I am enthralled with film. There’s a quality to it that’s tangible, gripping. As with the last batch of film shots I shared with you, this group hasn’t been edited or touched up in any way. They’re just as they came from the lab, as they were recorded on the film.

In the digital world, so much is temporal. There’s an impermanence to what you produce. How many of us have spent hours working on a document, a paper, a presentation, only to have it lost when the technology we’re using malfunctions? In high school, when I worked on the school paper, we used some of the oldest computers you’ve ever had the displeasure to work with. They crashed on a near-daily basis, and we had to save things constantly in the hopes that we could deter the technological gremlins that plagued us and somehow preserve our work. And when that didn’t work, we started over from scratch.

With physical creations – a handwritten letter, a photograph exposed on a thin strip of film, a novel stitched between two covers – there’s a sort of foreverness to them. (Yes, I am making up words.) Now of course, all things will crumble given enough time. But I feel that when you can touch something, hold it in your hand, it’s more profoundly striking than any digital file can ever be.

I hope you all are well and enjoying the first days of November.