I've Needed Photography

I really do think that's one of the answers to the riddle of my recent bouts of depression. My wife and I were both very active photographers right up until we had kids. We're both landscape photographers, and don't do much people photography. So despite what most people might think ("Awwww! Now you have such cute subjects to photograph!") we went from running two rolls a day every weekend to zip, zero, equipment on the shelf with the batteries pulled out.

We eventually traded all our 35mm gear in for a DSLR body, but kept the lenses because in their infinite wisdom, Canon kept the lens mount. (THANK YOU, CANON!) Still, it didn't see nearly the use we'd hoped, and I began to worry that we'd wasted our money and time. Were we done with photography? Was that it? Really?

When I started doing KAP, I considered it to be something completely other. Heck, if there wasn't wind there wasn't a picture. Contrast that with the number of times I've stood in a field of wildflowers waiting for the wind to die so I could trip the shutter. I wasn't getting out to do photography, I was getting out to do KAP.

But I found out that I could! And that's the important part. The kids were old enough to self-entertain, so all of a sudden it was possible for us to go somewhere, pull gear out, and stand around for hours at a time flying a kite with a camera on it, OR, trying to compose shots and wait for light. The same patience on their part is required either way.

So I tried an experiment. Despite running more of a fever than I wanted, I packed up KAP gear, DSLR gear, my 4x5 bag, and an inordinate amount of snack and water, and bundled me and my son off to the side of Mauna Kea to photograph silverswords. These are an endangered species of plant unique to Hawai`i, and the Mauna Kea Silversword is unique to the Big Island. The last time I'd visited this particular area there were two plants in one spot and maybe seven in another.

Silverswords are a lot like yucca plants in that they flower once, then die. With a silversword it can live anywhere from four to a hundred years before flowering. You really can't tell until it happens. It had been close to four years since my last visit, and I was worried they might all be gone.

To my amazement and delight, both of the plants at the first site had died, but they had had numerous offspring. One cluster must've had ten individual plants growing in it. My son spotted two other cluster. They were spreading!

At the second site there were dozens of plants scattered over a much larger area than before. I just about jumped up and down and cheered! I did set up my tripod a second time to photograph one of the silverswords in this group. As I finished setting up the shot my son asked if he could take a picture, too. I handed him the cable release and said, "I'll tell you when to trip the shutter." He tripped it three times before I even got a film holder loaded! But by the time I was ready to pull the dark slide, we had an understanding.

The ladybug was gracious enough to pose.

I made an abortive attempt to photograph the field of silverswords from the air, but unstable mountain winds put a quick end to that. My rokkaku was up about 250' above the ground when the wind died entirely. I was taking in line as fast as I could in an effort to grab the camera before it smashed into the ground when I heard my son shout, "DUST DEVIL!" Even with gloves on, I swore the line was going to chop my fingers off. It must've been a 35 knot blow. With a kite with almost 32 square feet of surface area, the force was outrageous. I managed to walk the kite down and stow my gear before any serious injuries happened.

When we got home I sealed up the bathroom, checked for light leaks, and set up the trays for developing. It's hard to describe the emotions when you finish fixing the film and get to turn on the lights. I still work to the numbers because there are chemicals to put away, trays to clean and stack to dry, and a timed rinse to go through. But as each sheet is pulled from the fixer and placed in the rinse tank, it's like taking in a deep breath of crystal clean air. Life itself.

I've needed photography. I realize now I've needed it for years. It's refreshing to be able to do something about it.

Tom