Lens glass and feathers
I met a man in Pioneer Square. I was crouching there trying to photograph a small group of crows and having a hard time of it. Even as city crows go, these were ultra attentive and wary of humans being too close or studying them too hard. All of my attempts to capture them on film failed. The man noticed I was trying to photograph the crows, and he says "Hey, I want to show you something that might help." He pulls a digital camera out of his backpack, and shows me some photos of crows he's taken. They're amazing. Clear, expressive photos of crows both candidly showing personality, as well as a few unbelieveable shots that can only be called 'crow portraiture', where it appeared the crow was actually posing for him and letting him take the photo. I was totally overwhelmed. I asked him how he was able to do that. He said "here, let me show you."
He walked near the group of crows. I expected them to hop away or take flight. He had a certain style of comfort and movement among them that seemed to let him get nearer than I'd expected. He then stepped among them. I was totally impressed. He squatted down and began to hold the digital camera down to their level. He brought the lens to one crow's attention, and flashed it back and forth a bit - reflecting light, and the crow's reflection in the lens. The crow obediently hopped to the lens closely, in understanding as much as curiosity. My jaw dropped. I couldn't fathom how easily he had done this. He then patiently snapped shots away, very close and seemingly with the crow's cooperation. He got up, smiled, and came back and showed me his photos. I thougth all of this time I'd been doing it wrong. I wondered what gift he had to be able to just do that, and how I never could.
I pulled a camera out of my bag. It felt wrong. I couldn't figure out why at the time. But it was all I had. I followed his lead and stepped to, and then among the crows. They let me. I crouched down and used his trick. The quick motion of the lens to attract attention. It was like a trained reflex. They began to hover near the lens. I was still somewhat overwhelmed by the sudden ease of this - why now? and how? I found a crow that was responsive and started to photograph him. But something felt wrong about the camera. It was like I had a creeping sense of failure that the motions felt right, but something wasn't working right.
I stepped out of the crows, and walked back to the man who smiled at my ease of accomplishment, like saying "see? it's that easy! You can do this any time, now!" and I began to show him the photos I got. It was then that I realized what was wrong with the camera. It was a 1970's Kodak instant camera - the kind that spits a single print out at a time and develops within a few mintes, and it wasn't loaded. All of those photos didn't exist. And neither did this event.
I woke up and stared at the ceiling for a while. Angry. Confused. Sad. Cheated. I wanted to go back to sleep and find that dream again. But it was gone.
He walked near the group of crows. I expected them to hop away or take flight. He had a certain style of comfort and movement among them that seemed to let him get nearer than I'd expected. He then stepped among them. I was totally impressed. He squatted down and began to hold the digital camera down to their level. He brought the lens to one crow's attention, and flashed it back and forth a bit - reflecting light, and the crow's reflection in the lens. The crow obediently hopped to the lens closely, in understanding as much as curiosity. My jaw dropped. I couldn't fathom how easily he had done this. He then patiently snapped shots away, very close and seemingly with the crow's cooperation. He got up, smiled, and came back and showed me his photos. I thougth all of this time I'd been doing it wrong. I wondered what gift he had to be able to just do that, and how I never could.
I pulled a camera out of my bag. It felt wrong. I couldn't figure out why at the time. But it was all I had. I followed his lead and stepped to, and then among the crows. They let me. I crouched down and used his trick. The quick motion of the lens to attract attention. It was like a trained reflex. They began to hover near the lens. I was still somewhat overwhelmed by the sudden ease of this - why now? and how? I found a crow that was responsive and started to photograph him. But something felt wrong about the camera. It was like I had a creeping sense of failure that the motions felt right, but something wasn't working right.
I stepped out of the crows, and walked back to the man who smiled at my ease of accomplishment, like saying "see? it's that easy! You can do this any time, now!" and I began to show him the photos I got. It was then that I realized what was wrong with the camera. It was a 1970's Kodak instant camera - the kind that spits a single print out at a time and develops within a few mintes, and it wasn't loaded. All of those photos didn't exist. And neither did this event.
I woke up and stared at the ceiling for a while. Angry. Confused. Sad. Cheated. I wanted to go back to sleep and find that dream again. But it was gone.