for the past three months I’ve been working on two rolls of film.
35mm. one 24. one 36. simple.
90 days with only 60 frames to show for it may not sound like much, but they were the most important shots of my life. I say this for a couple of reasons. 1. because the most recent photo i shoot is the culmination of everything I’ve learned until that point. it’s years of trial and error and tears on the studio floor and wandering in foreign countries and embarrassing myself in front of groups of people and finally understanding that all make up that one click of a button. 2. because they’re my last memories of this chapter of my life. i’m leaving my home of 21 years to follow my heart to san francisco. I decided to document these moments of home on film instead of digitally to remind myself how I started. film also forces me to slow down. something i haven’t let myself do in months. with only 60 chances and no option to delete, you tend to make them count.
so I used two different cameras and shot whatever i thought i’d miss seeing every day. from fitchburg to west springfield to northampton, i shot my secretly photogenic school, the light of my evening kitchen, and, of course, my perfect mother.
I planned to make a long, dramatic post of black and white images. I even had a few titles in mind.
so I took my last frame today (of the bottles and jars i’m making linda will to me because I love them so much) and ran to cvs. i’m never comfortable with the amount of trust i’m forced to put in those cashiers’ hands when I put the film on the counter and walk away. trust seems to work best when both parties understand the level of commitment required. needless to say, I was a lot more invested in those tiny little canisters than that 18 year old being paid minimum wage to destroy them.
this may sound intense, but as I write this from the parking lot in my car, I’m still bitter. two different cameras, two different types of film, I think it’s safe to say that i can throw an internal fit and blame everyone but myself. end rant.
I think something can be learned from all of this. when you believe that everything happens for a reason, you’d like to hope those reasons are positive.. some things aren’t permanent, and for the first time, I’m starting to see that that’s ok. that’s the beauty of change. film can (and will) be ruined, songs can lose certain meanings, relationships and friendships may be forced to fade, but the memories are real. nothing can take them away from me.
goodbye massachusetts, take care///