Polecat Boogie Revival


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Polecat Boogie Revival [PBR]  -  Spring, 2006  -  Ziggy's, Chattanooga, TN

I was home for spring break in my senior year at Bard College. I was wrapping up my senior photo project by then, so I just went around my hometown photographing whatever so I could burn through all the medium format film I bought for my project. I was kinda burned out on photography as well, but this gave me an opportunity not to care and just have fun. It might've been the last show I photographed for years, as I barely picked up my camera after studying photography intensely for several years in a row.

I'm kinda pissed at myself for not photographing all the amazing bands I saw in the years in which my passion for photography went dormant, but I had an opportunity to let loose and not care about breaking cameras in the crowd.

During my four years in college, I developed a belief that I was cursed w/r/t medium format cameras. 

  1. My Mamiya 645AF that I bought in high school went on the fritz and never recovered, baffling the scientific minds of all the camera technicians I took it to.

    [When it mysteriously started working again after sitting in a closet for the better part of a year, my then-girlfriend (being a bit of a prankster) decided to pull her ongoing joke where she would start driving her giant black-with-pink-flames-on-the-sides pickup truck away before her passenger could fully get in the door. I was wise to this stunt, so I jumped in and sat down. I'd forgotten that I had left my recently Lazarus-ed camera in the passenger seat, so I assed it. It stopped working.

    (Despite it not working for almost fifteen years, I can't bring myself to get rid of it. I can actually see it from where I'm sitting right now.)
  2. The Hasselblad that I got in 2005 for a personal celebration of Lee Friedlander winning the Hasselblad Prize. I decided to try to get the model that they took to the moon, but I settled for a cheap 500C when I saw one for the kind of price that could haunt you for years if you passed it up.

    Fell out of same then-girlfriend's pink-flamed truck soon after I got it. Stopped working the next day when I took it to NYC. Only camera I brought, didn't have a strap so I had to palm this non-functional Hasselblad cube all day, didn't even get one roll through it.
  3. A champagne-colored Mamiya 7II that I got during my senior year. Took it with me to visit a friend's house. Friend's dog (who was Mexican street dog that was smuggled in to the U.S. and brought to Upstate NY) was normally very nice, but had that latin fire in her heart, so she was a little unpredictable. The one time she decided to attack me, I had shouldered the Mamiya, and it slipped off. Cracked the filter, and dented it in such a way that it couldn't be removed from the lens. It stayed that way for years, until it mysteriously disappeared during my first marriage. (Ex-wife didn't take it, but I thought it might have gotten lost in the move. I think someone stole it. Or I drunkenly gave it to someone and I either was blacked out or I buried the memory out of shame and disgust with myself. I think someone took it from a shelf at a party, most likely.)

I'm proud to say the curse has lifted for the time being. No more girlfriends with trucks avec/sans pink flames on the sides. No more Mexican street dogs. No more booze, parties, or late, forgotten nights.

I do miss that champagne Mamiya, though.