from a letter to Jason
That little lens is dying. I knew when I got it so cheap from the blackmarketeer that its days were numbered. Scratches on the coating & great divots in the glass from a sharp fall circa 1985. I gave it my own fall earlier this year in Marin — fell from the height of a pretty girl’s waist — hardly any velocity at all, you’d think. The Japanese made these things out of steel in the late 70s, I always forget — camera landed face down & that little lens shot thru the body of my Canon like a torpedo. The camera died on the spot (2002, 3,700 USD) and the lens showed no damage (1977, 175 USD).
Now I can hear a rattling inside the barrel. One of the glass elements is coming out of place — god knows what took it so long. The center of the frame swirls now like an Ensor canvas and there’s no way to predict where the focus will fall.
This isn’t the lens I take on jobs — this is the lens that looks at my life. Am I cutting my nose to spite my metaphor? Is an ersatz swing/tilt rig really what I need? Don’t I already obscure enough?
This is the letter I’m writing instead of working on my website. I can’t finish this carrot cake either. First time in my life I’ve
turned down cream cheese frosting. I’ll have them wrap it for you. Stand by. m