Moving is an interesting thing. A few weeks ago I decided to try and count the many moves in my since-early-childhood-thru-adulthood nomadic life and came up with thirty five, although I know I’m forgetting more than one. I am certain the number is over forty, but going with the number I could think of and including our most recent, that makes thirty six. I haven’t been on this earth that many years and framed in that context, the prospect is exhausting. But that is the hand I was dealt and have mostly enjoyed playing, and in spite of the exhaustion level involved in making our most recent move happen in an unreasonably short amount of time, I have been reminded of one of my favorite aspects of moving: the packing and unpacking. Perhaps it’s my near compulsive need for organization and categorization of all things inanimate, but the shedding of the unnecessary and fresh straightening and cleaning of the remainder is infinitely appealing.
Among the things I’ve been reorganizing are my external hard drives, although to be fair, that’s been going on since the Robot Devil II or III (I can’t remember which) crashed in the fall and taught me a lesson in how expensive file retrieval is for those inclined toward photography who go out of character for a few months and don’t back up their work on more than one hard drive. (You don’t want to know, although I can recommend a great retrieval service if you ever find yourself in that nightmare.) And with this refreshed need for all things straightened, rank and file, and a perpetual need for the shedding of nonessentials, digging through file after file, I kept coming across “throwback” images that make me smile. Then two days ago something unexpected occurred; I stumbled on three sets of images I’d stored but never edited or even so much as sorted through after shooting them. I know when they were shot and that I was slammed with work at the time to the point of just staying riding and otherwise constantly gone when not working, but to just lose entire sets? I would love to say it isn’t my style but more than once in my life I’ve stumbled onto rolls of forgotten film tucked into a negative folder here or a box of sundry art clippings there, so why on earth shouldn’t that damnable trait bleed into the digital version?
With that in mind, this and the next post will be of last year’s lost photographs, sans any sort of the usual rambling dialog and descriptors as it’s been since early last spring that these were taken. I remember the temperature and I remember the way the sun shone and I even remember that part of these I’d regretted not taking in the morning gray inbound as I tried to shoot them on the return trip at sunset under altogether different (re: worse) lighting, but I cannot give you some lovely description of that days riding. Suffice to say, I’m sure it was nice.
*** The other reason I have been digging through photosets and hard drives is because I have made official the Etsy shop from which prints of my art work can be purchased. If you happen to be a member of Etsy, please do follow my latest venture and message me if you have a shop as well so I may do the same for you in turn.