I repaired an Olympus Trip 35 on my bedroom floor with a screwdriver set that cost less than my coffee, loaded it with expired Kodak Gold, and drove to Raglan. What came back changed how I think about photography entirely.
I've been paying attention to the wrong things — not badly, just at the wrong scale. I kept waiting to feel ready. What I didn't notice was that myself was already here, in the small and the tactile and the close.
The shots where I hesitated came out worse — not because the light was different, but because something in the holding-back made it into the image.
Fully dried, going nowhere. I've stopped trying to decide what they mean.
Some writing, some photographs, some things made by hand. A place for finished work, unfinished thoughts, and the ongoing question of how to build a meaningful creative life.