12.12.2020

Hanging out at the old Sweetish Hill Bakery on a Sunday Morning. Back when we had so few responsibilities or worries that it now seems like paradise.

B. has always been a reticent subject for portraiture. She thinks the process should be quick, painless and infrequent. It may have been misguided for her to marry a photographer. Especially one who is much more interested in making portraits than taking landscape images. 

We went to Sweetish Hill Bakery at least once a week for about 30 years. Coffee and pastries. Eventually the beloved owners and originators aged out of the business and sold it to a fashionable but mostly soulless restaurant group. They've turned what was once a neighborhood bakery into a frou-frou enterprise; Doubling the prices of the products and cutting the quality in half. Pre-pandemic it had become newly chic.

I can't recall ever going to the bakery without a camera over one shoulder or the other (usually the left...) and on this foray I'm sure it was a Leica CL. I used the 40mm lens and got a bit too close. I should have bought a 90mm for that camera but I always considered it to be a quintessential point-and-shoot camera. I  also didn't think the finder was very accommodating for use with longer lenses. 

At the time I probably overlooked this image because I didn't like the wide angle perspective and the way it worked to change the geometry of B's face. Now I find the image a wonderful artifact/treasure from an age where cameras were always full frame and nearly always just eccentric enough to enjoy. 

Tri-X all the way. And, no, that's not a digital frame edge, that's the effect of filing out your own personal negative carriers. Unique. 


 

Inside the Ellsworth Kelly Chapel at the Blanton Museum.

 

Documenting the stained glass "windows"

I like scrolling through old folders marked with cryptic words like: "Desktop Blog Art late 2018"

I find things like a batch of perfect photos done with the last GH5 or GH5S I owned. Makes me feel good that I still like the photos. Makes me feel silly and a bit dumb to realize how good this cameras were in the moment and how unwise it was to sell them off and then have to buy them again. 

Funny, if you wipe all the projects off your calendar then all of sudden you stop dreaming about how X piece of gear would be "just the ticket" for upcoming job Z. I've been shooting video with three and sometimes four cameras at the same time. Now I have zero video projects on the books or waiting in the wings. The extra cameras I bought end up cooling their heels. 

This time around I'm keeping them. If I don't feel compelled to use them I'll just pull the batteries out, wrap them in paper and shove them in a drawer. The next time I'm anxious to buy something new I'll reach in and unwrap one of them. Like getting a new camera all over again.