Behind the Lens
The sun rays teased me as they leaked in through the window, casting a pattern of shadows over the room. My dog lay there, sleepy and content, as I slowly reached for my camera. My eye against the viewfinder, I adjusted the focus, simultaneously checking the manual light meter. Before he could realize what I was doing, I snapped the picture.
A few years ago, vintage cameras piqued my interest. I’ve never been a “photographer” but the sheer detail of cameras themselves draws me in. They’re bulky, but beautiful with all their intricate metal pieces. Like usual, I happened into a local thrift shop, perusing for treasures. I barely made it in a few steps, when a camera sitting on a prominent display shelf caught my eye. It was a Pentax K1000, but that meant nothing to me at the time. Its shape paired with its Native American-style strap instantly made it mine. I snatched it up as though all eyes were on it from everyone in the store, even though I was one of two people there, with the other person nowhere near me or my camera. I couldn’t believe I snagged such a find for only $12. I raced home and found the perfect shelf in our living room to proudly display it, and that’s where it sat for years. Until one day, I decided I wanted to take a stab at taking photos with my collection of vintage cameras showcased in every room. The one I bought from the thrift shop that day, is now my all-time favorite camera. It’s not tricky to use, and it produces the most beautiful, detailed photos I have ever taken myself. The true excitement of it all, comes from the fact of not being able to double check the photos. With my phone I can take a million to make sure I got the right angle or that I like the way I looked. With film, it’s one and done. I could take several, but I usually only take one photo of one subject, trusting in the moment that it was either glorious or a throw-away. Sure, I have several that turn out as flops, but overall, they develop better than I imagined. They have more texture, detail, and color than I originally recognized with my naked eye behind the lens.
Taking photos has given me a newfound agency to capture the beauty around me. It’s opened my eyes to the little details of life - the branches of a tree and how their leaves intertwine to make outward art or the rain on a dying dandelion, whose white wisps have now become defined extensions. When I’m behind the lens, the world slows down. I shift my focus from one object to the greater depth of field, testing the waters, while appreciating the world around me. My world is now a canvas, waiting for me to be drawn in by the perfectly unique angle, enticing me to notice how the sun dances across my driveway, begging me to interact with it; to slow down, and capture the inspiration I barely had to move to find. Before, the click of a shutter wouldn’t even phase me. Now, it releases dopamine trailing inspiration throughout the course of my body.