Conquering Fears Through Photography

Well, it’s two weeks short of a year since I last posted new photos to the Wheelchair Kamikaze photo gallery. A long time between photo posts, so long, in fact, that relatively new readers might not even be aware of the specifics behind the WK photo gallery. For those who don’t know the photo gallery “back story”, here's a quick summation.

Back in my healthy days I was an avid amateur photographer, always snapping away with a variety of cameras. When I got sick my right side quickly weakened, making shooting photographs (along with a whole bunch of other things) increasingly difficult. I tried to keep at it, but within a few years, much to my great frustration, I was forced to set my cameras aside as shooting with them simply became too difficult, and quite frankly I didn’t have the stomach to come up with workarounds.

Several years passed with my never touching a camera, though I missed photography intensely, until my creeping paralysis crept to the point that my mobility needs required the assistance of a mechanical monster, my wheelchair. Once the beast became part of the family, my wife started bugging me to figure out a way to attach a camera to the thing, so that I could use my good hand to make photographs using a wheelchair mounted camera. Being an obstinate putz I steadfastly resisted her suggestions, although she did manage to wheedle out of me some ideas of how I might go about setting up such a rig. My wife's Christmas present to me that year was, as you might’ve guessed, all the components needed to make a wheelchair mounted camera a reality: a new digital camera with a flip out viewing screen and a little tripod with flexible legs that I could wrap securely around the arm of the wheelchair (to see the setup, click here. Though the gear has changed in the intervening years, the basic setup remains the same.)

Soon enough I was back in business, zooming around the city (mostly Central Park), a half paralyzed shutterbug on wheels. The resulting photos turned out surprisingly well, and in addition to shooting stills I also made some videos. Thus, the Wheelchair Kamikaze blog was born, more a place to showcase my photos and videos than the repository of written rants and raves that it has evolved into over the years.

So, why haven’t I posted any new photos in almost a year? The short answer is that I haven’t been doing much in the photographic department these last 12 months. The longer answer is that I haven't been doing much in the photographic department these last 12 months because my disease has continued to progress (as progressive diseases are wont to do), and my “good” left side is no longer so terrific, forcing me to question whether I could still manage certain activities that I had previously taken for granted.

For the first eight or so years after my diagnosis, my left side really wasn’t effected by the disease all that much, but the last year and a half or so have seen it noticeably and increasingly diminished. As it is with all of the insults dished out by the disease, the physical impacts of these new challenges have been accompanied by psychological hurdles as well. If I’m honest with myself the truth is that I haven’t shot any photos, or even processed a bunch that I shot last summer, because I was afraid to find out that I could no longer do so. Manipulating the wheelchair mounted camera takes a good bit of fiddling with dials and buttons and such, and processing photos through Photoshop, even for the minimal amount of image enhancements that I usually do, requires a fair amount of precise mouse work. Rather than try and fail, and then have to deal with the wreckage of that unpleasant new reality, I semi-consciously decided to not try at all, and thus avoid the situation altogether. In short, fear of failure took the wind out of my photographic sails, compounding the physical limitations imposed by the disease with some of my own making.

Lately, though, I’ve been feeling that old familiar yen, at least in part spurred on by the nicer weather as winter turned to spring. I’ve also grown more resigned to the fact that my left side is getting increasingly wonky, and sick of capitulating to the fear that I might no longer be able to do something (photography) that is so tied into my sense of self. The disease is crippling enough, and I resolved that I wouldn’t allow my fears to cripple me further. So, I grudgingly opened up Photoshop and started working on some of the photos that had been occupying my hard drive untouched for the last year or so.

Lo and behold, I found that I can still put Photoshop through its paces, certainly not as quickly and efficiently as before, and only for a couple of hours at a time before my hand becomes unresponsive enough to start freaking me out, but, dammit, once I shook the rust off the results weren’t all that bad. Spurred on by this minor triumph, I bit the bullet and took the camera on a couple of sojourns to Central Park, where I discovered that I can still manage the required twisting and pushing of camera and lens controls. Not for the unlimited hours upon hours as I had in the past, but I was able to shoot almost nonstop for about two hours, long enough to make it a very pleasant and productive afternoon. Sure, my arm and hand felt made of flimsy rubber bands on the way home, but the victorious feeling I felt more than made up for the increased danger I was to pedestrians, since my ability to manipulate the wheelchair joystick was noticeably diminished. I managed to make it home without taking out anybody’s shins or kneecaps, and not only had I been able to take some pretty good photos, but I’d stood up to a big fear and kicked it in the nuts.

So, I now know that I can still shoot photos and run them through Photoshop, at least for today and tomorrow, and for fuck knows how much longer. I’ll just have to take it as it comes. I’ve got some “outside the box” treatment options yet to try, some of which I’ve already written about on this blog. Given the state of the world, with lunatics shooting up parades, movie theaters, and grammar schools, with weather patterns seemingly more severe and deadly by the week, and with a geopolitical landscape that appears increasingly on the brink of widespread violent chaos, it could be that MS is the least of my worries. As somebody much wiser than I once said, “life is uncertain, eat dessert first.”

With that, I present to you my latest batch of photos, long overdue. About half were taken recently, but all have been processed within the last month or so. Most were taken with my wheelchair mounted camera, but a few were shot with an iPhone with a close-up lens attached, including the photos of the dragonfly and the ant in the flower. Though it’s a little tricky, I can handle the iPhone camera with my one clumsy hand, and I’m always surprised at the capabilities of that little device.

I’d welcome all feedback on the photos, positive and negative. Which ones do you like, and which ones suck? Please don’t hold back because of my “conquering fear” thing. Negative feedback is just as helpful as positive, maybe more so. Your honesty will be much appreciated…

Click on the thumbnail image for a larger version.

Some New Photos, With a Twist

I've added some new photos to the Wheelchair Kamikaze photo gallery, but these are a little bit different than any of the other shots found there. Back before my neurologic difficulties robbed me of the ability to hold a camera to my eye (click here to see my wheelchair mounted camera set up), I loved taking photos with antique and toy cameras. Because of the decidedly low-tech quality of the optics used in many of these cameras, the images they produced had a surreal quality to them, almost like snapshots taken from a long-ago dream. I used to scour eBay listings, flea markets, and yard sales for cheap relics that were still in working order, knowing that each one would have its own unique but endearing quirks. Of course, none of these cameras were digital, and all used traditional film, which further makes them impossible for me to now use, as loading film with my one wonky but still working hand would be quite the achievement.

Within two years of my diagnosis I was no longer able to hold a camera to my eye and had to sadly give up my yen for photography. I bitterly thought my photo days were over, until my disease progressed to the point where I needed a wheelchair. Once I got the electric beast, and embraced the freedom it allowed me, my wife insisted that I try to figure out a way to rig a camera to the chair, and pressed the point home by getting me a suitable camera and camera mounting equipment one Christmas. I was quite resistant to the idea at first, I think because I was afraid the results would not be up to snuff, and would only serve as evidence of just how much I'd lost to my illness. After a couple of goes at it, though, I found that the photos I took in my new, somewhat unwieldy manner actually weren't all that bad, and realized that once again I was back in business. Of course, the antique and toy camera fetish was out, as the only cameras suitable for my new set up were high-tech digital beasties, but, as they say, any port in a storm.

Lo and behold, a couple of months ago I discovered that there were some decidedly low-tech lenses available to be mounted on my high-tech digicam. I warily ordered one, called simply the "toy camera lens" (click here), from an outfit in Hong Kong, half expecting my money to disappear into the ether. Incredibly, three days later (!) a package arrived from Asia, containing my wonderfully cheapo new lens. It's a really strange creature, with an area of sharp focus in the center, surrounded by increasingly swirly and out of focus edges. It's kind of temperamental, and I'm still sussing out the best ways to utilize its eccentric charms. There's no autofocusing the thing, you actually have to focus it by hand, an old-school exercise that I somehow find very satisfying, even though it increases immensely the complexities of trying to take a photo with only one coopertive hand.

So, presented for your perusal are the following photos, all taken with my new toy camera lens. I'd really appreciate some feedback on these, as I'm pretty sure they won't appeal to everyone, but I think some will find their dreaminess appealing, and hopefully see something striking or compelling in them. If not, you have permission to tell me I'm nuts. Honestly, I'd love to hear all opinions, good or bad, so feel free to leave comments positive or negative, as all will be valued.

Diversions

Image by al_dekleine via Flickr

I've found that Multiple Sclerosis can become an all-consuming obsession to those suffering from it. Or, to be more precise, to this person suffering from it. Between coping with the marching progression of the disease itself, keeping up with doctor’s appointments and phone consultations, dealing with insurance companies and disability issues, searching for and reading the latest and greatest in MS research news, and tracking the ever-growing conflict being waged over CCSVI, MS can commandeer not only your body and your mind, but your time as well. I'm always preaching about not letting MS define you, and I thought I'd made a pretty good effort at avoiding that trap, but it occurs to me that the pile of unanswered e-mails, the growing number of phone calls that need to be returned, the stack of books and magazines I'm always just about to get to, and the dozens of unwatched shows on my DVR (almost all about archaeology, World War II, mythical creatures, UFOs, or quantum physics) would loudly argue otherwise.

Sometimes it's imperative to just tear yourself away from the addictive gravity of the MS universe, and lose yourself in something else. Family, friends, and loved ones are always a nice distraction (I'm making a crass understatement here), and the football Giants and baseball Red Sox deserve rapt attention. I also have one other passion that I can get entirely immersed in, and it's something that Multiple Sclerosis stole from me, but then, completely unexpectedly, gave back.

Before getting sick, I spent a lot of time on photography. I caught the photo bug early in my teenage years, and then later got a degree in Film. That degree led to a career in television and video production, and when I started out in "the biz" I could very often be found with my eye pressed hard against the viewfinder of a pro video camera, shooting all kinds of cool stuff. I wound up taking video from a sensational variety of flying machines, including hot-air balloons, the Goodyear blimp (three times!), police helicopters, tiny airplanes, and even once from a vintage World War II B-17 bomber. I shot minor-league baseball games and alligators in the Everglades. As my career advanced, I moved from cameraman to video editor to producer, playing with and manipulating images all along the way. Eventually, though, I wound up being a boss, and by necessity dealt more with clients and the good people working in my department than with the images themselves.

To make up for the lack of picture taking and making in my professional life, I went back to snapping away in my private life. This was right around the time when digital photography started to really take hold, and, unlike when I was a kid, when cameras used film, which meant relying on photo processors and darkrooms, suddenly you could do everything photographic all by yourself. The magic of Photoshop puts an entire darkroom in your computer, right at your fingertips. The camera became my constant companion, and all of those years spent looking at and working with images professionally left me with a pretty good eye. I won a few online photo contests, and happily became an active amateur photographer. I've always been drawn to the past, and even in the digital age I found myself becoming fascinated with antique cameras that use good old fashioned film, and with cheap plastic toy cameras that make images that feel like they were snatched from a dream.

Here are a few photos I took back in my healthy days. The square ones were taken with toy and/or vintage cameras. Click each thumbnail for a larger image:

And then I got sick. A slight limp in my right leg soon evolved into weakness in my entire right side, which is quite inconvenient for a right-handed person. To my utter dismay, within only a few years I could no longer hold a camera to my eye, or push a shutter button. MS had stolen photography from me, and in the early years of my disease this was just about the greatest loss the disease meted out. I could still work, could still walk (with increasing difficulty), and, with adjustments, could still live a semblance of my old life. I even learned how to use chopsticks left-handed. But, although I tried, taking photos soon proved to be impossible. Attempting to operate the controls of a camera while framing a shot one-handed was extremely difficult, especially since that one hand was very often frantically reaching for something to grab, and eventually was needed to hold a cane.

Thanks to the aggressiveness of my disease, a shiny new set of wheels soon became part of my life. Not the Porsche roadster I'd always dreamed of, but a Quantum Q6000Z power wheelchair. After some initial trepidation, I became quite fond of the electric beast, which suddenly expanded the size of my world from my 850 ft.² apartment to the 20 or so miles the chair will go until the batteries give out. I know it's almost verboten to say, but I actually found driving the thing to be, well, fun. I could zoom past pedestrians on city streets, explore the many nooks and crannies of Central Park, and cruise along the trail next to the Hudson. Pretty good, and a big improvement over the pathetic few painful steps I had been reduced to.

My wife Karen soon started suggesting that I figure out a way to rig a camera up to the chair, so that I could start taking pictures again. Being grumpy and contrarian, I always muttered one excuse or another about why such a scheme would never work. I think I was afraid that even if I could figure out how to secure a camera to the chair, the results would suck, and that would make me feel worse than not ever having tried, proving that despite my best efforts I was somehow diminished. Still, Karen kept up the pressure, and I finally gave her the go-ahead to get me the required equipment for Christmas (click here to see set up). After a few test runs, I started noticing that the results weren't all that bad. They were somehow different than my old shots, which were more off-the-cuff and improvisational, but shooting from the chair required me to work within a set of some pretty stringent restrictions, and doing so forced some creative discipline on me.

Almost inevitably, I think the MS experience also changed the nature of my shots. Certainly not in any conscious way, but I now seem to take photos of that are a little bit more contemplative, and some have a kind of turbulent tranquility to them. More thought is put into each shot, an attempt to inject some beauty into a scarred existence.

Though I got very sick this past September, and was out of action until the beginning of November, I did manage to get to Central Park a few times later in the month to capture some autumn scenes. Here are a few of them, along with a couple that I shot this summer (including one of Karen, who gets full blame for this madness). Hope you like them, I'll be adding some of them to the Wheelchair Kamikaze photo gallery on the left side of the page. Click thumbnail for a larger image: