Analog, Lo-Fi, or Film. A tale of two cameras.

Learn to let go. No instant feedback. No retakes. Just click, wind, repeat.

Shoot analog. Shoot digital. Take more pictures.

I recently inherited a D70S from my uncle, the professional photographer. No lens, but six batteries. As I hunted for a lens, I remembered in my dad's office, lay a forgotten Nikon FM. Metal camera and lens body. It's heavy, but in a good way; the heft suggests durability and resilience like Harris tweed or shetland wool. It's an acquired taste.

"Grab some black and white film, wake up early, and head down to Georgetown. Shoot some doors", my uncle suggested. I just might.

The 50mm F/1.4- I love the colored aperture labels.

I've enjoyed shooting with this for the past week on the D70S, but it's a bit long for a walk-around lens (on the DX sensor) so I bought a 35mm F/1.8.

Rewind 6 months. Camera-less and bored, I bought a Diana Mini (I refuse to call it Mini Diana) at the start of Fall semester. Not yet willing to buy a DSLR at that point, and unwilling to buy a point and shoot when I had 8MP in my pocket, I finally decided it could be fun to shoot with one of the numerous (and dreadfully trendy) plastic cameras on the market.

Capable of shooting up to 72 pictures in a half-frame format on a roll of 35mm film, I not only had to relinquish control of my photos, but also needed a few months to finish a roll.

Now I shoot mostly full-frame pictures on this.

Using such a primitive device forces you to re-evaluate your expectations. There are a number of times I've been frustrated with the outcome, operation, and limited capabilities of the camera, but I'm starting to realize therein lies the fun of it. There's a time and a place for any camera, but at any time and place you should have a camera.

Think less, shoot more.

Digital or Analog.

A quick trip to Harper's Ferry.

My friends and I made an extemporaneous trip out to HF, WV on Saturday afternoon. I was pleasantly surprised, having totally forgotten where Harper's Ferry was, when I was last there, and how to get there, that it was only a forty minute trip.

Growing up (mostly) in the D.C. area, I had the opportunity to visit numerous historical sites during my childhood. Gettysburg, Antietam, Williamsburg, Roanoke, St. Mary's, and Harper's Ferry, just to name a few. HF is a little town nestled just across the Maryland border in West Virginia and home to a beautiful and unique view of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers, re-creations of historic stores, interesting buildings (including a post office/police station/liquor store visible upon entering town), and (supposedly) a fair number of ghosts. There's enough to keep visitors occupied for a few hours, that is, if you don't arrive at 4:30PM on a Saturday.

It was a bit late in the day by the time we left, and a bit later by the time we arrived, but we figured we could hang around and get a ghost tour at 8. We didn't. We figured that we could grab dinner in town. We didn't. It turns out the last restaurant closes at 6. Fortunately, the views were worth the drive home on an empty stomach.

Mostly hidden by the shade of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the last hours of sunlight didn't offer any refuge from the cold temperatures. Walking through the empty streets, the winds blew gently, but relentlessly from across the river. As we shivered our way back towards the car, JJ decided this was just the time to come here- when the streets are empty, the skies are clear, and the town is yours.

How'd they paint that sign?

BWmF x Hans Solo in Carbonite fade.

Photography notes to myself: Stopping down would have helped on 85% of the pictures I took, but I think shooting wide open made this last picture perfect.

JJxPolaroid Spirit

A little "Sumpin' Sumpin'", a Celebration, and some phenomenal pizza

It was 1997. Ages ago, I know. I was in 3rd grade and one afternoon my mother told me she quit.


My childhood thus far had been marked by endless, but thoughtful (so I'm told) questions. I was a precocious little guy, thirsty for information on anything and everything. My mother did her best to oblige, but as with anyone, eventually ran out of answers. When she closed up shop, instead of expressing abject annoyance, she candidly explained to me the inherent futility of asking her esoteric questions.


Several days later I came home from school to find a number of boxes on the floor of my bedroom containing the World Book Encyclopedia. Today, I've had as many as forty-four tabs running in a single Google Chrome window. Such behavior is undoubtedly the evolution of a similar habit, my fanned, multi-volume approach to encyclopedia browsing I utilized on my bedroom floor.


I recently realized, over superlative beers and pizza with a close friend, not only my comfort with intensive research, but my proclivity for doing so. No matter what the subject, I've always sought to deeply immerse myself in hobbies. Knowledge, and more importantly the process of seeking and attaining it for myself, is a value on which I pride myself; however, over the past few years it's been substance vs. experience and I'm starting to wonder if my recent frustration is rooted in finally acknowledging the source of my preference for the sustainable/repeatable (material) over the ephemeral/unique (empirical).


On a lighter note- good beer and pizza are two things that possess both qualities- ephemeral and repeatable. Pizzeria Paradiso, in Georgetown (Dupont and Arlington have restaurants as well), is home to a great happy hour for their draughts and some of the best Neapolitan-style pizza I've ever eaten. The crust perfectly balances the light, flakey crispiness, characteristic of such pizzas, but still manages a chewy interior. My favorite is a modified "Atomica" with tomatoes, salami, pancetta (instead of black olives), red pepper flakes, and a healthy serving of gooey, perfectly melted fresh mozzarella.

The Atomica via D70S, old Nikon 50mm F/1.4, shot wide-open. My photography needs work, but shooting at F/1.4 is nice in low-lit restaurants.

I'm a hop-fiend. While BWmF enjoyed his Lagunitas Sumpin' Sumpin' Ale, I contemplated the curiously sweet and citrusy Founder's Celebration IPA.