pleasant times happen in boulder/lafayette consequential to the participation of pleasant people.
people like Teresita have made-in-the-80's themed birthdays, and folks like Jenna and Santiago are there. also, Ben plays disc golf. there is a hazard in the middle of the course. the hazard is a granary on the lafayette register of historic places. i think that it must be out of bounds.
"why do you like to take photos?"
i wasn't quite prepared to be asked that. something about the question felt dissonant. i definitely didn't have an answer to it.
i started by mumbling something evasive, but felt like i was being a lame human being by doing so. so i fumbled around a bit for some sort of response and said something like "uh... i guess it's because it sometimes feels like something that i'm good at.
i don't know why it was such a paralyzing question. maybe it's because i didn't feel like i was good at photography when i was asked the question. maybe it's because i didn't feel like i like to take photos when i was asked the question (notwithstanding my having taken 80 or 100 so far). it's been a long time since i felt any sort of genuine love for taking photos, and i'm not positive that i've ever felt some sort of ecstatic need to take photos, as if i were being carried along by the spirit or what have you. i guess i just try to take good photos when i feel like i can, and i guess i don't often really feel willing to sacrifice anything for the sake of a good photo except perhaps a little bit of social grace, which isn't really one of my strengths to begin with.
on saturday i went hiking in the wild basin area with a few friends. it was beautiful and people were doing something that aborbed their attention a bit, so i figured i'd try to take some photos. maybe some of them are interesting or beautiful or something to that effect.
A few weeks ago Melanie and i went up to a nice quiet spot near gold hill and slept in hammocks. We took sunset photos and made a fire on which to cook dinner. We reclined in our respective hammocks and read books. There were stars and mountains and the moon.
Light changes so quickly in the morning and in the evening. A moment of red light blazed behind Mount Toll. We set our cameras on our tripods and photographed it. Then it was gone. We stood on an outcropping and gazed over the valley in twilight. Our fire was sometimes large and it was sometimes small.
once upon a time i entertained the notion of pursuing a career in photography. it was 2005, maybe early 2006. i hadn't really done much photography, but i had done enough and studied enough to feel like maybe it was a thing that i could do. but i also couldn't really imagine myself as the type of person who would be particularly skilled at photography per se. instead, i imagined that i would succeed in photography by going to remote places and by having unique cultural experiences and by taking photos that were, if not excellent, at least better than the photos that the average other person would take. clearly i didn't know much about the world of careers in photography, but i felt like i was first and foremost interested in exploration and adventure-type activities--rock climbing, long-distance backpacking, and things of that nature--and i had enough interest in photography to consider making something of it.
i'm better at photography than at rock climbing or long distance backpacking. i'm maybe even still better at photography than at linguistics, although i'm not sure how to compare those apples and oranges. in any case, i've had a much harder imagining remote places that i want to trek to and exotic anthropological situations i want to put myself in for several years. i've become a lot more comfortable photographing in a lot more genres and styles. but i've also put myself in fewer or fewer situations that are conducive to making good photographs. when i have been in situations conducive to making good photographs, i have seldom slowed down enough to create photographs. so i find myself in a situation in which i try to craft photographs when conditions are unfavorable, and in which i only really shoot snapshots when conditions are favorable.
i did a bit of hiking with Melanie this weekend. on friday night we climbed la plata peak. we got back to my car at just before midnight, drove a few hours, got a few hours of sleep, and then climbed mount columbia on saturday. the la plata peak hike in particular had me in beautiful places at beautiful times of day. we reached the summit ridge as sunset light poked intermittent holes through clouds in a beautiful mountain range. people aren't often on the summits of 14,000 foot mountains in the sawatch range at sunset, but we were. but also, we were in a rush. so i took a few snapshots with very little mind paid to composition and carried on. as seen below, the snapshots turned out alright. but i have the feeling that i could have done much better if i had taken serious time to create photographs rather than just click off snapshots.
then again, if i had taken serious time to create photographs, we wouldn't have been able to summit la plata peak that night, and that was our objective. what is the most remarkable to me about truly excellent photographers is their ability to balance their art with the activities that they are involved in. they are able to be fully engaged in strenuous activities and to devote energy to crafting photographs. i've swung from one side of the activity/photography spectrum to the other, and back again. when i started photography, being there was all that i really had. now that i've devoted a few years to improving my craft, i need to be more intentional about being there. and to make use of craft when i'm there.
here are a few photos from the summit ridge on la plata, as well as a shot of melanie stepping onto the summit of columbia.
these are photos that i took in uganda.
i'm caught up on photos from back in america. i don't want to get dreadfully behind on those, as i have done at other times. so i'm only going to post photos from uganda at times when i'm caught up on posting current photos.
i'll mostly only post photos that i didn't post from uganda, although there will be a few repeats.
i'm going to meet with my advisor tomorrow. it will be my first meeting with him since i got back. i don't have a fieldwork narrative to tell him. The Dying Language Research Narrative is a thing, and is the subject of my still merely conceptual blog post "other linguists", which could conceivably actually end up as the introduction to an academic paper, except that i don't think people typically publish about how they fail where other linguists succeed. That caveat, of course, is dependent upon a certain way of evaluating the success/failure parameter, but discussion of the prevailing evaluation strategies of this parameter would clearly be at the center of "other linguists". in any case, though--if i don't have a narrative for my advisor, i probably don't have a narrative for my blog, either.
i went to uganda to study the nyang'i language. nyang'i is essentially an extinct language. a few words loiter in the crustier corners of a few old men's brains. perhaps there are women who remember some, also, but the people i spoke to all steadfastly insisted that only those few men remembered anything. the most words loiter in Komol's brain. the corners of Komol's brain aren't nearly so crusty as the corners of some other folks' brains. Komol lives 12 miles from karenga, the nearest place that can host a foreigner. i lived in that place and commuted to Komol's village--first by hitching rides on other people's motorbikes, and then by riding my own motorbike. In the two weeks that it took to get ahold of my motorbike, i had a lot of time to kill in karenga. i played a little bit of soccer and i tried to get a Humans of Karamoja project going.
Humans of Karamoja did ok, but ultimately fizzled. i never managed to find the right way to ask questions that got insightful answers, which is the decisive quality of Humans of New York. Interactions went something like:
me: "can you tell me about the happiest moment in your life?"
them: "what are you saying?"
me: "uh... can you tell me about a time when you were really happy?"
them: "i like farming."
additionally, i wasn't in uganda for photography. as mentioned, i was there to add my tale to The Dying Language Research Narrative. the awkwardness of being around town (a very very small town, mind you) with a camera was more of a social drain than i wanted to deal with.
here are a few photos from the early days. the photo above the text, a repeat from when i was in uganda, is of wildfires through a papaya grove in kitgum, a large town about 100 miles west of karenga. below are a shot of the lorry driver who took me from kitgum to karenga, three photos from a soccer match i sometimes participated in and sometimes watched, and a prospective Humans of Karamoja shot that i never had a caption for.
i ate posho and beans almost exclusively for four or five months at the beginning of this year. in the afternoons i would make tea and snack on some sort of soul-restoring treat--some leftover chapati, or maybe some sandwich cookies that i had brought back on my last visit to the big city (be it gulu or kitgum or kampala). it wasn't like snacking back home. there was no overwhelming multiplicity of options. there was no way to run to the store and pick up whatever i didn't have that sounded good. i had one option, perhaps two, and it was rationed. the time was set apart for the special purpose of refreshing my body and mind. it was costly and life-giving.
i typically went to mass on sundays when i was in karenga. as i am not catholic, i didn't take communion. i didn't think of it as such at the time, but afternoon tea took on almost a sacramental role. as mentioned above, it was soul-restoring, a treat, set apart, special, refreshing, and life-giving. there was a weight to it--perhaps it could even be called holy.
i delight in the options available to me now that i'm back in the states. i brought peanut-butter stuffed pretzels and dried apricots on a hike on monday. i occasionally may or may not have quantities of ice cream in my freezer that could be measured in gallons. chocolate. everywhere. it's all very nice. but i overeat fairly often, and there isn't anything that i eat that feels distinctly unique or set apart, even if it's something that i don't eat very often.
there are endless options that somebody else did the work to create. i can eat them at any time. freedom and unbounded options limit my sense of anticipation. my limited sense of anticipation limits my imagination--perhaps not necessarily, but at least in matter of present fact. i would very much like to supplement the trite casual snacks of plenty with the creative holy feasts of simplicity.
Ben Tyler lit a pipe that i gave him. Melanie Shaffer, Jennifer Campbell, Nicole Hiller, Jonathan Hiller, Summer Webb, and i hiked the devils thumb loop in the indian peaks wilderness. my parents and sister came and we stalked deer, crawling belly-to-earth through the brush of betasso preserve. Melanie and Summer and i hiked up longs peak.
