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Industrial Line
Reflecting on the photograph I captured of the former industrial railroad line, it resonates on multiple levels, both in terms of aesthetic and historic significance. The textures and leading lines don’t just converge to create a beautiful image; they tell the story of transformation and change.
The Doodle Line‘s transformation into the Doodle Trail exemplifies a wider trend of repurposing old industrial spaces to fit contemporary needs. This concept of adaptive reuse not only preserves a slice of history but also breathes new life into areas that once hummed with the industrial activity of a bygone era.
The photograph elegantly captures the dichotomy between the bygone era of cotton and paper mills—a time when these lines were the arteries pumping the lifeblood of Southern industry—and their present state, being overtaken by nature’s relentless advance. This is emblematic of economic shifts where the old is giving way to new realities, quite visibly with the mills morphing into modern apartments.
The picture provides a commentary on the passage of time. The fact that the rails leading to the mill, now modernized into apartments, are slowly disappearing beneath grasses is a poetic representation of the relentless march of time and nature’s capacity for reclaiming. Yet, in the background, the mill stands as a haunting reminder of the past, bridging the historical divide.
Photographs play a crucial role in documenting these transitions. They offer more than just a visual treat; they invite contemplation and open dialogues about our collective history and future. They remind us that while places may change their skin, their bones remain steeped in the stories and memories of those who remember them as they once were.
The use of the Lerouge 135L to capture this image expands the narrative by giving a wider perspective. Not only does it allow more of the rustic scene to be included, but it also provides space within the frame to consider the old alongside the new, the industrial heritage juxtaposed with its future.
There is also a metaphorical aspect to consider—the rusting rails leading to repurposed mills serve as a symbol. They represent the inevitable evolution of industry and society, but also the way we lay tracks for the future while never really erasing the routes of our past. In essence, this photograph isn’t just a static image; it is a visual story unfolding, rich with texture, depth, and meaning.
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Pastoral Scenes
Growing up in the rural Southern United States was, as one might expect, a life filled with contrasts—combining the serene beauty of nature with the stark reality of hard labor. Just recently, I wrote a post about how a single photograph could stir a storm of emotions within a person. And there it was, on the light table, an image so potent that it whisked me back to my formative years without warning. The sight of horses trotting along fenced pastures against the backdrop of majestic, distant mountains was enough to transport me to an era long past, when my family owned a quaint farm about an hour’s drive from our residence.
It was a picturesque piece of land that we called our own, dotted with horses and ribboned with pastures; it boasted a tranquil pond and was caressed by trickling streams, with the presence of a river not far off. It was not just land—it was a fragment of paradise I held dearly in my heart. Those summers were idyllic, as I idled away the hours fishing on the pond or engaged in the exhilarating joy of horseback riding. Nevertheless, this bucolic splendor was no stranger to the demands of upkeep. Living in the city an hour away meant our visits were mostly confined to weekends, where time was consumed by the perennial tasks of fence mending and brush clearing to contend with the relentless growth of summer.
But memory has a curious way of revisiting us when we least expect it. A few weeks ago, Deana and I took a journey to Brevard, NC. On our homeward trip, she chose a detour through the scenic byroads of the countryside. It was a decision wonderfully made, for as we meandered past the rustic barns and expansive fields, with domestic animals grazing under the soft veil of mountain mist, a flood of remembrances overcame me. Those halcyon days of rustic life on our old family farm seemed to echo through time.
Adolescence is universally acknowledged as a challenging phase, a tumultuous bridge between the carefree spirit of childhood and the responsibilities that adulthood demands. Yet, nestled amidst nature on the farm, a young me could find solace in solitude, accompanied by the loyal presence of the animals—a sort of refuge from the clamorous march of school and the various trials life presented.
The pastoral scene captured in the photograph presented a vibrant tableau to my mind’s eye—the numerous hours expended in the company of our horses, and the transient yet timeless spirit of the wild animals who were the original tenants of that land. That land was a sanctuary, untouched by modernity’s hustle. The absence of cellphone coverage, the absence of the relentless pulse of music, and the absence of the invisible chains of wireless technology created an ambiance where tranquility reigned supreme. Here, the world spoke in the language of nature—through the casual mooing of cows, the poignant calls of birds slicing through the skies, and the delicate whispers of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. It was, for a fleeting series of moments, a return to simplicity and an unspoiled connection with the earth.
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Episode 4, Sowing the Seed, of Coffee with Jefferson Davis
In this episode, I discuss one photograph and how it can change your life for a moment or a lifetime.
With a click, the shutter opened for a fraction of a second, capturing not just an image but encapsulating a story of survival and beauty in adversity. I stood there for a moment, basking in the satisfaction that comes from knowing when you’ve caught a magic moment on film. This photograph, I sensed, would be a cherished addition to my personal collection, a reminder that even in the most unexpected places, there’s always something extraordinary to be discovered. I knew in that instant that I had something that I, at the very least, would love. -
Pentax Spotmatic F
As a seasoned photographer with a rich history of engagement with both film and digital photography, I’ve had the immense pleasure of working with an impressive array of cameras. My collection spans from treasured antiques like a one hundred-year-old Kodak, which is a marvel of early photographic engineering, to the cutting-edge technology encapsulated in the sleek Sony A7 series, which represents the pinnacle of modern digital photography.
The array of cameras I have encountered in my career has taught me that each camera, irrespective of its age or technology, holds a unique value and potential for creativity. Each one has its special place in the timeline of photography and in my own personal journey as a photographer.
Reflecting on the period a few years ago when the world slowed down and we found ourselves sequestered in our homes, I rekindled my relationship with an old favorite—the Minolta srT series. This wasn’t just a reversion to past equipment; it was a nostalgic journey that allowed me to reconnect with a significant part of my photographic journey. Minolta cameras had been a part of my life since my early days, and revisiting them was like conversing with an old friend, familiar yet full of new stories to tell.
Going back to the fundamental aspects of photography with Minolta, I rediscovered my love for the craft. The tactile sensation of loading film, the mechanical click of the shutter, and the anticipation of developing shots offered a stark contrast to the immediate gratification of digital photography.
Minolta was always a very respected brand but underrated. While Canon and Nikon stole the limelight, Pentax and Minolta worked on refining their systems. Minolta, to me, always built a robust system and their lenses were amazing at depicting exactly what you saw through the viewfinder. Pentax, also known for their robust cameras, depict scenes with an ethereal feel. I have always admired Pentax lenses for that reason.
Discovering that I was losing my sight was a difficult pill to swallow. Two months back, as I was wallowing in self-pity, I stumbled upon an eBay auction that now seems like it was a beacon in the dark—a Pentax Spotmatic F paired with its infamously sharp 50mm f/1.4 lens, all starting at a mere $6.00. Not taking it too seriously, I threw in a whimsical bid of $13, never truly entertaining the thought that it would be mine. Imagine my surprise when the notification came through—I had actually won.
Our financial situation was tight, threading on the line of being broke, but I completed the transaction and shared the news with my incredible wife, Deana. Her support has been unwavering, and sharing my victories, however small, always felt like the wins were ours to cherish together.
The package took its time, but its arrival was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. We both have our Pentax K1000s, perfectly suited for each of us, yet the Spotmatic was a stranger to my collection. That all changed the moment I held it. It was as if the camera was an extension of my hand; I instantly knew that this little machine and I would create many fond memories together.
I invested a languorous afternoon into its care, ensuring that the mirror bumper had new life, the light seals were replaced, and that no old grease had turned against the inner workings of this mechanical masterpiece. The camera was in pristine condition, and the lens was immaculate—free from dust and the fog of age.
Taking it out for a maiden journey, I felt a blend of excitement and calmness. As I operated the camera, each subtle feature—from the smoothly operating advance lever to the distinct click of the shutter—resonated with me, as if it were speaking the language of my passion.
The results were nothing short of stunning. The roll of film developed revealed photographs that held an exceptional quality, with a kind of soul that only film can capture. So far, I have only shot one roll of film in it, but the promise of many more to come lingers in the air—provided, of course, I manage to keep the Spotmatic out of the admiring hands of my beloved wife. For in our house, the love for photography is a shared one, and the allure of this newly-acquired treasure is strong. Who knows? Perhaps this will become her new favorite, but for now, I remain its devoted custodian and collaborator in capturing the beauty of our world. It really is her camera. 😉
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Breath of God
Photographers often revel in the serendipity of their craft, finding moments of accidental beauty that are captured forever through the lens. A prime example of this lies within my own portfolio, which is peppered with such fortunate instances.
On a notably warm afternoon in February, one that defied the typical chill of the season, I found myself walking near the First Baptist Church of Easley, SC. In the stillness of the day, something quite compelling caught my eye. The church’s cross, an enduring symbol of faith, stood tall and was adorned with royal cloth in preparation for the upcoming Easter celebrations. The rich fabric, against the backdrop of the church’s architecture, presented an intriguing visual treat, yet it was the absence of a dynamic element, like wind, that left the scene slightly wanting.
The Pentax Spotmatic F in my hands, a tool of analog precision, was married to the superb Takumar 50mm f/1.4 lens, widely acclaimed for its ability to render images with incredible sharpness and beautiful bokeh. However, it wasn’t just the technical excellence of this camera-lens duo that I depended upon to encapsulate the essence of the moment.
As fate would have it, as I was about to move past the church thinking the scene would remain static, a wind arose, almost on cue, breathing life into the scene before me. The royal cloth began to billow gracefully, and I instinctively turned towards the cross. With the sun casting just the right amount of light and warmth upon the scene, the wind’s sudden choreography imbued the image with a dynamic quality, elevating it from a mere still life to a vibrant tableau.
Seizing the moment, I pressed the shutter button with joyous anticipation. The Spotmatic F operated with a satisfying smoothness, the mechanical click of the shutter capturing more than just an image, but the culmination of absolute chance meeting preparedness. The photograph ultimately taken was not just a display of the camera’s capabilities or my own readiness as a photographer, but a testament to the unpredictable beauty that often accompanies the art of photography—a true happy accident that encapsulated the harmonious interplay between man, machine, and the divine.
