Photo Note

Dear J-

I find myself looking around, these weekends lately, at other people’s cameras and wondering what they’re running with. By now it’s no secret that most of those black plastic lumps dangle off the end of Canon or Nikon straps and depending on where you go (Zoo, Sea World) there’s a gray barreled or red or gold-striped lens hanging off it too. Then I remind myself that it’s not the equipment, it’s in the vision, and not to wrench my arm out of its socket trying to pat myself on the back here but the exercise of taking around a camera with a prime lens has helped immensely — I’ve got a rough idea of what the picture should be before the camera comes to my eye, and the final act of pushing the release is just a formality at that point, confirming lighting and focus point.

I’m not sure if it’s been obvious but I’ve been trying to put up at least one picture — good bad or indifferent — per day so far this year. Call it a New Years resolution if you want, but it’s another try at bringing a camera everywhere which has helped me already. As far as going too far afield for photographic inspiration, it’s proving that there’s nothing not worth taking a picture. The world keeps opening up in unexpected inspiration lately.

Mike

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Proud Horror

Dear J-

After the morning errands are over we get to do a little exploring around San Diego; the first few months we spent bouncing back and forth from the familiar places but just lately I’ve been wanting to explore the pieces that show up green on the maps I love: the parks. First off, I love maps because they let me travel without leaving my chair; tracing the spaghetti of tangled roads and paths, or following the regular waffle grooves between downtown buildings, you get a chance to plot routes that have the best chance of being interesting. The real tragedy of the internet is the obsolescence of map reading skills, that’s what I think some days.

Another part of it is finding the way that figgy’s face lights up to see a new place; new enough to be exciting, familiar enough to be welcoming. Parks in San Diego have the same sort of playground equipment no matter how far out ot the way you go, but maybe in a slightly different configuration or layout. Today’s chosen park, Kearny Mesa Park (and Recreation Center) had your usual structure studded with ladders and slides, but it was divided into two distinct sections. One was inaccessible for little kids except those able to climb ladders or who could ride the zip line across from the small side, which featured the low slide and welcoming steps.

I did my best to keep her going on the big side, but she preferred the small one, sliding down that particular slide solo where she wouldn’t even consider it for the larger slides; she got up the ladder fine by herself but I kept hesitantly hovering over her waist, hooking a finger into a belt loop (really, all that would do would pull off her pants and smack her head into the unforgiving bars; I’m not sure what I was thinking). It’s funny how we vacillate between wishing for independence and hoping it isn’t today, or this week, or tomorrow even; the hard part is being simultaneously horrified and proud at the same time.

Mike