm of the theatre and performing arts world (writing). It is a tight little world. If one steps outside for a breath of fresh air, one is quickly let go of.
It is a relief, to be honest. To shake off that old self. That self was necessary, but formed by emotional struggles, and drinking featured as a more constant companion than any camera. It was like being trapped within, trying to navigate my way out. It was very “me” focused. The beauty for me, in photography, is that I don’t feature. I guide the eye perhaps, but I’m not the subject. I can offer something that allows the audience to find themselves. It’s almost like travelling, I find. Looking at photography.
I am not exagerrating when I say, “every droplet is precious” here. Where have you been oh beautiful rain?
It is however, nearly time to bring the words back. To invite narrative into my photography as I begin work on my first art book. Sparse words, I’ll grant you, but it is time to delve into the ways in which I am finding myself through these images, through this practice of observing and framing life as I pass through it.
