This has been a sad year, and most of us have had ample time (indeed, for many, too much time) for introspection and planning. Many posters here expanded their photo horizons in so any good ways. Me, I decided to do the opposite and reduce my photo options. A sort of 'minimalising' of my creative activities in Covid-locked down Australia, for an indefinite period, or perhaps permanently.. Just now, I don't know for sure.
Late last year we moved from Tasmania back to the mainland. I did almost all the packing as my partner works full-time. Shock and horror to discover that of the 100+ large cartons of possessions we intended to take back with us, 35 cartons were my photo/darkroom gear. The B&W chemistry alone took up 16 of those boxes.
So a big cull was called for. Much of what I decided - during a second massive cull of everything we owned - I really didn't need was donated to our local camera club and to photographer friends. All the chemicals stayed in Tasmania. A few items were sold. Four huge enlargers ended up as two - I kept the Leitz Focomat and the LPL 7700 for future printing projects, if these ever eventuate. A few cameras found new homes. My image archives were kept. We did take the cats, but not in cartons.
Once settled in our new home (never mind the 60 or more cartons still cluttering up the main hall and second and third bedrooms) I set to rebuilding my pre-digital era photo archive, the earliest work dating to 1962 - and realized how much I'd neglected and, more importantly, how much work was involved in trying to come to grips with this overload.
Silly me to have neglected doing anything but filing away negatives and slides for almost three decades. The scanning will take forever. Keywords and captions eat up so much precious time.
Then the next problem, what to do with all those archived, keyworded/captioned photos?
I resolved this, in a way, by setting up categories - personal, family, travels, architecture (I was an architect for 20|+ years and have many thousands of images of client work which I need not keep, but I do), colonial buildings (about 40,000), cats (we've lost count). This has at least let me retain my sanity to an extent, even if I've only managed to make a small dent in the pile.
A couple of months of serious thinking brought me to the resolve that much of what I've shot in the last six decades, will remain unscanned unless I have a specific demand or need for an old image. Even so my old photos must still be identified, checked for damage and decay, and keyworded/captioned before returning to their hidey-holes in archival folders and acid-free boxes.
A half dozen camera kits will go, later this year when the sale market improves in Australia - but that's another story, maybe worth a future post.
All this has caused a degree of angst, and I found affected my photography, to the extent that I no longer carry a camera with me on my daily exercise walks. Street shooting in an Australian country town isn't especially satisfying. Interesting subjects are few and far between and many bush Aussie dwellers aren't particularly social or polite and often don't take kindly to having a 70-something stranger push a camera into their faces in public. Doing portraits of flowers and trees and white cockatoos in our local parks holds no appeal for me, so that aspect is definitely out.
I live in the hope that Covid lockdowns and travel restrictions in Asian countries and here in Oz will loosen up in the not-too-distant future so I can go Asian nomad wandering, tho' this now looks like I had best not pin my hopes too high until the end of this year.
I'm reading old photography books and acquiring new ones here and there as I go - my latest prize is 'On Photographing People and Communities' by Daoud Bey, an Aperture book found in, of all places, a discount bookshop in Melbourne just before the latest stage 4 lockdown clicked on and the city center became a ghost town. The book wasn't cheap, but it has opened my eyes to new potential in people photography, o which I'd not really devoted much time in my quest to record old colonial buildings and other period architecture before the property developers' bulldozers turn up.
I have now concluded that we photographers are neatly categorized (or maybe 'pigeon-holed') into two specific sociological categories, the under-65s and the over-65s. The first lot look forward to greater things in their imagery, while the other lot are seeking for more ultimate (and in my case, minimalist) outcomes.
As always, your thoughts on all this will be appeciated.