One Thing Leads to Another

I have a small collection of vintage cameras, one of which is this art deco Kodak Bantam Special:

bantam special w

I started off photographing it as is, admiring its cool retro style.

Then I decided to open it up – I wasn’t sure if I ever had – and see what I could capture of the lens and its inner workings.

bantam special lens w

Once I opened the film door, I realized I could see directly through the lens.  I experimented with a few different items, until I tried one of the dried roses I haven’t yet been able to bring myself to throw away.  This led to these two sort of surreal photos:

Through a Vintage Lens w

Rose Noir w

Often, when I set out to photography one thing, I end up photographing another.  This, among so many other reasons, is what I love about photography:  the infinite possibilities of what can be found through the lens (or lenses!) of a camera.

 

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Supermarket Bouquet

supermarket bouquet

When the months get colder and the snow has covered summer’s garden, I shop for inspiration.

Inexpensive supermarket flowers make for many photos.  I could not stop taking pictures of this pretty bouquet that I picked up the other day.

They didn’t look like much, stuck in a vase.  Some of the petals were curled and withered from the plastic wrap, and a few leaves torn.  They weren’t perfect, but when I rearranged them in the bright afternoon sunlight, they made for some beautiful compositions.

Here are a few of my favourites:

These are all available in my Etsy shop as digital dowloads:

https://www.etsy.com/ca/shop/dawnblanchardphoto.

 

Flowers in the Dark

dark-rose

I bought some new house plants to replace the ones I’d killed.

Even though I know it probably will not last (if previous purchases of mini roses is any indication), I could not resist these roses. They are the colour of coral, a splash of colour in this beige season.

Besides, they make a great subject for photography.

In the Backyard

chairs

An August afternoon in my parents’ backyard is filled with laughter and conversation.

We sit below the climbing roses, on the deck my father built. The gardens surrounding us have been planted and tended by my mother. Chickadees swoop over our heads and chipmunks skitter by. These fences hold memories.

While Sunday supper warms in the oven, more memories are made.