My friend Martina is a serious photographer. A photojournalist, to be exact. For instance, she’s currently working on a beautiful project about nomads.
She asks me, Will you come with me to this fair of gems, stones, and precious rocks?
You see, I go there to check if there are nomads. I’m sure at the fair you’d take plenty of beautiful pictures with your colors and irony!
Sure, Martina! You know what? I’ll bring my Mamiya. I want to try to make a reportage on film because I’ve never done it before. I bought this camera and I want to use it!
Eight hours of driving and we are in Arizona. These saguaro cacti look so cool. Everything is exactly how I imagined it, like in Wile E. Coyote, so to speak. If I had a shutter release cable and some black-and-white film with me, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take some nocturnal photos of the desert.
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We get up early and—boom—we’re there. An expanse of hangars crammed with giant rocks, sparkling spiky crystals, huge and perfectly round spheres glowing in the blinding sun.
Shit. This Mamiya weighs like a shotgun wedding and I feel pretty awkward and uncomfortable carrying it. It’s not exactly the kind of camera you want for reportage. Will I be able to make it work?
Rows of bracelets, spiritual stones, but also fancy jewels. Incense, hippies, fat cats. There are some ugly faces too. Yes—who knows if someone is selling more than we can see, under the counter, we wonder.
She asks me, Will you come with me to this fair of gems, stones, and precious rocks?
You see, I go there to check if there are nomads. I’m sure at the fair you’d take plenty of beautiful pictures with your colors and irony!
Sure, Martina! You know what? I’ll bring my Mamiya. I want to try to make a reportage on film because I’ve never done it before. I bought this camera and I want to use it!
Eight hours of driving and we are in Arizona. These saguaro cacti look so cool. Everything is exactly how I imagined it, like in Wile E. Coyote, so to speak. If I had a shutter release cable and some black-and-white film with me, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take some nocturnal photos of the desert.
We get up early and—boom—we’re there. An expanse of hangars crammed with giant rocks, sparkling spiky crystals, huge and perfectly round spheres glowing in the blinding sun.
Shit. This Mamiya weighs like a shotgun wedding and I feel pretty awkward and uncomfortable carrying it. It’s not exactly the kind of camera you want for reportage. Will I be able to make it work?
Rows of bracelets, spiritual stones, but also fancy jewels. Incense, hippies, fat cats. There are some ugly faces too. Yes—who knows if someone is selling more than we can see, under the counter, we wonder.
