Polaroids

On the center of the granite countertop of the mini bar in my grandparents’ house, a home I spent the majority of my childhood in, sits a single polaroid. In that polaroid is a picture of me as a little girl, food all over my face with my dog right in front of me.

That is the only photo I have from my childhood and I can barely remember the story behind the photo. Now, it makes me wonder how many memories I’m missing out on because I can’t remember. This is also because I have no photos to revamp my memory.

I have no photos of myself with long hair, with my parents, or pictures of my dogs. All I have are my memories; the ones blurred between the lines of trauma and bliss that was my childhood, the ones I desperately want to forget and remember all at once.

Photo Credit: theverge.com

It’s terrifying that I have such a clear memory of the smallest details nowadays, but I can’t even remember the details of my parents’ faces. The little things in life that were defining aspects of my day to day life as a kid are blurred images in my mind today.

All I would have are these photos, but I don’t even have those.

Now, I have an abundance of videos and photos piling up in my Snapchat memories and phones new and old holding numbers of concert videos that I barely look at anymore. Videos that I refuse to give up, in case I want to look back on them and smile. I have photo albums filled with developed photos, polaroids from prom and random nights with friends, lining the shelves of the desk in my dorm room.

Some people say you need to live in the moment, to put your phone away and let your mind keep the images. But, I can’t. I don’t take photos and shaky videos to post them on my social media; I take them so I can hold on to the memories forever in the literal palm of my hand.

I have no photos from my childhood. Not a single one. Not in a photo album, on my phone, but I wish I did. As much as I try to forget everything from my life before I was ten, I wish the memories weren’t becoming just memories. I wish I could hold on to a photograph and relive the moment all over again.

But, that’s why I take photos all the time through the lens of three different cameras. So in thirty years, I can look back with a clear image and not just rely on the one in my head.

Sprinkles ATM

One of the greatest inventions has been put into use this past month.

Sprinkles, my favorite cupcake store of all time, has opened up a 24-hr/ 7 day a week cupcake ATM. That way (if any of you have seen or experienced the lines at a Sprinkles Cupcake store), you don’t have to wait for 20-30 minutes just for your share of red velvet or black and white.

This invention is great for two reasons: efficiency and novelty. People are drawn to it because they do not have to spend too much time waiting in line. Working men and women alike can pick it up with a swipe of their card.

It is also a new and exciting way to approach such a simple dessert. I personally wouldn’t want to spend too much time in a line. However, my biggest reason behind checking out the cupcake ATM is just for the heck of it.

Besides, its fun! There is a little camera that follows the mechanical arm inside the ATM that leads you to the cupcake and follows it on its journey out into your welcoming hands.

This next break, I welcome everybody to check it out! The closest one to Ojai Valley School is in Beverly Hills:

Underwater Photography

“Buoyed by water, he can fly in any direction – up, down, sideways – by merely flipping his hand. Under water, man becomes an archangel.” –Jacques Cousteau

There is nothing natural about breathing underwater.  But when SCUBA diving, the world seems to fall away.  Nothing exists but the cool blue-green and the shafts of light that pierce water.  Problems vanish and anxieties melt, swirling past in the constant tide.

One can never possibly find the words to describe diving.  The sound of bubbles, as they rush through your regulator, whirling past your ears and up to the sun, is a low, muted gurgle.  Fog coils around the corners of your mask no matter how well you defog before descent.  Everything is tinted blue and glows softly, flickering as the surface churns.  The weight of your gear is sweet, familiar, even loving.  Each fin cycle is soothing and smooth.

Existence is different down under the sea.  It is simpler and yet, electrifying.  Every sense is heightened, every sensation, magnified.  The only way to bring it back to the surface is through film.  Underwater photography is my specialty.

This summer I got my advanced SCUBA photo certification through Naui at CIMI.

If you’ve ever used a camera on land (which I’m sure most of you have) you probably know it’s difficult to get a good shot.  The lighting is always tricky, your hands might be shaking, the composition is off, your subject isn’t cooperating.  Think of all those volatile factors and then imagine that underwater.

Light exists differently beneath the surface.  Objects appear about a third larger than their actual size and some colors such as red, yellow and orange are much subtler underwater.  The water is constantly pushing and pulling you around and if you’re moving, so is your camera.  A majority of the time you cannot set up your pictures, you must simply photograph whatever presents itself to you.  There is no room instruction or preference, each shot is a gift given by the sea.  Often the subject will be hiding, moving or swimming exactly where you don’t want it to.  So I think it’s pretty clear that this kind of photography is a little tricky.

Personally, I enjoy working with macro lenses (close up) in SCUBA photo.  The amount of and control you have is greater because you can decide how much or how little you want in the shot more effectively.  Wide-angle lenses and fish-eyes are used for larger marine life; two problems with these lenses are: one, you may or may not see any big stuff.  And two, there is NO way to control how the big stuff will (or will not) pose for the shot.

Algae shots are the easiest and sometimes the most radical.  These photos are typically a point-and-click type deal.  They will turn out or they won’t.  I took this picture in 2010:

Italian Gardens, Catalina Island: 2010

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Smile for the Camera.

Click.
Click.
Click.

He hunches over with his camera in hand, turning at obscure angles to try and get the perfect shot of the two cars.

Click.

He stands on his tip toes, his camera far above his head, trying to see form a view that isn’t his own.

Click

He mounts a jack to his own car before attaching his camera and speeding down the winding roads of a mountain.
I’ll edit out the jack later, he thinks to himself while twisting through the turns.

Click.

He smiles at me as I take a picture of him, a wild horse right out of frame, laughing.
“These things are the spawn of satan,” he says to me.

Click.

He waits on the ridge of a mountain, keeping his camera in front of him and his eyes searching.
My shutter speed has to be perfect, he thinks.
There’s a flash of lighting far away, and a smile stretches across his face.

Click.

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