more pictures, and blathering
Sep. 14th, 2004 12:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I made a page comparing all the cameras I've ever seriously used.
One film, three digital. Four digital.
That's here:
http://www.bridget.kelly.name/Pictures/cameracomparison/
And it was delightful to make the pages for that. I love my old photos, and my new ones too. It's like... I think for me, playing with and looking at my photos has sort of always been like it would be for the average miser to take a big old pile of money and throw it on the ground and roll around in it naked.
I just feel like I'm surrounded by friends, beautiful old friends, beautiful little miniature stories, when I look at my old photos. I tell you, part of my nostalgia in that ridiculous rambling post the other night (about William Blake and running away to Europe) was inspired by going through my old pictures from the Fujica ST-705. I mean...
I just love light. I love light. And the quality of the light in the arches of the Alhambra still gives me little thrills. And this picture, with its moody and indirect light (it was taken obliquely into a mirror, lit by only a desk lamp, and I can remember how I coveted that tin cup of Gail's, and that the comforter on my bed was scratchy) makes me miss people and the place I was, even though I hated it there.
Sigh. Nothing makes me happier than looking at and making pictures. I need pretty things to take pictures of.
This weekend I'll go visit my parents. There are 50 beautiful acres there, people I love, and of course a cute puppy. I'll get pictures then and that ought to make me a great deal happier.
(Aside. Cruel irony: When I am elsewhere, I am homesick for Melrose, but I am no longer at home there. To all of you who no longer live in your childhood home: Does that ever stop happening?
I'm dubious. Just before my grandmother's interment we stopped by Dad's childhood home in Bayside, Queens, with the urn in the backseat, and we got out of the car and stood outside looking at the old house. Dad moved out of that house when he went to Vietnam in 1969. Grandma sold that house in the mid 1970s.)
