(on an adventure with my friend Bradley, Orange County, CA)

So far as I can remember, I’ve never written an ode to this season. I’ve never been its most ardent follower, its peppiest cheerleader, its Number One Fan. I mean, summer is great and all, but give me spring or autumn any day, with more moderate temperatures and those beautiful tones and colors. You know, colors that are more than just of the bright sun-shiny primary variety.

Yes, summer did often mean amzing things like camp when I was younger – and thus an escape from the small-town mean girls who made the other nine months of the year seem an eternity. Or, in high school, the odd jobs were certainly odd, but they were often an odd sort of fun too. And my birthday is in summer! But summer? As a my favorite season? I just can’t remember a time that my heart called out for it: Summer! You! Are! The! One?

I think there’s a reason I’ve lived in Southern California on and off for nearly five years and can count the number of times I’ve been to the beach on both hands.

But oh. Summer. This summer. Has been different.

Summer is about sunshine and good times, about endless days and ice cream, about friendship and warmth. Or it’s supposed to be, right? But when things are turbulent or sad, then summer is hot and hard and frustrating. The big difference is that this summer, there’s happiness. So much happiness.

Sure, there are problems too but they don’t seem so tough when you’re standing on a beach in Laguna, with your friend Bradley and his Mamiya, taking a photo of the setting sun glinting off the choppy ocean with your cellphone so you can send it to your true love who is in San Francisco and who will be here to visit you next week.

When you’re filled with sunshine and sand and ocean water, clutching cameras lent to you and given to you, watching the sky as it turns shades of hazy pastel you never knew were possible in red, white, & blue July. The churning waves a pale silvery aqua tinged with the last baby blues and violets of the sky, a nearly improbably metallic sheen, constantly heaving in an irregular rhythm. The sun showing its last rays of gold and yellow, then suddenly deep burnt orange, the legendary sky of California, setting off rocky bluffs with palm trees and an endless ocean that travels all the way to the other side of the world. And you try to remember every detail, every moment as best you can because you can’t capture any of this perfection  because you’ve already run out of film and your phone battery is dead and you didn’t bring a digital, and you laugh and laugh, your pants soaked by sudden waves and your hair full of salt and wind.

Summer. Is love.

(with Pablo, Albany, CA)

xoxo

When I was in elementary school, I had a sticker collection that rivaled those of most of my classmates. We all vied for first place sticker collector, seeing who could out-do the others in terms of unicorns and glitter and puffiness and, occasionally, scratch-n-sniff.

And then, one day, my mom came home with the sticker that would trump them all. The sticker that became the centerpiece of my collection, the ultimate, the most desirable, the one that catapulted me to Numero Uno Sticker Star.

It had neither glitter nor unicorns, puffiness nor scent. It was simple, large, round, white, with text, and it read, very clearly:

I ♥ BOYS

Well. Every girl in my fifth grade class wanted it, you can bet on that. And I wouldn’t trade, not even for entire collections. Because when it’s right, it’s right. You don’t need bells and whistles and sparkles when you’re that totally awesome.

(Taken with a Nikon FM2)

Years passed, and the sticker collection disappeared, and with it went the beloved sticker. Of course, the sentiment stayed – I do heart boys. But along with hearting boys, I’ve grown to love something else: boys’ toys. Yes, I know, the world has changed, and women can do anything, and just ask Barbie who has had 50-some odd careers now that she is 50 and featuring some hot Botox injections in her brows.

But be honest. There may be way more women doing photography than ever before – and there may be more women into stuff like cars, too – but being a gearhead is still a kind of a sausage-fest. Yes, the ladies are getting more and more involved, but it’s the gents who are more likely to be found geeking out over some form of equipment or other at a gathering near you.

Whenever this happens – this geeking out business – I find myself wishing I could participate, and eyeing the equipment (ahem) enviously from outside the inner sanctum. Before now I haven’t felt comfortable injecting myself into any major discussions; not having much (or any) knowledge makes me feel like a Big Dumb Girl standing there Looking Pretty while the boys all talk about their toys. And y’all know that’s not how I roll.

(taken with a Hasselblad 500 C/M)

I’m both a researcher and a bit of a geek at heart, so I’ve been trying to learn more about all this incredibly cool equipment we see around us all the time. I’ve learned more, sure, but it’s also done something terrible: Now I’m the girl who wants the sticker I don’t have.

That’s the thing about equipment and toys, isn’t it? There’s just never an end to what you can get. I’m beside myself here, falling in absolute panting lust with the Hasselblad SWC (oh dear lord, the red one?) and the Leica M6 and the Rolleiflex 2.8f and the Nikon FE and the Nikon 700. And lenses? Forget it, I definitely want more lenses. Yep, you all predicted it: further down the spiral.

But shut up a second, Leah.

I know very well that it’s not the camera that makes the shot great, it’s the photographer – the equipment just enables you to do different things (if you know how to use it). Who needs all this stuff? You can do a lot with what you have, and with what you ‘re offered.

So in an effort to reel myself in – and to get real – a little while ago I decided it was time to choose a camera and work with it as much as possible. Get to know it intimately, become best friends, know exactly what it could produce when, where, why, and with what film (if I stayed with film).

(Taken with a Yashica Lynx-1000)

Luckily for me, I have a few cameras I already love. And even luckier, I have wonderful parents who have decided for this birthday to get me a camera. The budget is generous (although not so generous as to allow for a full-frame digital or a Hasselblad SWC, so unless you’re prepared to help pitch in, just forget it). So the question is: which to choose?

I mean, we all know about my love of Polaroid, and I do use a Polaroid 195 which has a decent variety of film options.  I do love 35mm, and with the Pentax K1000 and the Nikon FM2, I feel comfortable. Recently too I got a little steamy with a rangefinder for the first time, a Yashica Lynx-1000, and ooh.

And medium format – it calls me like nothing else. Borrowing that Yashica Mat 124 was just the beginning. Then came the trial on the Hasselblad 500 C/M.

But of course, there’s always the possibility I could switch it up altogether and turn to digital.

Oh, decisions! I’ll figure it out eventually.

What’s your favorite camera, and why?