Your camera is an instrument of memory. Perhaps this is why you have purchased this camera rather than opting for a digital or instant model. You are the discerning type of photographer who prefers the traditional instrument, in which light enters through an aperture and creates an inverted image on the back wall of the housing, which is covered by unexposed negative film. That film can be removed and developed. Prints can be created. You will no doubt treasure them over the years. Do you know, though, that the images remain behind within the camera as memories? Every picture makes an indelible impression on the camera, and over time, the character of a camera is formed in response to what is seen: a camera can become ebullient if it sees mostly celebrations, victories, or moments of inspiration. It can become despondent if it seems mostly death and defeat. It can be cynical if it sees only celebrations without a sense of context or context. It can become arrogant or defensive or unwilling to remain within the guardrails of reality. All are personalities, and thus all are possibilities. What is your camera’s disposition? Here we encounter an insurmountable and intractable problem, which is that cameras cannot speak, gesture, or communicate in any other manner. Their recollections are imprisoned within them, and they are prisoners of those recollections. As you do not have the ability to free your device from this state, you need not to worry about it. Pity is not welcome and even concern will be wasted. Enjoy your new film camera. Happy snapping!
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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