As a young photographer working for magazines I had a strange bond with my camera. I remember that on one or more occasions I used the black coated cupper body of my Minolta XM to nail pieces of carton to my studio wall, just because there was no hammer within reach. I also developed a strange habit of leaving my camera cases in a cab after returning from a successful shoot, causing a psychologist friend to suggest that I subconsciously wanted to stop doing photography.
I seriously considered her suggestion and started reflecting on what the camera as an instrument meant to me. Suddenly I found it odd that I used to scratch the bottom of my camera body to mark a successful picture, much like soldiers in WW I used to do with their rifles. Was I looking at my cameras as weapons?
Fact is that I often pointed my cameras at the ugliness of life. I was a very angry young man slowly awaking from a somewhat nightmarish childhood.
Later I fell in love with that same ugliness. In the words of my ex - a professional art critic and a pushy know-it-all at times - “You are always drawn towards the dark side of life!” She is right, but I honestly cannot see the visual attraction of the bright side of life. To me the dark represents a world where a single light can shine even brighter.
Over the years I slowly lost most of my anger/anxiety and lately I find myself taking care of my cameras as though they are made of porcelain. Since I started the new modest photo studio a few months ago I have learned that my recent works are an almost linear continuation of the Bordello series I started 8 years ago in the old studio; realistic, mostly unglamorous portrayals of people partially or completely undressed. This is a clumsy description, I can see that, so maybe you want to check my page at artreview.com where I have posted some of the old with some of the new works.
Considering the fact that my work really did not change that much, it also made me rethink my bond with cameras. I have baptized my favorite camera, a Nikon mount Fuji with the name “Prima Donna”, because this camera is superior to any camera I had before, but it also seems to have a mind of its own. I like that in cameras. The Minolta XM I mentioned earlier on had that same quality. Sometimes the electronics would actually work, but always in an unpredictable fashion. Not relying too much on equipment helps to stay concentrated.
Of course the Minolta was loaded with film and my Prima Donna needs 4Gb memory cards files and there lies the real clue I think. The Fuji is certainly not the best digital SLR currently on the market, yet the photographs are so immensely detailed, even with large scale printing, that it is almost scary.
So comparing my oldest and my newest camera I must conclude that – apart from my lowering testosterone levels through aging – my old cameras were more frustrating to work with. With the early cameras I would see more through the view finder than the camera could actually produce and with the latest camera it is just the other way around. Prima Donna had me doubt my eyesight more than once, but that is good. I like detail. It is easier to get rid of detail after production than to create it when it simply is not there.
As for hammering a nail in even the softest wall; the new camera would certainly fall apart while absorbing the first hit, but I can live with that.
Keywords: camera, cameras, Photographer