Reading these posts, and I don't mean just this thread, here, I wonder to myself whatever became of the pleasure associated with photography? Rather than of the thrill of capturing something beautiful, I read about the chores, the complex mechanics associated with doing it. Even at my advanced age I couldn't find/create the mindset within myself to spend the time and effort doing all of this stuff in order to turn something as simple as taking a photograph into a gigantic production worthy of Hollywood. Or Pinewood, for that matter; but then, I'm still in the bloody woods of one kind or another wherever I happen to find myself.
I suspect that this is really part of a different thing: that folks who once were drawn to photography might have vanished like the friendly local dino, to be replaced by others who are attracted by the science rather than the art of the thing. I've said before that were digital all that existed when I was young, I wouldn't have dreamed of becoming a photographer, never mind a professional one; I'd have hated the whole idea of it! It used to be the attraction, that visceral kick of touchy-feely that was photography, that drew me in and wouldn't let go. That first wet print coming to life in the dish... the first time I did it knowing I was getting paid for doing it, nope, my first digital print sliding out of a printer was no match for that, bears no living fond memory at all; nada, zilch, just mechanical inevitability. So friggin' sad that it's come to this, that so much, well, goodness, has been lost.
;-(
Rob C
