Outta My Way
While practicing my rope spinning this morning - more on that another time - I occasionally glanced up at the sky. Not too often, mind you.
Got to keep my nose down, and get some work done - can't be wandering off to look at every pretty little bug that wanders through the yard.
I continued to throw my rope, even once or twice in the hour getting it to spin in the requisite circular manner. But the lure of the sky was ultimately stronger. Once an hour of my practice was up, it was time to go find a camera and capture some photons. The natural inclination these days is to start with the Linhof 4 x5. Set up the tripod, and once again I realized that the head would not permit the camera to tilt far enough back to see what I was looking at. Maybe the other head would allow the movement desired. Went and got that, put it on the tripod. But it requires a quick release plate. Went and got that out of a different bag. Hmmm... doesn't fit in the 3/8" threaded socket in the bottom of the Linhof. Perhaps it's time to consider another camera. Roll film has become an annoyance, which leaves me with the digicam. Set that on the tripod, since it was already in place, and this is what I've gotten. Perfectly usable for these practically decorative purposes.
But the point of this is that it is supremely annoying when equipment gets in the way of what you see. I want to be unimpeded in my work, my chosen activity of whatever it might happen to be at the moment. I'm always rummaging around for the correct tool. By now I've got enough of them that I can pretty much make do with some combination of what's on hand. But it still feels like I've been pushed in a way that wasn't what I originally wanted. In this case, going from a 4 x 5 to a P&S digicam felt initially like rather a compromise. Once the two or three exposures were made, the convenience of the tool became paramount. Nonetheless, I am still left with a concern about how the limitations of certain tools get in the way of creating.
Upon generalizing, it's pretty obvious that all material goods get in the way at one time or another. The overcoat that I wear during a winter nor'easter doesn't do me much good as a bathing garment when I'm swimming in the lake. The boots I wear in the snow don't work too well for walking around inside all day long. I want one piece of clothing to work for all weather extremes. And so I want one camera to work in every imaging situation. Obviously this is not going to happen – at least not with a view camera. Or maybe it could, after several more decades of practice. But do I want to spend that much time mastering a technology that in all likelihood is mastering me?
The other realization during this session was that I'm still after all these years attracted to 3D images when looking at the world. Years ago I could use a tool to capture that sort of attraction. Now that I'm using monocular vision devices, there are many scenes that don't work at all seen with one eye and viewed on a flat piece of film and flat screen monitor, and printed on a flat piece of paper. Which could be partially an explanation why I'm more comfortable with a still camera when I can approach a subject straight on. Many of my compositions are almost wall like. It's an illusion to try to get depth into a flat medium. Should the attempt even be made, or it is another fundamental Lie that photography makes about the world?
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