Monday, December 29, 2008

Imperfect yet magical. Like life itself.


Yesterday I was nerdily buried in the Sunday New York Times, reading and reflecting on my first Christmas away from my parents. Following this revere was (besides a fabulous pot of french pressed Stumptown coffee) a lightly philosophical article about the end of Polaroid film; about the end of a form of photography that was exceptional because it hinged on that element of surprise. This was contrasted with today's trusty digital cameras, where imperfection can be carelessly deleted in a split second - maybe, just maybe, missing a shot of unexplored genius.

This got my already sentimental (and over caffeinated) mind running. Is life these days that different? Sometimes I find myself editing out the past because it doesn't fit the narrative (I'd elaborate, but that's fodder for my fiction). Why?

It also got me thinking of my grandpa Swede, the only person I ever knew to religiously wield a Polaroid camera. As is with the holidays, you miss the people who have passed on. But I was comforted, and more than a little amused, to flip through my Polaroids from him. His loving, warm and imperfect gaze comes across in each shot. It really warms my heart to think about it, him, my family. And that's why I'll always have a soft spot for that clunkynoisyarmygreen camera... and imperfections.

1 comment:

sharon.horowitz said...

Awww! You're so cute. Happy New Year!