Photo book fragment.
My life has never felt so small. I don’t say this to elicit pity, or to pull at anyone’s heartstrings because I know bloody well how insignificant this really is. And I know bloody well that I’ve written about it before, two, three times during Our Great Pandemic Era; my feelings. Ugh. Those intangibles that have now replaced experiences, and physicality, and matter and touch and smells, in our receding world.
Some nights we’ll watch a documentary, Cynthia and I, and stare at those images of far away lands, on the bright, backlit screen/window/escape-hatch, like we’re gazing at outer planets, in another star system. Mouth agape. Ingesting. Passive.
So yeah, enough already.
...
I’d love to tell you about spectacular plans, and how this project is about to re-ignite the fire, still hot and simmering underneath. But all I have right now is a promise—to our group and to myself. It’s a promise to show up, whatever the results may be. As you’ve probably read, we’re keeping the parameters wide-open on this one. In fact, there are none. We’re all free to set our own goals, to pursue what feels right. I’ve decided to go with a specific framework:
GFX 50S
An old Pentax 50 mm f/1.7 lens (so I’ll be using manual focus).
Portrait-orientation only.
5:4 aspect ratio.
A piano improv to accompany each post.
Publish every Friday (in February).
Why portrait-orientation? Because holy crap, I almost NEVER shoot that way. I mean, seriously, I can probably count the pictures on my ten fingers—well, maybe I need to include toes but still. It’s something I’ve recently become very aware of, and it bugs me. It’s a massive gap I now wish to fill.
Beyond this, I don’t know. It’s the dead of winter here, full of wind and frostbite, and I don’t expect much to change in the next few weeks. Not just the weather…anything. But I will be here—for better or worse.
Circling the stars.
Patrick La Roque
January 26th, 2022
