When a touch screen doesn't respond, it's a helpless feeling. Switch the phone off and on, of course. It's happened a few times lately and the other morning I found myself ordering an iPhone 6.
Needs must. And the billboards around town are showing stunning shots taken on iPhone 6, so this has got to be a good thing, right? And now it's here, fresh from it's snazzy white box, doing it's first charge in the hallway. Yay.
Now, if I bought a new camera, I'd still have the old one, right? But as soon as I put the new simcard in the new phone, old phone will become inert, blind, its own little tombstone.
So a moment to mourn. I'll probably feel stupid tomorrow having written this, but I feel a strange small fear that the intuitive relationship I had with my phone camera contained a magic that may evaporate.
The best way to mourn and move on is to celebrate, so I have read. For the last 3 years my constant companion has shown me magic, has helped me dare, has transformed lonely moments into vibrant totems. We together have honoured the lost and the broken, marvelled at texture and form, made a virtue of working close in and seeing the small.
And here I go into the future. A larger glossy machine. A wider, longer screen that might change the way I look and what I frame. That is less surreptitious in the hand.
Loss and gain. Let go and trust. Needs must.
Needs must. And the billboards around town are showing stunning shots taken on iPhone 6, so this has got to be a good thing, right? And now it's here, fresh from it's snazzy white box, doing it's first charge in the hallway. Yay.
Now, if I bought a new camera, I'd still have the old one, right? But as soon as I put the new simcard in the new phone, old phone will become inert, blind, its own little tombstone.
So a moment to mourn. I'll probably feel stupid tomorrow having written this, but I feel a strange small fear that the intuitive relationship I had with my phone camera contained a magic that may evaporate.
The best way to mourn and move on is to celebrate, so I have read. For the last 3 years my constant companion has shown me magic, has helped me dare, has transformed lonely moments into vibrant totems. We together have honoured the lost and the broken, marvelled at texture and form, made a virtue of working close in and seeing the small.
And here I go into the future. A larger glossy machine. A wider, longer screen that might change the way I look and what I frame. That is less surreptitious in the hand.
Loss and gain. Let go and trust. Needs must.
as good as iPhone 4 on a mid distance shot - Tate Modern
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