The Gift that Kept on Giving
I was not a creative child. I was good at coloring inside the lines, but that was about the best you could say of me. My sister got the artistic talent in the family, but I couldn't draw a straight line with a ruler. (Still can't!)
I no longer remember which of my school friends introduced me to photography—but I can remember begging my family for a "real" camera for my 15th birthday. My grandparents, God bless them, came through and bought me a camera "bundle" that also included wide-angle and telephoto lenses. Here is a photo of my beloved present, a Yashica FX-2.
Photo by Roberto Miglioli.* Used
with permission.
That camera went all over the country with me. It even went to Europe with me twice--although I had to replace the original after I dropped it on the floor of the Sistine Chapel. (Lessons learned: Cameras are much more expensive in Italy, and always, always, ALWAYS put the strap around your neck when you are changing lenses!)
That camera opened the world to me. It wasn't fancy, and it had no brand-name recognition like a Nikon, Minolta, or a Pentax. It was completely manual except for a built-in light meter. I had to learn about f-stops and shutter speeds, without the benefit (or curse, depending on your POV) of auto-focus. Thank God that was when I was young and my eyes still worked!
I eventually went on to learn how to develop my own black-and-white photos. My mom was probably less than happy about the mess the chemicals made in my improvised "darkroom" (i.e., the bathroom), but, all things considered, she was pretty good humored about the whole thing.
This is not the one I had, but it's the same model. Sadly, I never learned to do color developing. It was very complicated back then, and there were only so many hours in my day.
I developed enough skills to do some freelance photography when I was in high school and college. But somewhere along the way, I stopped taking photographs. I guess adult life got in the way, and I forgot what a joy it is to learn to "see" the world in the different way that you do through the lens of a camera.
Some people find that taking photos distances them from the moment, but that has never been true for me. I live with attention deficit disorder, which means that it can be difficult for me to be present in the moment or to pay attention to the beauty around me. I have found that the camera pulls me into the world in a way nothing else does. Peering through the viewfinder anchors me firmly in whatever is happening in that instant--and I have rediscovered that the joy I get from really SEEING the world is tremendous.
I'm privileged to share what I see with you.
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*Thanks again to Roberto Miglioli for permission to use the photo of the camera. Check out his beautiful camera blog at SaoPauloCameraStyle.