Mamiyaroid #1

Greenwood At Night

Chinatown features a lot in my novel, as does fortune telling (the mother in my novel tells fortunes to supplement her income). When I recently told my mother that I finally finished my novel she said she had a dream that my (deceased) amah visited her. Amah met her outside the supermarket in Washington Heights, holding two bundles of ghost money, and something else I don’t remember. My mother said this means my grandmother is blessing us with good fortune. The thing is, I’m ambivalent about all this. I grew up hearing these kinds of dream-prophesies, and while I don’t believe in astrology, or tarot, except as stories people tell themselves to figure out where they’ve been, and where they hope to go, I am reluctant to tempt fate by dismissing all superstitions. This is what some of my novel is about, and it’s what my essay, My Mother’s Ghosts, is about. But my novel isn’t about my mother. The book is fiction, and even if she could read English, I doubt she would recognize herself. 

Chinatown optical shop on my iphone.

The germ of the idea for my novel pre-dated my divorce, but it didn’t really take its current form until that was well under way. I’m a slow writer. But that’s okay. This book was something I had to grow into, which is where photography comes in. I always knew I wanted to write about a woman seeking to find, and connect with, her birth father. Since I share some of the superficial biographical details of my protagonist—Taiwanese-Irish American librarian—I know people will think this is my story, but it’s not. I have an aunt (by marriage) who re-connected with her father later in life, but her details are completely different from the ones in the book. In fact, her father stood her up. The one in my book doesn’t. But I wanted my character to have some obsessions and at the time I 1) kicked my soon-to-be ex out of our band, 2) promptly quit the band, so I didn’t want to write about music. I chose photography, instead. Mainly I wanted my character to have something to strive for. And while I always had an interest in photography, I never took it seriously, mostly because of money. Photography is expensive! I certainly couldn’t afford to study it in high school or college. While I was in the band I saw a weird camera and bought it on a whim. If you know anything about analog film photography you know that a twin lens reflex camera with zone focusing isn’t the best way to learn. Still, it was a fun camera and I liked the square mask that allowed me to shoot square images on 35mm film (I was not ready for medium format). Still, it was just a hobby, nothing I took seriously. Similar to when my mother’s long ago once-husband found a 35mm point and shoot camera in the back of his cab and gave it to me. I took that to San Francisco in 2004 and captured what is surely now a much different city. (I will recommend a book on Friday that covers the ruination of SF.)

After choosing photography for my protagonist, I took a few classes in order to write knowledgeably because my librarian brain despairs over anachronisms. Joke’s on me, though, because I became obsessed. I went from making do with an entry-level Canon DSLR, to learning 35mm with a Canon AE-1 I bought used at Housing Works, to instant film taking over my life and my wallet. But before I completely lost it to Polaroid and Fuji FP-100c, I treated myself to a mirrorless digital camera and bought a Fuji X-Pro2. It’s still my go-to digital camera and I’ve used it to take friend’s author photos, among many other projects I’m proud of.

For today’s newsletter I went back into my digital archive and found images from the early days of my Xpro-2 ownership. I’d already taken a portrait class with my beginner Canon DSLR, but I was still learning low-light exposure and the ins-and-outs of the Xpro-2.  This was also a little bit after my divorce, when I was dating a lot. Getting lost in the technical details of photography, and being an observer, helped mitigate and assign purpose to my loneliness. I signed up for an Atlas Obscura event: nighttime at Greenwood Cemetery. The appeal for most people was a carnival-like atmosphere with fire eaters and a live band, and the frisson of trespassing a cemetery at night. I just wanted some night photography action! Actors roamed the grounds playing carnies and assorted ne’er do-wells and inside one of the crypts was a fortune teller with a crystal ball. I can’t even remember if she told fortunes because my main goal was to take her portrait, which she obliged. I used my Polaroid Lab to print i-type polaroid prints from my original X-pro2 files. The focus in the originals and these prints is too soft, so technically not my best, but sometimes you get the content just right, and that’s how I feel about these portraits.

I-type prints of my X-Pro2 digital files. (Go to my shop to see the original digital file.)

I always joke that Greenwood has the grave of a great American, but it’s true. Charles Feltman invented the hot dog. While I was at the cemetery I got a message from a tinder match and he asked me what I was up to. I wrote: “Eating a hot dog in the cemetery.” We went on one terrible date where he spoke in a fake pan-European accent the entire time. Because I’m a writer I do things that are good for my writing, but bad for my psyche. I almost always perform my own stunts.

Here’s the plan: Each week I will publish original photography with short commentary: a mix of personal, technical, and critical. On Fridays I will send a short letter of recommendations: music, books/readings, and sometimes film.

I love to receive comments and questions about photography and cameras!

My email: adalenakavanagh@gmail.com

Instagram: @mamiyaroid (instant/film) @5redpandas (personal)

Twitter: @adalenakavanagh

Original photography prints: adalenakavanagh.bigcartel.com

-Adalena Kavanagh

Xpro2

Xpro2

Until next time…