It was a warm summer afternoon, a good opportunity to walk along the shoreline of Lake Winnipeg. Just up the eroded slope, Gail and Styxx (our greyhound) lounged in the yurt we had rented for a few days at Camp Morton Provincial Park. Down here, the lake was calm, gently lapping on the smooth stones at water’s edge. As I moved down the beach at a relaxed pace, out came the Polaroid for a short series of photos.
Polaroids are remarkable and frustrating, all at once. Frustrating because they take a solid fifteen minutes to reveal success or not. And, more of than not, it was not. Remarkable because, after that fifteen minutes, I am holding in the palm of my hand a fully realized, framed original print.
This lazy walk along Lake Winnipeg was the perfect pace for a Polaroid project. I could wait for the prints to slowly reveal themselves while I soaked in full sun, sank my toes into warm sand and listened to the slight whoosh of water as it washed ashore.
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