Imagine there is a picture within the frame. A picture that you took, but will never show the world. A picture that means so much to you, that you fear that by showing it to the world, it would lose its magic.
I have such a photo in my phone, taken just yesterday.
I won’t show it because it is way too personal, but I will describe it.
I’m a sucker for vintage cameras, and over the weekend I took the plunge and bought a good-condition Olympus Trip 35. I had always wanted to get one of these, but I heard scary stories of units which selenium cell meter didn’t work anymore. Hence, I put off the purchase for this inexpensive camera for a long while.
I came across a post online last week for this Trip 35, and the seller posted pictures of the actual camera. It looked really good, almost brand-new. But what really got me interested was the fact that he said the meter on this camera was still working.
Recently, I attended a talk by a few photographers. Among those presented was a photographer whose name was once synonymous with “celebrity”, “A-list” and “high-profile”. 10 years ago, this photographer was very sought after by major international publications. But about 5 years ago, his name was hardly hanging off the lips of the industry anymore.
At the talk, this particular photographer talked a lot. It felt as though he was trying to make up for lost time. The time when he was forgotten, he had the chance now to show that he is still relevant.
I turned to a friend beside me, and told her: “That’s an old guard trying to stay relevant”.
I won’t say I am the No.1 fan of Daido Moriyama, but I think I am one of the more fanatical fans of his works here in Singapore.
The hunter gathers his tools
and, loads up.
He heads out alone
for fear that the noise of a crowd
will break the silence of his thoughts
and that, of the surrounding.
He walks long distances,
taking short breaks and,
occasionally sitting down for a coffee.
His eyes, however, doesn’t rest, and,
neither does his mind.
From the series, Krung Thep 2012. © Leonard Goh, 2012.
To the Land of Smiles!
In the picture above, you’ll see a Domke F2. But mind you, that’s not just any other Domke, or at least, that’s what I like to believe.
Long story short, this F2 was given to me by Raymond Toh, a photographer I worked for when I was 17.
I still remember vividly the day he gave me this bag. It was my last day of work since I had to go back to school, and in the evening after I was done packing up, he came up to me with the F2 and said that he didn’t have much to give me as a farewell present but he’d like me to have this bag.
Living room. 24 November 2011.
