You don't learn from going to school, and you don't learn from books. You can gain a little insight from those resources if you are fortunate, but the best teacher you'll ever have, where photography is concerned, is your own camera. I learned this by getting to know one of my favorite cameras (the SX-70) very, very well... so well, in fact, that I thought I was going to stop making pictures when Polaroid films were discontinued. Once I gave some consideration to the situation, I realized that, though I had devoted considerable passion and even devotion to Polaroid photography, there were sure to be many lessons that I'd carry forward into my next endeavor. Thanks to help and encouragement of my friend Chris, I was able to hasten my decision to buy a Hasselblad, a camera to which, I'm sure, I'll be quite suited. After all, it makes a lot of noisy fuss, just like the SX-70, to let me know the picture has been taken!

One valuable lesson I learned by observing my SX-70 is that true Photography happens in camera. You make numerous choices before you make a picture which lead to the kind of photograph that will result. Careful observation and trial and error allow you to study your results over time. Because I could not control the aperture of the SX-70, I quickly got to know what lighting conditions produced what results with my Time-Zero film (I tried to learn quickly so as not to waste film). I also learned that I am a fan of the wide open aperture, which, with gentle lighting, produces a dreamy, poetic feeling of which I am fond.

letting the light do it's own magic...

Another thing that my experience with Polaroid photography taught me is that you have to be resourceful. You need be be able to invent ways to make things work when you are forced to do. Once my supply of my beloved Time-Zero started to dwindle, I began reaching for the 600 film that I had once abhorred for its ocher color. I found that underexposed in the SX-70, the result could be fantastic if I only placed the developing Polaroid in the freezer when the image first began to emerge.

difficult to believe that this is 600 film...

Is it Time-Zero worthy? Asking myself this question every time I went to make a Time-Zero photograph taught me to learn that you must love what you are photographing in order for it to be good. What I love are instances of light. If I don't love the atmosphere produced by the light, the picture isn't worth taking.

the poetry in light...

Occasionally, because I was so fearful of wasting film, I would cease taking chances, but I learned that if you see it right, it's worth taking the risk! This is true, even if you must make some mistakes!

take chances, make mistakes!

Finally, just when you think you understand the way things work, you have to be open to surprises... for they, too, are part of the plan! My exquisitely expired Time-Zero films have surprised me time and time again.

singular results

Even though I have a refrigerator full of Polaroid films, once in a while I feel discouraged about soon not having access to these media, but I'll always have what my Polaroid cameras and films have taught be about light, listening, and color. It's true... there will never be another blue, but the blueness will be retold, reinvented, and remembered.

there will never be another blue...