Posts Tagged ‘ prints ’

the photo-stalker stalks again.

Listening to: Laura Marling — New Romantic

Long time no see, eh? It’s been busy busy busy up in here, now that the school year is coming to a close. There was AP Week (submitting my portfolio = a hassle) and track meets and dance (not to mention registering for my summer modern and ballet and drawing courses). The spring play starts tonight, and the dance show opens tomorrow next week.

But, of course, I wouldn’t return to you without photos. Of which I have many, from the aforementioned track meets and warm spring nights. So, voilà: here is a selection of the two LC-A+ rolls I just received from the camera store.

how can I catch up when I don’t want to?

Listening to: The XX — Night Time

Well well well. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? The past week’s been so busy that I’m not quite sure what to write about here. I could write about anxiety attacks and stupid people and how I keep getting other people’s underwear returned with my drycleaning. Or, I could write about how my dad came down to visit me this weekend and brought me very small notebooks and chocolate pastilles and Doublemint gum, or how I and a handful of the AP art students had an exhibit on Thursday. I could even tell you about how I’ve lost all feeling in my toes because I stood in the freezing rain for three hours, timing a track meet.

But I don’t really feel like talking about any of that in detail. Instead, I would like you to know that I found a lost roll of film in my drawer and got it developed yesterday. So, please attempt to enjoy a super-grainy section of my roll of forgotten film.

landings & returnings.

Listening to: Suzanne Vega — World Before Colombus

Break is over, too soon. Now I am unpacked and sitting alone in my dorm room, drowsy on Dramamine because when planes land I break into a nervous sweat. Tomorrow is class and then more class for two more months, and it’s only just starting to sink into my head that I’m back at school, I’m back at school and I have to work and learn and wake up before midday Finally, after what felt like an eternity of carpal tunnel syndrome, I’ve finished typing the sequel to my novel (which I have yet to tell you where I’ve posted it), but before I did that, Blé and I took a screech appreciation moment to enjoy the early-spring weather that somehow feels like fall.

develop, stop, fix, and repeat.

Listening to: Metro Station — Control

So today during lunch I went to the camera store and picked up my prints, my first ever from a) a Fujifilm roll and b) a 36-exposure roll, as opposed to my standard Kodak 24-ex. It was taken with my Diana+ lens and the film was ISO-freaking-100 (film-wise, I am a speed freak — 800+ is what I aim for, but sometimes I’ll settle for 400) so I was kind of amazed that I recognized half of what I’d shot. Anywho: Stuff.

This week is Spirit Week. Yesterday was Mismatch Day, the horrors of which I will not begin to describe. Today was twin day — I wore (and am still wearing), gray Converses, straight-leg jeans, my Threadless “Pick Your Powers” t-shirt, and a black hoodie which is not mine and too big and smells faintly of cigarette smoke, although it is very comfy. When I fell asleep in class today, after the lecture, my teacher got me a teddy bear to use as a pillow.

And as a parting note, something beautiful:

everything is C-41 processed.

Listening to: Peter Bjorn & John — Objects of My Affection

Soooooo. Back home for the holidays. Yay? Lots of driving. I finally got the CDs that I put on hold at the local library (I had to dash in 0.25 seconds before closing), which means I had to choose four CDs to exclude from my next iPod syncing. I received the terrible news that CARINE ROITFELD IS RESIGNING AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DREAMS and the lady at the CVS ruined my black and white roll of film, so now its sad corpse hangs from my bulletin board. But I still have two rolls of color film, one from my LC-A+ and one from my FM-10, to share with you, so all is not lost.

 

some things are just too delicious for… ah, is that a crêpe?

Listening to: Ladytron — Versus

Sometimes it really rocks being the only one in my photography class. For example: Today, instead of having class, my teacher and I took a trip into town so that I could take my color film to the awkwardly-houred camera store. I’d been taking a roll a day over the weekend (trying to document my life in Lomo), so the three rolls plus a CD (which will be ready tomorrow! yay!) ended up costing me around forty dollars. That left me with nine dollars, which I was supposed to use to pay back a friend, with which to buy lunch.

On the way to my coffeeshop of choice, I stopped by the candy store with the sole purpose of wasting money on another button for my CBOQO (Communist Bag of Questionable Origin, in case any of you don’t remember). This is the one I got:

We’d met barely five minutes prior, but the salesguy laughed when he saw it and said, “That seems just like you!” Which was strangely not-strange — I suppose I’m just that good at conveying a lot about myself in a very short period of time.

At the coffeeshop I realized that I’d wasted a bit too much money, so I had to cancel my order of coffee halfway through. But the people there were really nice, so I got a small mocha on the house. By way of food, I ordered what they call the “Chocolate Chimp Crêpe”, which is Nutella and bananas and 105% delicious. It was so good that I devoted a whole post to it.

I was halfway through eating it (it was very messy, since it was all melty and Nutella-y and the pieces of chocolate and hazelnut-covered banana kept falling out) when it dawned on me that, hey, I should totes record it on fake film! So there you have it, dear readers: The Most Delicious Crêpe to be Bought In The Middle of Nowhere and Consumed by Anwa.

my lomo needs some love, but there is no love for russian film in this land.

Listening to: Camera Obscura — Away With Murder

 

My poor beloved LC-A+ has been sitting on my bookshelf for more than a month now, untouched; I haven’t had the heart to put it in my CameraBox. (It says something about the size of my feet that I can fit four cameras, two of them SLRs, into one of my shoeboxes). That entire time, a roll of what I assume will be quite lovely film from the last days of summer has been rotting inside of it. Why is this so, you ask? It is because the place I’m currently trapped in the town where my school is located is so small that there is not even a one-hour photo at the drugstore, and the camera store has the most awkward hours conceivable and, until recently, has thus been barred from my access. That is, until now — like last year, I’ve now found someone willing to take my rolls of color film (we have a black-and-white darkroom here) out to the camera  store to be developed, and hopefully I will have my prints back by the end of the week. So, in celebration of this glorious happening, and also because I feel like it, please enjoy a little bit o’ Lomo love from around the interwebs:

 

on the pointlessness of scanning negatives.

Listening to: Mates of State — The Re-arranger


This morning I was fixing up iTunes, and I thought to myself, “I have a scanner; why don’t I try scanning some of my favorite black&white prints from class?” I mean, that’s a fantastic idea, right? Wrong. This is why.

I don’t possess any of my favorite prints. I have only countless test prints, because my photography teacher took all of the good finals and refused to give them back because he’d like “to put them on display”. Now, I would have accepted this if 1) he hadn’t said this on the last day of classes, and 2) our teacher wasn’t notorious amongst his students for taking their favorite prints and never giving them back. Seriously — I have friends who took (and, subsequently, dropped) photography as a class three years ago, and they still haven’t gotten their work back. So it looks like I’m stuck with countless fix-stained screwups and little to show for the hours I spent slaving in the darkroom with people I hate.

Le sigh.

a contact sheet of photographs whose prints you will never see.

technolojoy.

Listening to: Snow Patrol — Chasing Cars

The picture uploader and Mozilla Firefox are conspiring against me again. On the bright side:

1) the Fourth of July was fun — it’s Americans’ excuse to blow stuff on the home front. We had a fireworks-showdown with the neighbors. Honestly, if there had been an airstrike last night, nobody would have known.

2) I got my photo printer fixed! I also got a 500GB portable hard drive, so I no longer having to worry about my computer crashing and deleting all of my photos/music/Sims. Yay!

3) I bought Crystal Renn’s memoir, Hungry. Hopefully it’ll make me feel a bit better about myself. Also, I found out that my local Midwestern Borders carries French Vogue. Gasp! Yay again!

Okay, that’s all I have to say for now. I have prints to make and CDs to burn.

of amazing photography.

Listening to: Tegan and Sara — Arrow


I wandered into my basement today and found an unopened box containing a Dell photo printer/ scanner, three ink cartridges, and a packet of high-gloss 8″xll” photo paper. Needless to say, my day was made. I can see my wallet emptying as I make print after print….

Anyway. Since I created my Carbonmade portfolio, I’ve been stalking the site to find new and inspirational photographers. My two photographic idols are Avedon and Leibovitz, but I decided that I need to broaden my horizons a lot-a-bit. Of course, I’ve found some pretty inspirational people, who I will proceed to list. Unfortunately, I can’t link to any of the images, because Carbonmade’s amazing about not letting people steal your art like that. Anyway:

1. Harmony Nicholas

2. Angelica Ström

3. Josefine Jönsson

I would write a long ramble about why I’m now in love with each of their work, but I lack the eloquence needed to describe great art. Sorry. But you should go browse their galleries and see what I mean.

Another awesome thing: trips to big cities. I’m heading to Chicago tomorrow and Atlanta next week, so there will be much new and varied photography. I just hope that my camera doesn’t get stolen.



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