A Special Announcement

As a part of my ongoing effort to make my blog less chronology and more personal story, I'm now going to interject a piece that has nothing to do with continuing the story where I left it. To allay your fears, however, I assure you that I will pick up both The Grand Finale and Andalusia where I left them in later posts. Right now, I would like to talk about my Holga.

I have spent several years pining for this camera, ever since my Uncle Terry purchased one for my Aunt Shelley and she brought it to Tampa. Must've been the summer of '07. My beloved happened upon me as I was beginning my picture-taking renaissance and for a year prior had put up with my endlessly extolling the virtues of this plastic photography wonderment from the sweatshops of China. It is a medium-format camera whose manufacture probably cost a tiny fraction of what I ended up paying for it here in Barcelona, but once I had found the Lomo store in our new hometown, I was destined to own one. Sarah practically begged me to buy it so she wouldn't have to hear me spew forth about it any longer.

Holgas are notable not for their quality or the quality of the pictures they take but for their utter lack thereof. Everything in this camera save for the film and the flash bulb is plastic. And leaky (as in lets in a lot of light from places that are not the lens itself). It's basically a toy, albeit one used by hipsters who have driven up the price to levels comparable to very low-end digital point-and-shoots.

But oh, the pictures! I don't know exactly how to describe them, but they have renewed my appreciation for photography to the point where I now want to dust off the film cameras that Sarah brought with her so I can shoot the way the craft was begun. The Holga's pictures are warm and vignetted (that's the distortion you see in the corners) and vibrant in a way that only post-production in Photoshop seems to be able to reproduce in my digital photos. I love them. I love the Holga. I love all those poor children in China who slaved away at making my Holga. (This is hopefully a bit of humor; I do hope Holgas are not produced in hellish sweatshops deep in the bowels of the People's Republic and I try not to support these practices through my purchases, although that is becoming increasingly difficult these days. Anyhow, Holga, here's hoping you're a fair trade item.)

I think I've gushed enough about an item for one post. I'll spare you any more flowery words. I'll give you flowery pictures instead. Enjoy and VIVA ANALOG!