stinky cameras
stinky cameras
That would have to be the funniest post ever. Stinky Canonets. No one knows where it has been. Just imagine that something romantic happened to it in some far off place. Something malodorous and romantic.
Perhaps your olfactory aversion to the putrid Canonet will lead to a sort of love/hate relationship that will sprout unique artistic vision. The torturous experience of holding it so close to your nose will inspire the artist in you to come alive with . . . irritation maybe. . . I know that something shockingly unpleasant often stirs creative emotion in me.
Painstakingly, slowly, deliberately, lovingly with a cue-tip and tweezers and a jewler's glass, you will massage the stench from its bones.
I see it. . . you are sitting in a small room. Maybe a very large room made small by the close glow of the light over your head, sort of a dim spot of orange in the blackness of the room, and you are huddled over the camera breathing shallowly through your mouth, nose plugs stuffed assertively in your nostrils, sweat running down your face, guiding the cue-tip over the camera's stinking surfaces slowly and intensely. When you have finished, you bound into the darkness, ripping the nose plugs from your nostrils, throwing down the jewler's glasses, burst through a door into the brightness of daytime, into the cool air, and press the camera to your nose lustily inhaling its fresh scent - really bringing its new cleaness into your lungs fully. Almost like a virgin it lies brilliant and stenchless in your weary hands.
