Every year I go to the North Carolina State Fair, and every year it is exactly the same as the year before. Same disgusting fried foods (bacon-wrapped deep fried peanut butter cups), same rides (screaming, whirling, etc.) and the same rhubarb pie/strawberry jam/zucchini whatever. It’s probably not the exact same jar of jam but you get the idea.
One thing that is always the same which I actually like is the forest service’s exhibit of an old fire-fighting airplane. Just can’t get enough of that engine. Always something new to do with a photo.
Even the dingiest of natural effluvia, a mud puddle, can offer up a startling beauty, if we take the time to look. This was the quickest of snapshots, I was running to catch up with my husband’s retreating back but I can’t walk past reflections like this. When I got home I saw that I had captured something special.
I’ve just finished Patti Smith’s latest dream-like memoir, M Train. As always, her writing transports me, and I am particularly captivated by her Polaroid photos, I find them very affecting. Years ago I read a reviewer on Amazon criticize her photos because they were “blurry” and “black and white”. To that I would add “grainy” and of course words like “evocative” and “laden with meaning”.
This photo of course is one of my own, and taken with an iPhone, not an old Land camera, but as I mused my way through the murk of the historic Old Chapel Hill Cemetary, I was struck by how such casually ignored places as a burial site in the middle of a campus can transmit so much emotion. And that such places, when observed, can teach us something artistically.