No Moon

I don't think that the time of the "no moon" is named the way full moon's are. It is marked on calendars and my attention was gathered by it on Tuesday. It is the darkest night of the month, of course, and the time when stars are most visible. Stars and Dark. The tides are are least dynamic then. Are people calmer, more placid? I don't know. But I am going to keep watch for it now. I am quiet and contemplative by nature, and I enjoy a tranquil life, so I may find it my favorite time. However, I like the other as well. Nature has its way. We are cyclical.

I went to the beach this weekend. The day was overcast and we decided to try a place we never go. It is an inlet where the surfers surf and fishermen fish. And so we took some Holga cameras, those cheap, plastic toys, and walked around the beach. I was scouting for a series I hope to do on surfers if I get the time and nerve. I will photograph them with a 4x5 camera in big, heroic poses. The question for me is what film to use. I will do some experimenting see.

Photographing in public places always excites me, but I have difficulty doing it with someone I know. I think the problem is the personality change I must undergo to do it. I am not usually invisible and certainly not obsequious, but being a boy and an older one at that, I am suspect any time I carry a camera, so becoming innocuous is important. I certainly don't wish to be beaten by an angry crowd, but I imagine it could happen. It could be like the ending of West's "Day of the Locust."


I find that having an old or odd camera is a great help, though. Were I walking around with an SLR with a big zoom lens, I'm sure I'd be attended to by the authorities quickly. But the little Holga invites curiosity rather than hostility. And is great for shooting from the hip since you never really focus. My companion is learning photography, and since she has the great advantage of being a "girl with a camera," when I saw a father and son coming out of the water together with wet suits and surfboards, I suggested that she ask them if she could photograph them. And of course, they were happy to let her take their picture. So, now filled with most of the deadly sins, I jumped in awkwardly and said, "Can I take one, too?"

The next surfers we saw were a mother and son, or so I thought, though she was probably his older sister. But now suffering from the last embarrassment, I approached them for the photo. And, of course, my companion said, "Can I take one, too." Again, the surfers were gracious about standing for the portrait. "This is good," I said, but my companion's face had fallen.

"What's wrong," I asked.

"I didn't advance the film. I just double exposed the last photograph."

I thought the one she had taken was probably the better one, so I threw my head back and moaned involuntarily. This did not help, and my companion went into her first photo funk. It is awful to lose a picture, but after a while, you get used to it. The ones you lose, of course, are always the best ones. That is what you think. And so dejected, my companion decided to sit on her towel for awhile. I tried to make her feel better, but I had already done the wrong thing.


I wandered off on my own then, and that is when the photos started to really come. It seemed that the beach was a movie set designed by Lissette Model.

Here are some of the results. I've shown too many here in my excitement and will be sorry later when I am scrambling for images to post, but they work much better as a series, I think. I will show you the Holga surfer portraits later. Namaste.