Technique, method, equipment
Ever since I got “serious” about my photographs, I’ve been a bit self-conscious about my equipment and, yes, I said it, my technique as well. I bought my first camera, a cheap point-and-shoot Canon PowerShot A75, for a single purpose, to take photos of Chicago’s Millennium Park, which had just opened in the summer of 2004. I’ve been conscious that there are far better cameras in the world. Yeah, I know, it’s not the camera, it's the photographer. But still, Bruce Jackson, an old professor of mine who’s had his photos shown in serious places, did see fit to host some of the photos I took that first summer: Xanadu on the Lake (be careful, they load a bit slowly).
I had no intention to take many more photos after that. Still, I had this camera, why not walk the neighborhood and take some snaps? And so I did, and discovered graffiti. I bought a better camera, the cheapest DSLR (digital single-lens reflex) I could find, a Pentax KD100. Took thousands of photos with that camera. Had a great time. Took some good photos. Then I bought a used Pentax K-7, a bit better, more pixels, and a Panasonic DMC-ZS7 for my point-and-shoot.
But I keep thinking, if I only had more megapixels, better light sensitivity, better lenses (a good wide-angle would be nice, a macro lens too). And, I really should read the freakin’ manual to learn more about what these cameras can do. Maybe even take a class.
But I also realize that, whatever equipment I have, whatever my level of technical skill, I’m going to push it past the limit. I would be easy to sink six figures (which I don’t have, otherwise I probably would) into equipment and a small studio, easy. I’d push that past the breaking point. Not always, not even most of the time, but sometimes. That’s just how I am. I’ve got far more technical skill on the trumpet than I have with the camera, and my trumpets are higher-end as well, not the very highest, but the kind of horns you’ll find in the best symphony orchestras and in the best jazz clubs. I still flirt with danger. The same in my intellectual life where, arguably, I work with SOA conceptual chops and often beyond the bleedseling edge of possibility.
That’s what I do.
At home in the community
I’ve lived in Hoboken since the summer of 2014, but also in 2010-2011. I was living in Jersey City when I bought my cameras; and that’s where I took most of my photos of graffiti. There’s not much graffiti in Hoboken. Lots of stickers here and there, tags in the same places, but no pieces, nor throwies either. Anyhow, as I explain in this old post, photography is what made Jersey City my home. Until then, it was just where I lived, but I was attached to it the way one is to home.
Still am, but Hoboken’s now my home. When I moved here, just like Jersey City, it’s where I happened to live. Then I started taking photographs. I’ve now taken thousands of photos of Hoboken, even (low) 10s of thousands. I’ve posted many of my photos to a Facebook Group: Hoboken Photo Group-Photos of Hoboken Shared Online. It was started by a local businessman, Roger Mueller. His family’s been in Hoboken since the beginning of the previous century.
Lots of people like my photos, that is, indicate that they like the photo by clicking the small thumbs-up button. That’s pleasing. Some people comment, pleasing as well. Most pleasing, however, are comments from people who left Hoboken 10, 20, 30 years ago but still check on FB to keep in touch with their hometown. I feel an obligation to those people. It’s their home, mine too.
