There are times when you’re just out of gas. Too much to do, too little time to do it, doubt about priorities and goals.
Remember the scene in “The Princess Bride” when Inigo Montoya has hit the end of the trail in searching for Princess Buttercup and Westley? He’s in the forest as he prays to his dead father for guidance, closes his eyes, raises his sword, and staggers around like he’s dousing for water.
My equivalents to the dead father are usually books, photography, and music. Tonight, perhaps because of all the news about SNOWPOCALYPSE 2015, I ended up here, long ago, far away, in the cold, just starting to learn how to develop my own black and white film, bulk load film cartridges to save money, and to look for something with a spark of quintessence as the subject of my photos.
The negatives have suffered from neglect over the years, but they still speak to me across forty-plus years.
I love old photos of towns and cities. It’s wonderful to peek into the past, but it’s also sad to see a world that no longer exists…
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I agree. So much of this is gone when I go back to visit – much of it was gone by the time I was out of high school.
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