I usually smile when I’m taking a photo. It’s sort of this awkward combination of squinting my eye to focus and just blunt concentration that turns my face into a joker-esque facade for just a moment. A moment, and only a second really, of something is captured when the camera cli-cli-clicks.
Although often I don’t remember the moment, I can’t deny that I was there, or partaking in the scene being captured. I picked up a few rolls yesterday, and one of them was almost three years old. It was a blur of both emotional and logical recollection when I scanned over the images, trying to place the importance/insignificance of the moments that I chose to press my finger on the shutter.
The first couple are from Mika’s cottage one summer around 2008 and the last couple are from far in Northern Ontario, near Wawa, around the same time. We’d played to visitors to the national park and hung out in the staff wing which was called the SCAB. We slept in that Teepee on the shore of Lake Superior; even in August the water was a bone chilling temperature.