Some weeks ago, a couple very nice folks reached out to me from the alps of Slovania, said they have made a sublime pinhole camera with incredible wood and magnets and wanted to know if I’d like to try a prototype. I was already sending them my mailing address before they got to the magnets part. The last time I’d made an image with a pinhole camera, I think Gerald Ford was president. But it was a different time. Back then, I could not get my hands on new equipment fast enough and the promise of professional grade imagery seeped into my young blood and I tossed the shoebox aside to make way for a complex 35mm and the promise of a fast-paced photographer’s life.
Forward with pace, would be a good description of my life. I’ve done a lot, seen a lot and fueled my forward movement with a kind of constant abandonment of past and present. In some ways, this is intrinsic to the role of photographer, who does a shoot, delivers files and moves on to the next. But in other ways, this is how we all live. Constantly moving forward, with pace.
One thing about that kind of ever-forward position in life is that you cannot relax. Running, after all, is the same as falling — you just outpace the crash. Most people I know talk about this similarly. It’s not that you can’t relax, you seem to be more…
