As a rule, I keep my expectations low to avoid disappointment. It’s a pessimistic practice, sure, but it usually works out pretty well and I am delightfully surprised more often than not. But oh boy do I get worked up about Rock and Mineral Shows and they are never disappointing, not even a little bit.
My budget frowns upon rock-buying, so I thought I’d take my camera and do a little work/play and reward myself with a productive Sunday. Inspired by the work of Photographer Garry Winogrand, I switched my DSLR to monochrome and braced myself for the inevitable discomfort of photographing strangers at a public event.
Except it was not awkward! My first few tepid shots of the Madagascar tent led me to Justin, who introduced himself immediately and did not get weird when I asked him to pose with his hilarious smiling agate. (The key is to preface the weird request by acknowledging that you are making a weird request so that people know you know you’re weird.)
Justin, who is delightful, and his favorite rock, Cookie Monster.
Gaining confidence, I asked the woman from whom I bought several lovely pieces, if I could take her photograph. I was impressively smooth. Smoother than I have ever been. Smooth as polished hematite.
“I like your shirt,” I said.
(She and her husband had matching custom shirts featuring a marmot captioned “Still Digging.”)
“Do you mind if I take your photograph, I’m documenting my day at the rock show for a new blog.”
“Of course,” she said.
Nailed it.
"Still Diggin."
The adventure gave me a much-needed dose of artistic confidence. Launching this website was intimidating; the task has been a nagging unmarked item on my to-do list for more than three years, so creating a whole new set of images and uploading them in less than a day was encouraging. At Colvig I am given a constant stream of new material—pirate-themed lake days, and homemade unicorns are a tough act to follow in the “real world” which presents far less obvious photographic opportunities. When I come back from Durango I’m discouraged by the mundane and I shut down. My hope in paying for a professional website, having business cards, offering products, even going back to school-- all of these forward-motion type-things—is that I can maintain some of the summer’s momentum to expand myself as an artist and make use of the indulgent degree I allowed myself to pursue five years ago.
The bats that live in the Art Barn at Camp better watch out because I am getting ideas...