The Things We Remember

Recently I've been sharing some of my photos with friends. One friend emailed me privately, asking if I had at one time studied photography or worked as a photographer because I "have a good eye." I truly appreciated my friend's kind words, and as I mulled them over, I was taken back to my time as an undergrad, when I was studying photography.

I loved everything about working with film. Not long into my first black and white photography class, the TA wandered in while I was working one evening. I had just developed an image of a wind chime that hung on the front porch of my parents' old farmhouse. I had achieved a nice range of tones with the image and the TA remarked about this. I was really pleased I was understanding how to work my camera as well as the enlarger and chemicals. I spent hours in that darkroom, determined to learn as much as possible about black and white photography.

The professor of the class showed up for the lecture portion but left the lab component to the TA. I remember thinking the professor being one of those artsy, eccentric types. I found him intriguing. But, it became clear to me after the first semester I was never going to get an A for my work. Not even after a class trip to Chicago, to the Art Institute, and I was in the right place at the right time to snap a gorgeous picture of two men, one white, one black, sitting outside the Institute. When I presented the image for critique at our next class meeting, everyone . . . EVERYONE . . . commented on the beauty of the image. Including the professor. He also said, "You have a good eye." That image became my defining moment as a photographer. I knew I was good. Really good.

I got a B for the semester. And every semester after.

I know art is subjective and I'm sure there were issues with my work that warranted the B's. That being said, I also know the guys in the class fared better. I know this because I was dating one of the guys at the time. Our last semester in the program, we all had to create a final project of our choosing. I took lots of pictures that represented the different facets of being involved in the horse world. I developed those pictures then painstakingly worked to create slides of the black and white images. From there I created a story set to music, which meant listening to hours and hours of music to determine what fit with the images. In the end, I had a photo essay accompanied by music. Keep in mind, all of this was before computers, so each component of the project had to be done independently. Lots and lots of hours tied up in this project.

I got a B on the project and a B for the course. The guy I was dating? He started his project but didn't finish it. He got an A for the course. When I remarked to the professor and the guy I was dating how unfair it was I got a B and he got an A, both just laughed. 

This morning, I was thinking about all of this because I recently pulled out my old camera. I still have it all these years later. I bought new batteries for it, and I have film on the way. I'm so looking forward to getting back to working with film, which is a very different animal than working with a digital camera. 

That image I took of the two men got lost somewhere along the way. I think about it at times, wish I still had it and the negative. I guess I'll just have to work to create my next gorgeous image.


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