In my house there’s a cardboard box filled to the brim with old photographs. Most don’t mean much – mostly pictures of old pets and landscape. The more I dig through the more I find and the older the photo, the more character it tends to have. When I find a picture of me riding a bike at 7, I can see that blur that comes with old film. I can’t tell if I love that blur because it cries out vintage or because it cries out nostalgia. Either way, the flaw of a 90’s camera creates unintentional charm.
Left over film strips are littered across the bottom of the box. If I hold them up to the light, I can just scarcely make out the photos that were meant to be developed. Pieces of life trapped in a root beer colored rectangle.
That’s what inspired me to edit the image above. On the surface, those three sunsets are nothing more than the trial and error of grabbing the perfect photograph (which unfortunately, didn’t happen). I was just about to hit delete, but as I looked at the different coloring of a quickly fading scene, I was brought back in time. There’s too much shadow, the edges are blurred, the color is off, but there’s character to it. Each one looked like it belonged in the box.
Three images holding a different point in the sun’s time before it vanished for the night. Something that may not be beautiful at first, but over time allows rose tinted memories.