contest

the response to the photojojo sponsored fuji instax camera contest on my blog was fantastic!  i thought it would be an easy thing to give away this great camera…i would just plug the numbers into random.org and with one click of the mouse, i would have a winner.

instant, just like the camera.

but then i started to read the comments that people left and i knew it would not be so simple.

just like i shared how i wanted to have an instant picture of gemma and her sign and her daddy

and did not want to be posting these (still un-printed) shots a week after the fact

people shared their moments.  the moments they wanted the memory instantly in their hands.

some of the comments made me laugh and some made me sentimental.  tales of long distant love affairs, heartwarming moments of children, fleeting encounters with people to never be seen again, and incredible journeys to lands were they have never even heard of photographs.   there were so many beautiful stories that were meant to be captured.  i wish i had 300 of these cameras to send off.

there were a few comments that stayed with me over the days and one in particular that would pop into my mind at random times.

i had such a clear picture in my head of a woman having a quiet moment with a box of old photographs…pulling out one of herself as a baby with her mother who has since died…  the words from jill have formed such an emotional image in my mind of a scene  i guess i could relate to.

Today I was going thru a box of pictures from my parents when I was little. The instant pictures are the best ones, aren’t they? They are the ones that capture the timeless moments. Those are the ones you grab out of the box first…. the ones that I know touched my mother’s hands right as the moment passed. I don’t even know who took the camera to shoot my favorite picture in the box. A little Me — yellow bathing suit, big belly, sunburned nose, huge smile. My beautiful Mother — red 2 piece bathing suit, crazy red hat, cigarette in one hand, baby oil in the other, huge smile. That’s us… me and my mother. I want that same moment, that same picture with my daughter. My mother is gone. I love that picture more than I can say. I’d love the camera.

jill has reminded me with her story that i have black and white polaroids of my father…somewhere.  he was so very sick at the time of that visit…the visit where i took those polaroids.  it was too hard for me to photograph him when he was so sick, but i did so to show him the “new” black and white polaroid film that i could use in my sx-70.  that is what i told myself at the time as just photographing him because he was dying was too much for me to bear.   my father held the instant prints and i remember him smiling up at me from his chair.  i saved those prints in a box, but have not had the strength to look at them since.  photography was one of our strongest connections and to hold something that i know he actually held…that memory feels like holding hands with a ghost.

so, i want to thank each and everyone of you who left a comment.  i read them all.  i feel so honored to be able to share your stories.  i will be doing more contests in the future and some may just be a random draw and some will be hand picked from the entries.  i really want to encourage people to play.

i want to also thank, photojojo.com for donating such a generous gift.  photojojo is not only an amazing resource for photographers, a great online store and an awesome craft book…photojojo is good people.

congratulations, jill.  you did not leave any details when you commented, so please email me!  i hope you make some beautiful memories for your daughter to hold.

and i don’t know if you blog, but i sure would love to see that photo of you and your mother.

{ 27 comments }