Toad Lina

I run amok with a camera. Collecting vintage lenses keeps me broke–no, that’s not quite it; there’s spending money and then there’s hoarding money, but spending money is all taken up by aforementioned lenses. I live in my cinematic clown universe, meaning I make small plot-less videos–am I snobbish enough to say ‘films?’--about daily life. May I say I am half a filmmaker? A storyteller, at any rate. One of those hopeless dreamers who conflate reality with imagination. I owe my camera very much; it’s been banged and bruised and dropped, and it’s still with me, that darling little thing.

A month ago, in December, I obtained a Jupiter-3, a Soviet rangefinder lens from the 1970s. I use vintage lenses because I don’t want a pristine, clean image. I want the flaws, the haze, low contrast, sun flares, manual operation. Ultimate dreaminess; vintage lenses have personality. It wasn’t a Christmas present to myself, because I don’t believe in holidays, and I didn’t do anything to deserve a gift. Do you know, Introduction to Cinema brought my grade down? I’m not a film major.

Maybe I keep buying lenses to cheer myself up. Going home for three weeks was wretched–all my favourite people are from college. I don’t have the stamina to be at home all day. Package days are happy days. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but only because I don’t have that kind of money.