“I was born at the end of an era; when film was ending, and digital transformed itself into the standard media for how people took pictures and shared stories. My mother had this old nikon camera that I remember using when I was a young kid on trips up the coast. Trodding through neglected cottages, wild blueberry plains, and forgotten civil war forts with it around my neck, I considered myself an explorer charting newfound territories around Maine’s most privatized inlets and neglected infrastructure.
Architectural photography was an novel practice to my young mind. Thresholds, barriers, apertures, in the form of film remained inside of the canister until I chose to relive those moments. And where a handsome LCD screen is prominently displayed today out of a plastic body, this contemporary camera opened in the back to expose a plastic-like leader. The rolls of film themselves looked rather interesting. The plastic capsule was an entry point, but also an end, I learned. The viewfinder a portal into a rectilinear vision of place.
Today, the experience of these forgotten Maine gems are more conspicuous. They have maps, gates, and geotags and increasingly suppress the vulnerability of new experiences. But I believe the urge to experience simply can not be relieved for a designer. My fondest memories of the coast, have been characterized by a distinct sound when you pushed the small plastic shutter of a camera. They were the most untouched reminders to a place created by an event and event, created by a place.”
An excerpt from a school essay I wrote about events and places.