Apr 7, 2009

Cameras, Cameras, Cameras

I did a little digging today and found some more cameras.

They are:

Argus 75, which was made between 1949 and 1958. Uses 620 or shaved 120 film, I guess. Hoping to try it out! I really need to start making money...

Argus 100 35mm, which is just a point and click camera. I believe it's from the late 80s. I literally can't find ANYTHING about it on the internet. (I don't think it's anything special, though.) There's also a flash and a case with it... I don't know if it ever even got used. There are some coupons along with its box that say they expired in 1988. Sheesh.

Vivitar cv35. It's PURPLE as well as TRANSLUCENT! I think this was actually my first camera that was my very own, if I'm not mistaken. Plastic, point and shoot, built-in flash, no extra parts (i.e. lens caps etc.)- perfect for a 6-ish year old girl. I found a roll of film in it, which I rolled back into its canister before removal... mostly. The darn thing was making so much noise that I couldn't tell if it was done or not. It really struggled with the film take-up. I ended up opening the camera before I'd rolled up the film all the way. Hopefully some of the old pictures are saved, if at all possible. I wonder what's on there... I guess we shall see.

Anyway, sorry for the random camera babble. It's spring and getting pretty outside again, therefore I want to take pictures again. I went to the grocery store today with my dad, so I dropped off the 3 rolls of film I had (2 that I took yesterday with dad's SLR and the one from the vivitar that I found today). Overnight processing, so hopefully I'll be able to go back and pick them up tomorrow.

I analyzed a poem in English today. Evidently, I understood the meaning exactly as the poet had meant it. (I know this because after she asked us to suggest what it meant, and I offered the only explanation of anyone in the class, our teacher pulled out a book and read the words of the poet regarding the poem.)

Ezra Pound's
"In a Station of the Metro"

The apparition of these faces of the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

(That's it. That's the entire poem. 14 words long... 20 if you count the title.)
So that was cool. I think I became the star pupil for the day. Normally my teacher kind of... well, she doesn't generally like my ideas about things and so she mostly just ignores them with a "hm" and moves on to other things. It felt pretty good to be acknowledged, weirdly enough.

Nothing else really happened. I just talked and thought a lot about cameras.

I have the perfect birthday gift idea for the boyfriend!
(Too bad his birthday is not until September...)

I deem this post long enough. Goodnight, everyone.



  1. wow, i know absolutely nothing about cameras, other than the fact mine's old, doesn't work well and eats up batteries =][i also know nothing about poetry, but we won't touch on this topic]

  2. Meh, I only know the stuff I know because I can read, haha. It says right on the front of the ones I have the types they are.

    Poetry was just a lucky guess but still nice for once. Haha.

  3. how come you have all these cameras lying about?

  4. My family is a family of picture-takers, I guess. (Although photo albums from my childhood would say otherwise...)

    I know all of the cameras that are in the house (minus maybe that weird plastic argus and the antique which was a gift) have been useful to someone in my family at some point in time. I didn't like disposable cameras, I remember that. Still don't.

  5. So you're implying that you want to sell the photos that you will take? Sounds like a plan. Good luck with that. :]

    And I don't fully understand the meaning of that poem...

  6. I am not implying that, actually? My photos are purely for my enjoyment and maybe that of other people who are interested in seeing it.

    Oh I see... no, by making money I meant I need to make money elsewhere in order to buy film for the cameras/develop. Haha. Sorry about the confusion.

    And we kind of broke it down word by word, basically Ezra pound noticed the beauty of individual faces in a crowd in the Metro in Paris, so he wanted to write a poem about it.