22 JAN 06
At some point after I'd stopped taking photos with the 35mm, my grandmother acquired a polaroid camera. (The house with the black bathroom had been sold, and I never made another darkroom, though I carted my cheap enlarger from place to place for years).
I thought of Gran's camera last night when Max & I looked at the beginning of Alice in the Cities. It's a film I've seen many times, and one I need to see every so often. It provides a kind of rest that boils down to a feeling of belonging.
What I liked most about polaroids was watching the image slowly collect, similar to the way an image comes up in the developing pan in the darkroom.
In the movie, the character Phillip Winter is supposed to be writing an article about "the American scene" but mainly he's been driving from one state to the next, shooting polaroids. He isn't a photographer and he's missed his deadline. He's making notes in a notebook, but he has no story. He just has the pictures.
"about things you can see... The reason why I shot so many pictures is part of my story."
. . . . . .
