the first time.

I remember the first time I realized that I loved photography, I was 15, loved Mapplethorpe, and had finally found something that I was good at.
15 years later, I still get excited every time I see the developer bring a picture to life, or the processor spit out a new image.

I remember the first time I printed a c- print that was perfectly color balanced- it took an entire semester...but the rich deep colors were one of the most satisfying things I had ever seen, and I have barely bought black and white film since.

I remember the first time I was out of school how much I missed looking and seeing...
and how I had to go back to school to learn how to see again.

I have been in a photography shop twice this week and their elevator smells strongly of stop bath and fixer...and every time I go into this elevator I both feel happy and nostalgic as well as want to just cry. How does our life get so far away from what we really want it to be.

I do not want this.
I want hands that stink like stop bath, students that have never seen the beauty of a Sally Mann image or the color of a Joel Sternfeld landscape or the complexity of a Gregory Crewdson set, and a day of art.
This is not what I want and I do not know how to change it.