I am working on this project archiving old photos from theatre at UBC prductions. It feels good to have some purpose between classes other than homework and studying.
Greek man has returned to ubc pool. For some reason his supension has been lifted. There is an asian man who hates him and submits “formal” complaints against him every chance he gets. Old men need to have better things to do than trying get each other kicked out of the facility.
I have been scanning pictures and negatives to digitize them for the archival project. Holding negatives made me miss that moment after processing a roll when you unlock to funnel lid to the canister and twist the holder apart. When the film unravels and swirls. When you grab one end and the rest falls to the floor in a shiny black ribbon. When, too impatient to just let them dry, you uselessly try to decipher which pictures are best even though you won’t be able to tell until you do a contact sheet. I miss that excitement when you can just tell the roll is a good one. I miss the photo room.