A couple of years ago, I became obsessed with lomography. During my Flickr stalking days (which still exist), I stumbled upon pictures that I thought were the coolest thing I’d ever seen. The first ones I found were of carnival/amusement park rides. The colors were vivid, yet not vivid, if that makes any sense. It looked like a brighter version of a photograph that would be in my family photo album from 1975. They were in Flickr groups called “lomography.” Dear Google, what is lomography? It’s this. It’s very similar to (maybe it’s the same as?) holga. Regardless, from the moment I saw them, I was obsessed. I tried making my own photos look similar in Photoshop, but it wasn’t the same. Note – this was before I discovered Hipstamatic and Instagram apps for the good ‘ole iPhone. That business is awesome.
Fast-forward a year. I got a gift certificate to West Elm. My husband and I strolled around the store with decorating possibilities in our head. Well, that was me. He was probably just hoping we could high-tail it out the door some time soon. He did stop and marvel at a candle with a gin and tonic scent, so maybe he was more into it than he was letting on. After looking through all the shelves and placemats and sheet sets, I saw it. The Diana Mini. West Elm sold a freaking lomo camera! A real one! Well, a mini version. BUT. WHO. CARES?! I mean, as you can see from the above picture, it’s pretty much the cutest thing ever. It’s got a flash that’s almost the same size as the camera and a long, thin plastic strap. Put them together and you look like someone taking tabloid pictures in 1940. Only more adorable.
Now, before I get to my experience using this little piece of wonderfulness, let me start out by saying that I am blind. No, not really blind. Blind in the sense that I have no “eye,” as they call it. I am eye-less. And the problem with a camera like this is definitely the non-digital aspect. Don’t get me wrong, real film is wonderful. I just haven’t used it since 1990. I remember that hopeful feeling I got going to pick up my pictures, only to find that my thumb was in half of them. Remember, lack of eye. And apparently kinda uncoordinated.
But back to my photos. I knew what I wanted to photograph the most – carnival rides. That’s a problem. I can’t stand amusement parks. The admission price alone makes my blood boil. Couple that with screaming toddlers and I’m almost at Scanners levels (I hope someone out there gets that reference). But it just so happened that my husband had family coming in from out-of-town and wanted to go to Knotts Berry Farm with their kids. Bingo bango. I technically had to go. Well, not “had to” like it was a chore. It just wasn’t my first choice of family activities. But for the first time in years, I was looking forward to it and I had a fabulous time. Well, before I went on the my first ride of the day, the biggest rollercoaster in the park, and almost threw up. Yeah, I forgot to mention another reason I hate amusement parks. I suffer from motion sickness. I say that like it’s high on the list of diseases being researched by the CDC.
Before I show you the pictures (I’m totally whetting your appetite with all my talky-talk, arent I), I’d like to admit that I learned a LOT in that first roll of film. Well, technically, not until I got the first roll back after being developed. First off, there is a thing called aperture and I had the button clicked the wrong way. Dummy. That meant that more than half of my pictures were extremely blurry. So blurry that I couldn’t pretend that I meant to do it to be artistic. So, without further ado, here are my “famous” lomo pix. I actually had one put onto a canvas and it’s currently hanging on the wall in my bedroom. I’m pretty impressed with myself.
I think my all-time favorite is this, though. It’s one in a series of four pictures of my husband posing in a tree. He’s a bit of a ham…
NOW, onto the real pictures. The ones done by people WITH eye. The ones that made me fall in love with lomo in the first place:
Lomo + my love for vintage neon signs = heart stopping.
You want a Diana Mini now, don’t you. Bam…