Me Monday

 

In decluttering closets, I found I have not one, but two polaroid 600 cameras.  I also have one box of film.  I don't need two Polaroids.  (Do I even need one? but I do have that box of film and it must be less than 30 years old.  It would still be good, right?  Would young people today even understand, let alone experience, the wonder of film that develops in your hand??  And, if they would, would Zupe?)

Back to the portrait.  

It felt like there might be a cartridge of film already inside the green camera.  I opened the camera up.  Nothing happened.  I pushed the shutter control.  Moment.  FLASH.  BUZZ.   WHIRRRR.  I blink back the stars in my eyes as the flash had gone off in my face.  I had just succeeded in, I almost wrote "once again" but I'm sure I have never done it before, taking a polaroid selfie.  Woohoo.  I held the film and I held my breath.

If I had been sincere in that endeavor, I'd be long dead.  It has now been 3 days.  This is what my developed image looks like.  Now, there is a probability greater than zero that I am, in fact, a vampire or some immortal creature whose likeness cannot be captured on film... but chances are greater that this film is damaged, exposed, expired, way too far out of date.

Polaroid, self-portrait.  May 2026

What I like about this photo?  I think it captures my best side.  My imagination.  And it somehow glosses over all my flaws.  Not one wrinkle visible and my eyes are not even slightly bloodshot.  I am thinking "that Ann" has 20-20 vision without glasses! 

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