The first real 35mm camera I ever used was a Nikon FG that belonged to my father. I loved everything about that camera down to the smell. I was 17.
I never really understood ISO and shutter speed and shot mostly in auto mode, but in the age of disposable cameras, there was something very powerful about holding that camera and looking through the lens.
That camera is now broken, but I still have it and take it out every once and awhile just to look through it.
As a teenager I remember spending Saturday afternoons at chapters, sitting on the floor in the arts section, looking through the beautiful, glossy photography books. There was something ethereal about them.
The portraits were always my favorite. The way the eyes of the subject would bore right into me. I always was attracted to the bold contrasts of black and white images. The way the light illuminated the subject and caused an emotional response has always stuck with me.
As I venture back into this world of photography, these memories are fresh and I realize that all the artistic work I’ve done over the last few years has been preparing me to rediscover this lost love.