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Tuesday 20 November 2012

Writing, Memory and the Weird

On November 19, 2012, The Brantford Writers' Circle welcomed Ellen Jaffe to The Station House in Brantford to speak. The topic was memory and writing, and we were to bring (or have in mind) a photograph, which we then wrote about, and shared. The photos were varied, the writing even more so. Here is mine:

You hate this photo: you say it's your least-flattering angle. When you look at it you count your chins. The unforgiving flash etches the deepening lines of your eyes and your mouth.

But I want to know what the hell are you wearing? It was the 70's, you say.

Such an awkward angle: your chin elongated, your nostrils humongous, your expression distracted by a frown for the camera. The lens cover, it turned out, was off. The slight pressure of your finger captured your question forever.

You snatch the photo from me. I hate this photo, you say, but you jam it back into the album, where it joins the thumb shots and camera straps, more nostrils and the inside of someone's purse.

We are laughing. It is funny, but these are the photos we keep. Not the monuments and landscapes, but the comedy. The jokes.

The ridiculous.

There's an alarming number of these in our family albums.
Why not give it a go? Choose a photo, give yourself a fifteen-minute time limit, and see what happens. I'd love to read what you write. Post me a link, include it below, or post it on my Facebook page here.

2 comments:

  1. Now days we've had edited this one, hit the delete key before we'd even downloaded it to the computer. Certainly not printed it. While we capture more these days, these moments are gone. Captured are the (well focused) mistakes and goof-ups of the subject. Gone are the goof-ups of the photographer him/ herself. Which is too bad. They added their own colour to the photo album. You know, you've got me thinking about a story here...

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  2. I kind of miss the surprise factor of sending a roll of film to be printed and getting them back hours (or days) later. Do you remember the delicious anticipation of going to collect your prints? It was like a birthday, or Christmas. I miss the unexpected nature of the 'oops' photo.

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