There’s something about writing a blog post that makes you (me? one?) get a bit preachy, so I’m going to try writing this one as just a statement of the facts, and readers (including me) can take from it what they want.
It was my father’s 60th birthday yesterday. He was visiting from England, so I was able to give him a gift in person. The gift:
- A fountain pen & ink
- A Kodak single-use camera
- Sheets of paper
- Envelopes
I had been struggling with what the gift should be, and my (thoughtful, creative) wife suggested a writing set—with the real gift, of course, being that we’d write to one another (my father and I). I loved the idea, and wanted to take it one step further: a film camera. If the words we shared were going to be analog, I wanted our photos to be, too.
The pen, paper and envelopes—of course—were for handwritten letters. To get us started without getting lost in analog-camera land, I bought the single-use camera—one for each of us.
My father loved the idea too, but shared a concern: “it will take me forever to use all 27 frames” (and therefore too long to send a letter). The concern came from assuming that the photos should be “good,” but I suggested that the photo need not be some artistic masterpiece. Instead, I offered, it should simply aim to capture a moment.
I also know my father well enough to predict that when I asked him to write me a letter, he would write something, you know, letter-y. It would be written as he’d never actually speak, and end with how proud he was (in far too many words). I know myself well enough to predict that I would eventually stop replying to letters like this.
I offered another suggestion (let’s call it): write as if this was the dominant medium of the century; as if you had to share everything this way, not only the stuff that feels fit for pen and ink. I want to hear about the silly joke you heard, I said; about the annoying thing at work. I want a photo of the weird-shaped tomato that you bought.
We’ve yet to share our first analog letters and photos, but I’m excited to send and receive them. I’m looking forward to reading a letter that has an occasional “lmao” and goofy sketch. I’m extremely prepared to find a photograph of “the best bloody cuppa I’ve ever had.”
I’m increasingly drawn toward analog things. Slow things. Private things. I want indecipherable handwriting, over-exposed portraits, and just a little more time to reflect on and capture life.