photography

Nostalgiapalooza

What is it about nostalgia that is so attractive?

While it’s a bittersweet emotion, nostalgia can be used to “counteract loneliness, boredom, and anxiety.” Think of that feeling you get when you flip through an old photo album, or listen to a favorite album. Nostalgia, while wistful, helps you think of good memories. It’s grounding, and gives you roots.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been on a nostalgiafest here lately. In the past year, I’ve made a point to relive things from my past that, at one point, I knew I loved. The feeling is especially strong with movies: I watched (and continue to watch) a ton of movies growing up. Now, I’m revisiting those late ’80s and early ’90s films that I watched over and over again (and haven’t watched since), primarily comedy classics like Major League, Funny Farm, and Naked Gun. For one, they’re funny, and those movies brighten my mood.

And two, I have great feelings associated with those 30-year old films. With the pandemic and all the anxiety surrounding it, it’s nice to dip into the past and relive something that’s fun and frivolous. 

It’s the same with classic books – Frog and Toad with the kids, say – and albums. I’m even browsing through my Lightroom catalog from years past and scrolling through my iPhone photo library to remember the times when I took a ton of pictures. Remember that? 

I think about that scene in Inside Out where the memory globes become bi-colored – both joyful and sad. Memories are rarely pure joy or pure sadness. Nostalgic feelings, especially, have twinges of melancholy with the feel-good moments. 

That’s how I feel: a little good, a little crummy. So I’m feeding that with nostalgia in all its forms. 

Right now, I need the familiar. 


Tennessee

 

Much like our vacation last summer, for spring break earlier this month, we went all natural and took a quick trip to the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.

Sticking mainly to the national park, we enjoyed the fresh spring air of the Appalachians. And what scenery: lovely mountain streams following us along the roadways, vistas not yet obscured by tree foliage, and the winter melt trickling down from the mountainsides, creating little waterfalls everywhere we went. 

After a mild winter, it was good to get outside and tire ourselves out.

I took along my handy little Canon EOS M with the EF-M 22mm f/2 – or as I call it, the Family Camera. It goes with us on every road trip. Over the years, it’s definitely earned its share of bumps and bruises, but it’s small and light, and the picture quality still can’t be beaten – almost 10 years later. 

The 35mm equivalent focal length is wide enough to get these lovely landscape shots, and I can bring it in closer for shots of the kids or super close-up shots of flowers or details. While the autofocus is lousy, I don’t need it to catch quick-moving subjects too often. It’s a clumsy, deliberate camera, and I still love it.

I’ll probably drop it down a cliff or forget it at some roadside diner on one of our family vacations someday. If it ever needs replacing, I’d be satisfied with a white M2 “upgrade.” 

For now, the M is in the “good enough” category. It captured those scenic Tennessee landscapes perfectly and came home to tell the tale.


Forty

It’s not so bad, turning 40.

Mostly, I still feel like I’m in my early to mid 30s. Thirty – now THAT birthday felt monumental: buying a new house, switching jobs. A lot changed that year.

This year? We’re still stuck in a pandemic. I’ve felt on hold for the last 12 months. Maybe I can just skip this birthday?

No, of course not. But mentally, I’m not 40. Perhaps it’s denial. Halfway through life, I feel like I’ve done a tremendous amount of things. Knowing me, I’ve got many more projects on the horizon.

Like my “Thirty Six” project. I just remembered I have that one still unfinished. Time to look through some film photos from four years ago…

 


Michigan On Ice

Sunshine, a great lake, and lots of fresh air – we needed it.

After Jaime and I took a trip to South Haven a few winters ago, we swore we had to come back. To see that heaved ice hanging onto the shoreline, to see that frost-encrusted lighthouse again. Maybe grab another beloved shot of strangers trudging through the cold.

The lakeshore is like another planet: a mix of sand and ice, and off in the distance an unfrozen lake. The ice in the pier heaved, like the lake was breathing – a living, swelling mass of ice.

I brought along my seldom-used Tamron 24-135mm zoom lens to give it some exercise. I’m usually a prime guy, but with scenery like this, I wanted to be prepared for whatever came up.

We dragged the kids along with the grandparents with us, too. The children were constantly on a precipice: one slip, and we’d lose them to what felt like the void. 

On the ride home, we could’ve all fallen asleep. We were tuckered out. All that cold and fresh air did us good. 


Show the Work

Show the Work

I love a good, old-fashioned photography blog. Flickr is great, Instagram is mostly trash, Twitter still has some good photography sharing – but a blog? That’s a place I can visit when I want that’s dedicated to the craft.

Take a simple photography blog like Just a Little Patience. Super simple design, minimal text – it’s a place where Johnny Patience shares a lovely picture and a location or a quote. Nothing else. Photos, one after the other. 

Because I’m a writer and a photographer, Patrick LaRoque’s blog appeals to me too: it goes deeper, with updates, thoughts, and (plenty of) opinions on the state of the world, the photography business, and his family. 

My heart goes to blogs like Just a Little Patience because I appreciate its minimalism. It lets the photos speak for themselves. But my head says I have to do the essay-for-every-photo format. My blog has landed somewhere in the middle, but either way, it’s the sharing part that’s important.

Show your work. Talk about it if you want, but above all, put it out there.