Welcome Back

About a year ago, I sold an old Nikon F3 that I purchased used over 10 years ago. It hadn't seen the light of day for many years; I had long forgotten how to load film, calibrate settings, etc. and frankly I needed the cash.

This old manual camera was a work horse. It helped me make a living as a freelance writer/photographer when I first moved to Denver in 1997. Thanks to my business partner at the time, Eric Grant, I learned quickly how to handle a camera, frame shots -- and yes, how to maneuver around cattle in a Northeast Colorado feedlot.

I loved being behind that camera, where every moment challenged me to picture what was interesting, beautiful, meaningful before me. I literally felt and moved using another part of my brain. With this camera, I checked-out and checked-in at the same time.

Selling that camera was difficult. I felt a profound appreciation for it; it had opened many doors, both inside and outside of myself. I felt ashamed of myself in letting it go. Its sale was a painful example of my lack of attention to my creative self. In the name of more "practical," lucrative pursuits, I had let go of one of my greatest gifts.

This past Sunday (after plenty of research, of course) I bought an Olympus E-420 digital SLR camera: the smallest SLR on the market today, a relatively inexpensive, popular and well-regarded piece of equipment. I understand the appeal of portable, less expensive point-and-shoot cameras, but I needed a camera that I could engage, and one that would engage me. I wanted a camera I could build a relationship with, in a way. A tool to help me show how I feel about what I see. I wanted to go to Bali and beyond with a real camera in my hands again.

I've been playing with the E-420 over the past few days. Welcome back playful, creative self... thank you for the joy you bring me.