My Camera's Story

As more time is spent together, sentiment grows between the photographer and his or her camera. The photographer, with the camera, experiences countless moments of adventure and misadventure, epiphany, disappointment, solitude, success, consolation, and awe. Because these moments of intense emotion occur in association with the camera, eventually the camera becomes a symbol of great sentimental value to the photographer - much like how any object can attain sentimental value with anyone when similar associations are experienced. This concept holds true to my Canon A1 35mm film camera, and this blog post will expound on the greatest sentiment my camera signifies to me.

The greatest sentiment with this camera began with the selfless love of my mom.

But firstly, I must digress so the reader may understand the predicament I was caught in a year ago wherein my mother's capacity for compassion was wholly exemplified.

In January of 2018, I sold my one and only 35mm film camera set: a Canon AE-1 with 3 exceptional lenses. My goal at the time was to either use that money from the camera sale for my Christian missionary service, or maybe, if my budget permitted in the near future, buy a 120mm film camera before I left for my Christian missionary service. Basically, whichever would come first, I would invest my money in, according to my budget and income. But, I soon realized during the subsequent month that I didn't think this plan through very well. Because I had sold my only instrument of photographing film (film being my favorite pursuit), I discovered a large void in my life. I also realized, being the poor college student that I was (and still am) that I actually would not be able to afford a 120mm film camera until long after I returned from my missionary service (which I anticipated would be for two years). So, essentially, I felt like a big part of my identity was missing, and it seemed like it would remain missing for a long period of time. For me, this was a defining moment where I experienced the powerful presence of absence. I realized through giving up my prized photographic instrument and the subsequent longing for photography pursuits, that I truly did love photography, and being a photographer was indeed a large part of my identity.

After this realization, I consoled with my mom about my dilemma. My mom has always been a great supporter for my photography, along with my dad, brothers and sisters. She knew how much I loved photography, and I'm sure that was reinforced as I expressed my longings to her. As I was conversing with my mom, I truly felt trapped and unsure what to do. I acknowledge now that practicing photography is such a privilege, but at that time, I definitely took that privilege for granted, and didn't realize how much I loved photography until it was unaccessible. Considering that photography is a privilege, my mom could have easily told me to get over it, which honestly, wouldn't have been such a bad parenting move. Kids can learn a lot by going through hard things, which is probably why my dad took me camping so frequently growing up. But in this seemingly insignificant instance, my mom exhibited such compassion that forever left an impact on me.

My mom worked (and still works) as a wig hair-dresser at a local performing theater in Orem. She makes low wages, and she uses that money for herself most often, for clothe shopping and the like. In this instance where I was camera-less, she offered to purchase another 35mm film camera for me in full, with her hair-dressing paycheck. I certainly didn't expect this solution to be presented considering that I was supposed to be a "responsible adult" in my parents' eyes, so I was surprised. I offered to help pay with whatever I could, but she insisted on paying in full - and these vintage 35mm film cameras are not necessarily cheap.

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I felt a rush of gratitude and excitement course through my veins. I was going to have an instrument to express myself through visuals again! But, I quickly realized that I felt I didn't deserve this. I felt indebted to my mom for an innumerable amount of things she had already done, and this was going to significantly add to this overflowing debt. So, by the moment I had purchased online (from Lithuania!) a Canon A1 35mm film camera with my mom's funds, I already had associated a bittersweet sentiment with the camera - being forever grateful for my mom's devoted love, and being forever lost as to how to repay her.

Over the subsequent year, (before and after I returned early from Christian missionary service) I vigorously took this Canon A1 to exploring - from the local Wasatch Mountains, to Southern Utah destinations, and across the Atlantic Ocean to Iceland. With this Canon A1, I was able to effectively photograph some of my most cherished sights and experiences. Those sights and experiences alone could create such sentiment for the camera with any photographer, but for me, this camera's foundational sentiment is found in the great compassion of my mom. I look at this Canon A1, and not only think of all the places I've been with it, but how the camera itself signifies the selfless love inherent in a devoted mother.

Indeed, every camera has a story to tell, beyond the photographs captured and places ventured, especially in the world of film, where vintage film cameras are recycled through generations of photographers. My Canon A1 has many stories of calculation, risk, sublimity, loneliness, consolation, nostalgia, and of unfavorable weather - but the greatest sentiment associated with this camera happened without the camera. The camera's greatest sentiment happened simply because of a devoted mother's love for her son, and that same love continually inspires me as I venture on each new photography pursuit.



Thank you mom! I love you!