POLAROID memories

The title of this post is almost deceptive because I really don't have many memories of Polaroid cameras. There are two of them in this house, one belonged to my grandparents, the other to my mother. My grandmother used to send us photos of her dog. And I have two photos that were taken at the Sear's store when they bought the camera. It's obvious that the clerk was giving them a spiel and then took the shots. Neither of them are smiling. In fact, they look less than pleased, but hey...my grandfather bought the camera. 

I never had much luck with Polaroids. The photos just didn't have the clarity I wanted. I do now wish I'd played with them more. Now that Polaroid no longer makes film it's a bit late to be crying about it. Perhaps if I'd read all of the tech stuff on this pamphlet my photos would have looked like something more than people inside Vaseline jars.

I don't know what year this pamphlet is from, but it's most likely the 60s. It's possible it was in the camera bag when we brought the camera west after my grandparents died. Then again, maybe it was in a box of film my folks bought to try out the camera. I have no idea. But to those with fond memories of Polaroid this is for you.

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Oh, and the little old lady in the left column who has been there purposely for months...Polaroid.

Ahhhhhhh...THE SWEET LIFE

I'll admit my view of the world has been tainted by movies. Those are the images of romance I keep stored away in the filing cabinet I call my brain. There are certain movies the logical side of me says are silly, but I fall for them each time. Wishful thinking even if reality would never match what I see on the screen. It's all just storytelling, it doesn't have to be real.

Apparently one of the people in this photo felt the same. Night out on the town in Rome sometime in the late 50s to mid-60s. Most likely a tour group that had an arranged night to see the Trevi Fountain after dark. Me thinks the caption is a bit off. I don't believe Ernie is the one on the far right. Okay, maybe I'm wrong. This is the fountain that starred in Three Coins in the Fountain AND La Dolce Vita so maybe the fellow is named Dottie. Who am I to question what I see written before me.

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So I sit here working on a book in French I can't read dreaming about being in Italy. Not sure if I'd rather be in the movie Three Coins in the Fountain or La Dolce Vita so I'll post a clip from each. Whichever mood I fancy from moment to moment. Makes sense to me. It's one of those days when only my mind can leave my reality.

Her name should have been DIXIE

So what's the story with these two? Do these people look happy? Are they carefree travelers? I'll leave that up to you, but I can tell you each time I look at it I make up a new story.

The car was licensed in "Heart of Dixie"Alabama. I'm thinking they're probably drinking out of Dixie Cups. Do you think if she'd been named Dixie she would have gotten a bit more respect from him other than being thought of as an arm rest on a lumpy sofa? I'm sorry, but it's just so disheartening to see her lean into it as if she's used to this pose. 

The photo is small and when I first looked at it I didn't even notice she was a piece of furniture. They just looked like very ordinary people who'd stopped by the side of the road on a Sunday drive. Perhaps they stopped at one of the springs you used to find alongside two lane roads. My maternal grandfather was great at knowing where all of those were. He was a country boy and was convinced spring water, even alongside a highway, was the best. A pipe coming out of the side of a hill with water coming out of it was always worth a stop. So we always carried at least one cup in the car. I remember we had a collapsable metal one. It's around the house somewhere. We also had little plastic cups that stacked inside each other getting smaller and smaller like a nested matroushka doll. I now have one of those in my car...just in case I see a pipe coming out of a hillside...with runoff.

Anyway, here we have this, dare I say it, odd couple. And the thing I always conveniently forget is that they weren't alone. There was at least one other person in that car...the photographer. So there were at least 3 of them out for a drive. When they all got back in the car were they cheerful, rested from their stop, looking forward to the rest of the day? Leaves a lot of unanswered questions. Maybe in this case that's a good thing.

INSTANT FUN almost

 

Raise your hand if your first camera was a Kodak Instamatic. No, not necessarily the first camera you ever used, but the first camera that WAS yours. For me it was my trusty little Instamatic, as shown here in this ad from 1964. 

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I can still remember it in its black and yellow Kodak box. My folks bought it for me at the Navy Exchange. Up until then I'd used various Brownies that had belonged to my mom. But this one was all mine. Of course my folks bought the film and paid for the processing so I was very cautious with what I took shots of. But this little camera went on many vacations, photographed many friends, and even made it to a few rock concerts, where I managed to take really nice flash shots of the back of the head of the person in front of me.

I had one of the originals that required little flash bulbs, but my friend had one with a flash cube. I still have the mental image of her licking the bottom of that cube before putting it in place on the top of the camera. Not sure where she learned that trick. Not sure I remember licking the little flash bulbs mine used. Maybe it was just something she enjoyed doing. I do know we tried to push those little cameras far beyond what they were capable of doing. And she took some damned interesting shots by putting a faceted stone in front of the lens. The Mad Hatter at a Be-In was the one I remember the most.

Unfortunately my little camera doesn't look so great now. It's in a drawer, still in the leather case I had for it, but parts look rusted. And to my dismay I find that there is a roll of film still in it. That film has to date back to at least the 70s. I would love to see what's on it. Perhaps photos of my mom and dad that I would give anything to see. Most likely the film is simply too far gone to even show anything and I doubt I could find anyone to process it. I also have an unopened box of film for the little gem. All stuff to just put up on a shelf now for fond memories. That's what vernacular photographs are all about. Our memories and those of others. My camera is tattered but not lost.

CELEBRATE THE 4TH

Celebrate our nations birthday by getting dressed up, going down to the basement, hang up Old Glory, and then have a rousing game of...

PING!...

PONG! 

As usual, click on either image to see them larger.

Without KODAK...

Kodak has been there in the background for most of our lives. Sure you might have used a different brand camera, but if you were buying film you most likely bought Kodak. And if it wasn't for Kodak we wouldn't be collecting vernacular photographs. They made commonplace events a little more exciting. 

Here's a Kodak advertisement from the July 1918 The Delineator magazine. The copy reads:

The Kodak Album

All the little kings and queens of childhood's realm command your Kodak—command it to keep their picture story. Pictures of them and by them, pictures of their friends and their pranks—pictures that breathe the very joy and frankness of childhood. Such is the intimate picture story that makes the Kodak Album the most cherished book in all the house.

And picture taking is very simple now. Kodak has made it so.

Ask your dealer.

EASTMAN KODAK COMPANY, Rochester, N.Y., The Kodak City

And now I scour the flea markets and estate sales for these albums, hoping to find moments from another person's life captured by Kodak. And it's always fun when I find a piece of Kodak ephemera. It just makes more sense to put it on this site than my ephemera site. It sort of helps to tie the madness of collecting together.

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A NODDER named Lizzie

I don't actually know this woman's name. I'm calling her Lizzie. She could be a Lizzie or an Edna or a Betty or.... But what she is, if I may be unkind for a moment, is odd looking in this photo. She looks like some seriously bad Photoshopping. Either that or she's a nodder doll. The head, when touched, just bobs up and down in a continuous headache inducing movement. Put a hat on her with a large feather coming out the top and I'm sure she made gentleman caller's eyes cross. I swear I did nothing to this photo. It's a small photo and no, the head is not glued on. That's all her. Cameras don't lie, do they? No special effects. Just very disconcerting. 

Up a LAZY RIVER in the noonday sun

The clock is about to strike 12 and I feel as if I've been nailed to this chair for at least a week. Mental escape is all I get as long as the jobs keep piling in. I'm not complaining. It's good to have work and it could all dry up just as soon as these jobs are over. But I'm missing summer. I'm missing sitting in the shade and doing nothing but sitting with my eyes closed and listening to summer.

Just as there are certain films I always want to see in the summer, certain books to read, there are also certain songs. Hoagy Carmichael's Up a Lazy River starts up and I can't stop it. It repeats and repeats. Though I love Charmichael's version for me the best is the one done by the Mills Brothers.

So I look at this vernacular photograph, date and place unknown, and I image sitting along this little river in an Adirondacks chair, cool breeze blowing across the water every so often, something nice to drink, and then waving to these fellows as they pass by. I can hear their boat in the water, the ripples slowly coming ashore, and the faint sound of their chattering as they fade off into the distance. 

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And then the song starts in my head.