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Mr. E. posted a photo:
Catskills Hellride '09
A while back I had to make a seven hour trip to upstate New York with an arrival time of 9AM. This meant I had to leave my house at two in the morning to start the drive. Now, I have a Bipolar Disorder, see, and proper sleep is a big part of keeping my crazy in check. I'm always good about going to bed at a reasonable hour and getting at least seven hours of rest. So, anyway. I began this drive after a couple hours of sleep and did okay pretty much all through Connecticut, lower New York and Pennsylvania, tired as hell but managing to stay on the road. However once I made it through Binghamton and deep into the Catskills things began to get a little hairy. There was an incredible amount of fog so that I could only see around ten feet in front of me. No other cars around. For hours. I noticed that the road I was traveling on was called Future 86. Now, in hindsight, this sounds pretty funny. I mean, it's a road that someday might be called 86 but hasn't made that step yet. However. When my Bipolar starts acting up even simple things can start taking on quite sinister tones. The name Future 86 started to terrify me. I was getting jumpy from traversing the fogged mountains with very little sleep to keep me sane. I was listening to some album, I can't even remember what, but it started to sound very demonic. There were sounds and tones that shouldn't have been there. I tried putting on innocuous pop and rock music but the same thing was happening, the music was turning evil. I couldn't turn the music off because I didn't want to fall asleep or anything, plus I was a little afraid I might hear things still, even with the radio off. The mountains and valleys and cliffs and fog were all quite beautiful to watch as I drove, but it was a terrible dangerous mischievous and foreign type of beautiful. The landscape was talking to me. I really wanted to take a few pictures on the way to my destination, and I had a Diana that I'd borrowed from my brother-in-law in the glove compartment, but something kept me from stopping. I was worried about arriving on time, but I was also terrified of what might happen if I were to stop the car. I felt sure that something very bad would happen. I remember seeing things, as a photographer does, and thinking "oh I have to take a picture of that! I'll regret it if I don't", but I just kept on driving instead. My skin was crawling and my hands were twitching at the wheel. I just had to get where I was going in one piece. So. I arrived at my destination on time, sadly feeling quite shit all day as the terror I'd felt slowly worked back out of me. I remember, DISTINCTLY, chastising myself for not taking one single picture on the whole trip up. So that's that for months until I recently developed the roll that had been in the Diana on that trip. On the roll are these four pictures, in the fog of the Catskill mountains in the middle of the night, on a hypothetical highway, taken by...
well...
I don't know.
Mr. E. posted a photo:
Catskills Hellride '09
A while back I had to make a seven hour trip to upstate New York with an arrival time of 9AM. This meant I had to leave my house at two in the morning to start the drive. Now, I have a Bipolar Disorder, see, and proper sleep is a big part of keeping my crazy in check. I'm always good about going to bed at a reasonable hour and getting at least seven hours of rest. So, anyway. I began this drive after a couple hours of sleep and did okay pretty much all through Connecticut, lower New York and Pennsylvania, tired as hell but managing to stay on the road. However once I made it through Binghamton and deep into the Catskills things began to get a little hairy. There was an incredible amount of fog so that I could only see around ten feet in front of me. No other cars around. For hours. I noticed that the road I was traveling on was called Future 86. Now, in hindsight, this sounds pretty funny. I mean, it's a road that someday might be called 86 but hasn't made that step yet. However. When my Bipolar starts acting up even simple things can start taking on quite sinister tones. The name Future 86 started to terrify me. I was getting jumpy from traversing the fogged mountains with very little sleep to keep me sane. I was listening to some album, I can't even remember what, but it started to sound very demonic. There were sounds and tones that shouldn't have been there. I tried putting on innocuous pop and rock music but the same thing was happening, the music was turning evil. I couldn't turn the music off because I didn't want to fall asleep or anything, plus I was a little afraid I might hear things still, even with the radio off. The mountains and valleys and cliffs and fog were all quite beautiful to watch as I drove, but it was a terrible dangerous mischievous and foreign type of beautiful. The landscape was talking to me. I really wanted to take a few pictures on the way to my destination, and I had a Diana that I'd borrowed from my brother-in-law in the glove compartment, but something kept me from stopping. I was worried about arriving on time, but I was also terrified of what might happen if I were to stop the car. I felt sure that something very bad would happen. I remember seeing things, as a photographer does, and thinking "oh I have to take a picture of that! I'll regret it if I don't", but I just kept on driving instead. My skin was crawling and my hands were twitching at the wheel. I just had to get where I was going in one piece. So. I arrived at my destination on time, sadly feeling quite shit all day as the terror I'd felt slowly worked back out of me. I remember, DISTINCTLY, chastising myself for not taking one single picture on the whole trip up. So that's that for months until I recently developed the roll that had been in the Diana on that trip. On the roll are these four pictures, in the fog of the Catskill mountains in the middle of the night, on a hypothetical highway, taken by...
well...
I don't know.
Mr. E. posted a photo:
Catskills Hellride '09
A while back I had to make a seven hour trip to upstate New York with an arrival time of 9AM. This meant I had to leave my house at two in the morning to start the drive. Now, I have a Bipolar Disorder, see, and proper sleep is a big part of keeping my crazy in check. I'm always good about going to bed at a reasonable hour and getting at least seven hours of rest. So, anyway. I began this drive after a couple hours of sleep and did okay pretty much all through Connecticut, lower New York and Pennsylvania, tired as hell but managing to stay on the road. However once I made it through Binghamton and deep into the Catskills things began to get a little hairy. There was an incredible amount of fog so that I could only see around ten feet in front of me. No other cars around. For hours. I noticed that the road I was traveling on was called Future 86. Now, in hindsight, this sounds pretty funny. I mean, it's a road that someday might be called 86 but hasn't made that step yet. However. When my Bipolar starts acting up even simple things can start taking on quite sinister tones. The name Future 86 started to terrify me. I was getting jumpy from traversing the fogged mountains with very little sleep to keep me sane. I was listening to some album, I can't even remember what, but it started to sound very demonic. There were sounds and tones that shouldn't have been there. I tried putting on innocuous pop and rock music but the same thing was happening, the music was turning evil. I couldn't turn the music off because I didn't want to fall asleep or anything, plus I was a little afraid I might hear things still, even with the radio off. The mountains and valleys and cliffs and fog were all quite beautiful to watch as I drove, but it was a terrible dangerous mischievous and foreign type of beautiful. The landscape was talking to me. I really wanted to take a few pictures on the way to my destination, and I had a Diana that I'd borrowed from my brother-in-law in the glove compartment, but something kept me from stopping. I was worried about arriving on time, but I was also terrified of what might happen if I were to stop the car. I felt sure that something very bad would happen. I remember seeing things, as a photographer does, and thinking "oh I have to take a picture of that! I'll regret it if I don't", but I just kept on driving instead. My skin was crawling and my hands were twitching at the wheel. I just had to get where I was going in one piece. So. I arrived at my destination on time, sadly feeling quite shit all day as the terror I'd felt slowly worked back out of me. I remember, DISTINCTLY, chastising myself for not taking one single picture on the whole trip up. So that's that for months until I recently developed the roll that had been in the Diana on that trip. On the roll are these four pictures, in the fog of the Catskill mountains in the middle of the night, on a hypothetical highway, taken by...
well...
I don't know.
Mr. E. posted a photo:
Catskills Hellride '09
A while back I had to make a seven hour trip to upstate New York with an arrival time of 9AM. This meant I had to leave my house at two in the morning to start the drive. Now, I have a Bipolar Disorder, see, and proper sleep is a big part of keeping my crazy in check. I'm always good about going to bed at a reasonable hour and getting at least seven hours of rest. So, anyway. I began this drive after a couple hours of sleep and did okay pretty much all through Connecticut, lower New York and Pennsylvania, tired as hell but managing to stay on the road. However once I made it through Binghamton and deep into the Catskills things began to get a little hairy. There was an incredible amount of fog so that I could only see around ten feet in front of me. No other cars around. For hours. I noticed that the road I was traveling on was called Future 86. Now, in hindsight, this sounds pretty funny. I mean, it's a road that someday might be called 86 but hasn't made that step yet. However. When my Bipolar starts acting up even simple things can start taking on quite sinister tones. The name Future 86 started to terrify me. I was getting jumpy from traversing the fogged mountains with very little sleep to keep me sane. I was listening to some album, I can't even remember what, but it started to sound very demonic. There were sounds and tones that shouldn't have been there. I tried putting on innocuous pop and rock music but the same thing was happening, the music was turning evil. I couldn't turn the music off because I didn't want to fall asleep or anything, plus I was a little afraid I might hear things still, even with the radio off. The mountains and valleys and cliffs and fog were all quite beautiful to watch as I drove, but it was a terrible dangerous mischievous and foreign type of beautiful. The landscape was talking to me. I really wanted to take a few pictures on the way to my destination, and I had a Diana that I'd borrowed from my brother-in-law in the glove compartment, but something kept me from stopping. I was worried about arriving on time, but I was also terrified of what might happen if I were to stop the car. I felt sure that something very bad would happen. I remember seeing things, as a photographer does, and thinking "oh I have to take a picture of that! I'll regret it if I don't", but I just kept on driving instead. My skin was crawling and my hands were twitching at the wheel. I just had to get where I was going in one piece. So. I arrived at my destination on time, sadly feeling quite shit all day as the terror I'd felt slowly worked back out of me. I remember, DISTINCTLY, chastising myself for not taking one single picture on the whole trip up. So that's that for months until I recently developed the roll that had been in the Diana on that trip. On the roll are these four pictures, in the fog of the Catskill mountains in the middle of the night, on a hypothetical highway, taken by...
well...
I don't know.
Mr. E. posted a photo:
Mr. E. posted a photo:
Mr. E. posted a photo:
I've taken some of the tricks I've learned from fooling with my paper negatives in the darkroom and transfered them over to film development. No Photoshop needed when you just learn to play fast and loose with your chemicals. Though, also, it appears my scanner has some grime on it that adds to the overall result. Love!
Mr. E. posted a photo:
Mr. E. posted a photo:
I well and truly promise to at least TRY to find the effort to post any of these here once they're scanned, though I make no promises and most likely they are all shit anyway.
: )
