October 19, 2010

When clever people have too much time on their hands

Mia Lipman fails to understand why nobody has invented a dance called the Chana Masala.
10 hours ago

Joe Ona, Ben Wurgaft, and Żanna Spacetraveler like this.

Brian Bussiere because it can only be done to the naan bread beat.
10 hours ago

Brian Bussiere ‎*which has also yet to be laid down...
10 hours ago

Mia Lipman Best get right on that, Red. Earn yourself a raita ovation.
9 hours ago

Brian Bussiere my inspiration usually comes in the form of spitting lyrical fire. I shall leave the beats to those better fit...
9 hours ago

Ben Wurgaft you've clearly got the raita stuff, Mia.
6 hours ago

Mia Lipman Thanks, Ben - keep baingan that drum.
5 hours ago

Brian Bussiere you'd better curry!
5 hours ago

Ben Wurgaft Ah, I always curry favor with baingan BARTha.
4 hours ago

Brian Bussiere tikka-tock, time is a-wasting!
4 hours ago

Mia Lipman Ghee whiz, you two atta take this show on the road.
4 hours ago

Joe Ona Is it similar to the Gulab Jammin?
4 hours ago

Mary Burnham ahaha, love it!!! I'm gonna do the Chana Masala next time we meet, watch out!
about an hour ago

Catherine Giayvia Alu people better tikka number, naan of you seem to get it. But that's neither paneer nor there. You roti to the left, then you roti to the right and then you shake your jalfrezie like a korma chameleon. Now, lassi you try it. Go, mango.
about an hour ago

Mia Lipman Miss Mobtown for the win!
about an hour ago

Catherine Giayvia ‎*bows*
26 minutes ago

October 17, 2010

Digitized

The summer after my sophomore year, I spent almost every weekday afternoon in my high school photo lab. The photography teacher, Mr. Couch—this was prep school, so we called him Couchie—was a genial, absent-minded fellow with a kind smile and a wandering pair of glasses.

The semester before, I'd taken my first class with Couchie. He taught us the basics of framing and shooting, then each step of the development process: rolling back the film, measuring out the chemicals, and my favorite part—the heart-pounding few minutes in the dark when you load the film onto the spool, feeling around for the right angle, trying not to touch the delicate face of each square and ruin the roll.

I learned to take pictures on my mom's old Pentax, a satisfyingly heavy silver and black box with a manual winder. When I graduated from college, she got me the slightly updated version of the same camera, a Pentax ZX-M. It worked faithfully from day one; the most I ever had to do was replace the batteries, the filter, and (countless times) the lens cap.

The Pentax never stopped its tireless march from country to country, state to state, recording my life in piles of matching Walgreens albums with faux-gold lettering. But I did—reluctantly, nostalgically—send it into early retirement when I finally entered the digital age this past summer.


My new travel buddy is a Canon Rebel XTi. The endless menus and settings are mystifying, and I know it can do a thousand tricks I don't think to ask of it.
Nothing is left to chance anymore, and that's a loss, but I've been pleasantly surprised to find it hasn't changed my eye or the excitement of capturing time and space in a frame.

And when I miss the adrenalin rush of slipping open the envelope at the camera shop to see what turned out and what didn't, I can always pull the Pentax off its pedestal and take it on a field trip. I just hope I don't forget how to load the film.