I wish I knew what it was. Maybe it's the resurgence and exploration of Polaroid, in celebration of its extinction as we knew it in childhood, all these photographs cropping up in Flickr with the tell tale white border. Maybe it's the label "Film" on photographs in the same pools, the ethereal feel you get from these grainier images, the way you want to blow the dust away from the memory, let it rise up to the surface.
Part of me wants to go out with my Nikon and document the world this way, give it its own wispy hue, but part of me also wants to resurrect the treasures from years past. Above, all pictures hovering around 2003: apple picking and sheep petting at a Rochester farm, canoing and kayaking at my grandparents' lake, with my father, with my best friend. It seems strange to think of waiting to see how it all comes out, uncertain of how well the shot was framed, was focused, wondering if you should have taken five more, from other angles. If I put my Nikon to my eye, would I waste it, would I turn through a dozen images at a time, run up my credit card bill in one hour photo processing?
In my distraction, my full throttle love, I picked up a stack of Polaroid instant film. Never mind that I don't actually own a 600 camera, but I figured I could get my tentacles on one, could begin to document my life in that magical way. My sister has assured me she'd mail one up to me, and you will soon see images such as these in my Flickr photostream.
For now, I've begun to sift through old photos, sporadically sharing them. You can visit my past on film here.
15 hours ago