There is only one photographer scheduled for Sundays, and for this month I'm it.. I had to find two features before shooting a college hockey game at 2. So.. after a lot of ridiculously slow driving and gawking out the window at anything that moved, I decided to wander around White River Junction. There's something really charming about that town.. Slightly run down but with random bright colorful art and artist communities.. I started snapping some pictures, and they seemed blurry, but after working 12 hours yesterday and not getting enough sleep, I thought maybe I was just going crazy... I started taking pictures of a guy, andy, working on his truck in front of his bright blue house... blurry. blurrier. I start to get a headache looking through the camera and trying to focus it.. and then I look down at my 28 mm lens, and realize that it is broken, literally, and about to fall into two pieces. And this makes me very sad.
Sometimes I can really judge how I'm feeling by what lens I keep on my camera... It's almost always the 28. Especially when I'm feeling healthy, happy, courageous, and truly loving with the people around me. Most of the photographs that I've taken so far that I truly feel connected with, were taken in a situation as mentioned above, when I wasn't afraid to keep on the 28 and be within range of reaching out and touching the people in the pictures. I feel myself gravitating more toward the 50 when I'm feeling a bit shy... It's strange. Anyway... here's the progression of blur.