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I just finished my last few sheets of Polaroid 600 film. I’d been holding off making pictures with them for some time.
Yesterday I purchased a new camera the Polaroid 300. This camera currently has plenty of readily available film stock, particularly given that fuji make a film that fits as well. So I went ahead and finished the shots in the older polaroid camera. I photographed familiar things, things that over the years I’ve come to love seeing photographed and whose appearance delights me as a photograph.
As I expected, the pictures are full of the usual Polaroid flaws, which, despite Walter Benjamin’s and John Berger’s assertions make them unique and individual objects. Which in turn makes them priceless to me. Are they worthy of further contemplation and fetishisation, I don’t know. The only given is they will deteriorate over time, granted they may outlive me, but, the colours will shift and the blemishes will grow.
Who knows maybe they’ll hang on a gallery wall one day, because I don’t feel they can be truly appreciated any other way than as small objects, decaying, slowly.
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