I bought a new camera recently. While writing has always been my creative outlet of choice, I have been flirting with photography for over two decades. Starting with a Nikon CoolPix in the early 2000s1 to a Canon Digital Rebel XT in high school2, I’ve spent a remarkable amount of time — especially pre-college — looking at the world through a viewfinder3.
I took a brief hiatus while on campus — the majority of photos I took there were on a camera phone and were not ones worthy of being printed, mounted, and framed — then started intentionally taking pictures again just after graduation, when Instagram first became popular. But when that started to feel more like posting for the world, not myself, I stopped. The itch has returned, though, recently. Perhaps because I spent too much time last fall sitting in a tree, staring at the sublime beauty of nature4 or perhaps because now, as a father, it’s obligatory to keep a camera strapped around my neck at all time — whatever the reason, I’m reengaging in the visual arts. It’s been fun relearning mostly forgotten skills: f-stops and apertures, shutter speed and focal lengths.
Viewing the world with a photographer’s eye changes your perspective. Much like since I started hunting I’ve become more attuned to the woods — where the game trails are, where there is deer sign, cover, food, bedding — when you start taking more photos, you notice different things. Low-angle light in the living room, brick meeting marble on a building’s facade, purple crocuses vibrant against bare grass. You don’t need to document these things with a picture every time, but by noticing them, you open up your senses — attune yourself more closely to the world. I think that that’s a good thing.
As I wrote last week, we had a reunion of sorts over the weekend with the collective Friends CWD5. It was lovely to reconnect over memories both old and new, reforging those enduring bonds which I wrote about last year. Abraham Lincoln commented that6, “the better part of one’s life consists of his friendships,” and to that, I have to agree. I’m honored to have such strong ones7.
True to my promise, we made paella over a live fire8. And, true to my new resolution to be a photographer, I did my best to both cook the meal and document the experience. I’m very fortunate to have friends who don’t bat an eye at helping chop wood, prep vegetables, and tend to a fickle flame — allowing me to spend some time behind the lens. And, despite a learning curve on heat management9, we ended up with a delightful meal — a true team effort10.
That being said, even with the help of several sous chefs, it’s beyond my ability as both a chef and photojournalist to simultaneously cook and properly take photos. So, instead of a comprehensive breakdown of the paella process, this week you’ll get the smathering of photos throughout this essay and the lingering good memories of a weekend well spent.
See you here next week for a return to our usual programming.
Thanks to Nana CWD’s AmEx points for that one.
And that’s to say nothing of the various “novelty” cameras along the way: the Polaroids, the Holgas, the Lomos, the fisheye film cameras, the disposables, the charmingly grainy flip phone cameras and the PalmPilots and Blackberries.
On a father-son hiking trip to French Alps in high school, I distinctly remember Grandfather CWD remarking, as I snapped away at nearly every ornamental bit of architecture in Geneva’s Old Town, that “back in the day” you only took photos of people — since film was expensive and you didn’t want exposures on such random things as 16th century masonry.
Or a few years later, at a Mountain Goats concert in Jacksonville, when John Darnielle stated plainly mid-set that it would probably be a better use of any concert-goer’s time to, instead of snapping photos, just enjoy the music.
But more accurately, at the squirrels who hopped around underneath my stand.
I’m happy to report that we picked up two new subscribers from that group coming out of the weekend — despite some verification issues on their end and the confusion caused by Old World deities.
To a friend, of course.
Interestingly enough, Lincoln wrote this describing how he was spited by another friend and passed over for a political appointment. He goes on to write that “losing the office so [his friend might gain it], [he] was always for; but to lose his friendship” that was the real blow. Hence the quote is not quite the affirmation of friendship it’s often made out to be.
Despite the disbelief of some who had gotten wind of the plan.
We shucked some oysters as well, of course — well both Canadian and “Mine.”
Not many things better than fresh shucked oysters, paella, and friends around an open flame! And I love that you’re getting back into photography- me too actually. I used to take so many street photos and especially while traveling. I let my iPhone replace these for awhile but I’ve brought out my big camera again for our trip we are going on. Also been experimenting with some good old disposable cameras again. -Madison
Remember I went to Pitchfork, too...so I'm definitely in for hot dogs!
What a fun get-together with beloved friends.
When I was young, one of my (many) favorite musical artists was Harry Chapin. He wrote a song called Let Time Go Lightly. I loved the song, but it did not strike chords until later in life. It starts off with "I let time go lightly when I'm here with you," and "Morning, a time for breaking ground and sowing seeds....That leaves the evening to share a fire with a friend or two," and then another verse is "Old friends, they mean much more to me than the new friends, cause they can see where you are, and they know where you've been."
This song reminds me of you in so many ways--the way you think and interpret and understand and appreciate and value. Let Time Go Lightly is such a great song (to Harry Chapin, his songs were his friends, too. He died tragically in 1981 in a car accident on the Long Island Expressway. He was such an amazing poet and storyteller.)
I do believe, however, that new friends also take over a special place in your heart, as they know you now, with no baggage, and that is a good thing, too. It is an opportunity to start fresh with something as meaningful as a friendship, and have that grow and evolve and then you become "old friends."
Well, on a lighter note--that Paella looks outstanding.
Love you forever.