sf
Veteran
This is not an anti-digital rant. This is really just a humorous but totally real experience. It actually has no substance whatsoever, but I just felt like writing.
I just escaped from Ken Rockwell's review of the Nikon D200 with my character intact. Looks like a nice camera - like the one I will probably end up buying if I slip back into shooting film production documentaries and all that. Or other commercial type work.
You know what they say about hell - as per the movie "What Dreams May Come",. . . don't spend too long there or you'll forget it isn't real. You can walk in and look around, maybe try and save your loved ones from eternal damnation, but a moment too long and you're lost and you never feel yourself slip away.
Unless part of you is beyond the reach of what would seek to steal your sense of reality - the part of us that ignites GAS and drives us to spend hours wrestling with chemicals and loading film and working in blazing hot bathrooms under red lights for immeasurable quantities of time. Immeasurable becasue time dissapears under red lights and in the stink of photographic chemicals.
I spent nearly too long reading about the D200's speed, image quality and durability. . . the veil fell over my mind and I began feeling like maybe digital wasn't so bad after all. Then I started thinking of the D200 as a reasonable replacement for a real camera. That moment, I woke out of the trance and closed the window instantly. Some part of me was still sharp and alive, thinking of the Bronica. It kept a little pocket of light deep inside.
This sort of experience also reminds me of "The Ring" in Tolkein's books. Strangely similar in some ways.
Not that digital is bad or anything. I actually quite like how efficient it is - but it clashes with my spirit.
The End
I just escaped from Ken Rockwell's review of the Nikon D200 with my character intact. Looks like a nice camera - like the one I will probably end up buying if I slip back into shooting film production documentaries and all that. Or other commercial type work.
You know what they say about hell - as per the movie "What Dreams May Come",. . . don't spend too long there or you'll forget it isn't real. You can walk in and look around, maybe try and save your loved ones from eternal damnation, but a moment too long and you're lost and you never feel yourself slip away.
Unless part of you is beyond the reach of what would seek to steal your sense of reality - the part of us that ignites GAS and drives us to spend hours wrestling with chemicals and loading film and working in blazing hot bathrooms under red lights for immeasurable quantities of time. Immeasurable becasue time dissapears under red lights and in the stink of photographic chemicals.
I spent nearly too long reading about the D200's speed, image quality and durability. . . the veil fell over my mind and I began feeling like maybe digital wasn't so bad after all. Then I started thinking of the D200 as a reasonable replacement for a real camera. That moment, I woke out of the trance and closed the window instantly. Some part of me was still sharp and alive, thinking of the Bronica. It kept a little pocket of light deep inside.
This sort of experience also reminds me of "The Ring" in Tolkein's books. Strangely similar in some ways.
Not that digital is bad or anything. I actually quite like how efficient it is - but it clashes with my spirit.
The End
Last edited: