|
|
||
|
Pinhole Cliche
I admit I do get professional and "proama" ladies at my workshops too. They do know how to use their tripods and are anxious to learn how to use their light meters for pinhole exposure calculations. But somehow their feminine touch makes better pictures than your average guy does. At least it seems so. Yet there are the intuitive guys in touch with their creative sides that come through too. One graphic designer taped his cardboard box camera way up a light pole. With it pointing straight down he could get a dynamic self-portrait of him and his girlfriend without the problem of a bright sky on a paper negative. Why didn't I think of that? A college professor (the only guy in my last workshop) pointed his box at the outdoor sink drainpipe to catch a mini waterfall and slowly rolled a child's ball across the floor in front of his pinhole for another shot. By contrast a teenage girl slowly whirled an umbrella for effect, a female senior citizen used the top of her head to balance her pinhole camera to get those tall buildings to dance a bit.
Regardless of who uses pinhole cameras, man, woman, or child, we all start with a dark chamber (the womb) within which something grows. Slowly the image makes itself known on the light sensitive material and with the right exposure grows towards fullness. Like farmers, we cast the seed of our vision into the dark soil of the mother earth and wait for something to grow. The receptive box waits for the sun to penetrate it and awaken its dormant light. We open the pinhole door and let the feminine work her mystique. I see the receptive heart as something that grows as it is filled with light. The world I see and feel is reflected into the camera by the mirror of my mind. A lot of good results come from simply being in the right place at the right time. How did I manage to be here at this moment? Is it luck or is it part of some inner "practice" or attunement? I spent a lot of time on my last photo trip to Poland and Hungary walking and looking for the light. Often I ended up somewhere unexpected. Though I had a course planned, the light often led me in another direction. Some of my favorite images came at the end of a long day of wandering (or was it wondering), looking, and trying to keep the mind open. The pinhole camera, my receptive vessel was filled with memories new and old. Receiving the image is so much more fun than forcing it to come.
previous page 2/2 |
