Moving back home for the summer from college means going through my old stuff. During one of these, uh, adventures (they really are adventures- sometimes I find man-eating spiders that breathe fire and capture kingdoms,) I found some old photos. Glancing through, they all seemed like standard high school shots of my old friends and I doing high school things. Like painting t-shirts with puffy paint and going to Meijer (the supermarket of Michigan,) at 3AM for cooking dough. Now that I think about it…
I still do those things.
I found some pictures from my freshman year of college, when I was unwittingly on a photography hiatus. They were photos taken on my Holga TIM and my Lomo Oktomat (before it decided to crap out on me and waste two rolls of amazing film) of adventures I had with my boyfriend. They’re nothing too spectacular, but I noticed a couple had their merits. And the light leaks are pretty near. One photo in particular made me smile from ear to ear, and I’ll tell you why.
One spring afternoon, when the semester was ending, my boyfriend and I went on a stroll around campus, because I wanted to take pictures. This picture is special, because it creates a narrative about our first date. It was five months previous to our walk, on a cold November evening. He was taking me to the opera at the campus auditorium, and as we walked across the crosswalk, hands clasped together, he asked, “So, is this a date?” I think I said “Sure.”
We’re an eloquent pair.
But yeah, I thought that was pretty neat. It’s nice how photography can help you relive memories. They say that smell is the strongest sense for bringing about memory, but I think that sight is up there, too. If sight didn’t help us recall memories, there wouldn’t be a need for photography. It’s human nature to not want to forget; when photography was first invented, people would document their deceased loved ones before they were buried, so they wouldn’t forget their faces. And, bonus fact, before the invention of photography, people would shine a light by the deceased person so their shadow would be cast on a nearby wall. The living relative/loved one would then trace their silhouette on the wall. So they wouldn’t forget. It’s pretty morbid, but sweet at the same time.
So enough of the sappy post I’ve got going on here… Hold on to your photos, you’ll never know when you’ll look back on them and think “Hey! That was a great [insert memory here]!”