Author: gustavovasquez

Have you ever thought you documented a moment with a camera but to only find out later that the camera you used was unloaded or malfunctioning? I have.

Have you ever been to Spring Lake or Howarth Park in Santa Rosa? I was there only a few weeks ago, on a trip for school. I brought one of my favorite cameras to photograph with because of how “easy” I feel the camera is to use. I think this idea of “easy” is my downfall. I became clumsy, I cut corners and became too relaxed. I find becoming too relaxed will bite you in the end, in terms of photography.

It must of been 30 minutes into the trip, and 20+ pictures in that I realized my camera was not actually loaded. What do you think about frame counters on a camera? My curiosity is from this fault, and this fault only. Never have I put thought into the counter of frames in a camera until now. The camera’s frame counter is stuck at 40 and has been this way since last Spring.

I was on this boat launch at Spring Lake, and a boat was heading towards the launch to dock. There were three men, beers and fishing rods. I thought it was the perfect picture, for what exactly I have no clue, but something I feel could culturally represent the area.  “Americana”

I asked the men I could photograph them while they floated my way, so they didn’t awkwardly stare. They allowed and I snapped away. Film only, no shots with my digital camera for some reason. It didn’t occur to me that newer technology was needed.

Pure photography needs pure photographic equipment, right? No distractions from LCD screens or memory cards.

After that moment, I had a thought. How many shots am I at? Haven’t I been shooting way more than this roll of film could handle? I had to of reached 36 frames already. I have had film loaded in the camera for quite some time right? Wrong.

Turning the rewind lever, to my dismay the camera was empty. Unloaded and not ready for me to take my pictures. “Leave, goodbye, sorry we aren’t open” is what I feel my camera wanted to say to me earlier. But my camera is a camera, and not a person.

For the matter of not missing a moment in time, I carry a photographic mechanism that its sole purpose is to record time and light. Even with having this habit of carrying a camera with me, I still find myself missing a moment in time.

One instance, which was also the most recent, occurred when a friend asked if I would like to go to a trip with her, a trip which I couldn’t ask about, or see where. During those moments before leaving the suite, I had the chance to take my camera. A chance I didn’t take. I asked, and she told me “If you want”. I don’t know what went through my mind at that time, If the camera was too much to carry, or that this trip would be nowhere exciting, I was wrong.

We jumped in the car, and while I laid back with my eyes closed with blindfold on, I fell asleep. I awoke to her shaking me on the shoulder and saying we were here. A dark gravel area off a road. She grabbed my hand and led me forward, through what looked like an abandoned building. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but what did was magnificent.

The Golden Gate bridge lit the area with it’s many lights and vehicles, San Francisco was lit by it’s many housings and buildings; towers in the clouds high above. A lighthouse could be heard afar and a glow streaming through the sky.

This idea came to me, something I learned about in another class. This philosophy of the Sublime. This quality of greatness, this area of aw. I felt so small, and the city so vast. I was just one part of this larger picture of life. Something that I can’t comprehend.

Sure, I won’t be able to go back and recall what I experienced with a camera, but I can’t image that night with my camera, and I don’t want to. What I found that night was special, and with a camera, I feel I would have had something between me and the sublime. That mechanical device that I use to record time and light.

The Sonoma County Bicycle Coalition organized a community group bicycle ride in the Roseland area of Santa Rosa on Sunday, and of course I was a part of it. Even though I live in Rohnert Park to attend Sonoma State, supporting a group of growing cyclists in a community is something I enjoy.

The roads were awful throughout Rohnert Park and Santa Rosa, and most weren’t bicycle friendly. At most times, we had to be cycling in the middle of the road, or on the shoulder, which were severely cracked, rubble or with parked vehicles.

The funny thing I thought about the ride was getting there. I went with a few friends from Sonoma State, and we took longer to cycle to Santa Rosa than the actual Roseland ride.

It was a great ride, but what I really want to do is to organize a bicycle ride here in Rohnert Park, and give the community a better awareness of the cyclists in Rohnert Park, specifically the students at Sonoma State.

I have to share with you all the efforts of the group 10,000 Degrees, a group that was cycling with us Sunday.

Working out of Marin county, 10,000 Degrees is a program that focuses on getting youth through high school and into a university. Mentoring is a big part of the program as well, giving youth a mentor and a role model to help them succeed.

I was in a similar program that the city of Concord has called GGI (Go Get It). A program to help youth through high school, and get them to college. Not too long ago, I helped GGI with a field trip and youth panel at Sonoma State. I organized the trip and got friends, including myself to be a part of the student panel.

After the ride, we figured to try out this new place called BREW in Santa Rosa. We heard it was bicycle friendly, so heck we gave it a shot. They are a coffee shop, with a beer tap, and serves food. Prices weren’t too bad and the food was good.The place really reminded me of a coffee shop you would see in the show Portlandia.

After lunch, we took the more scenic ride home on Petaluma Hill road back to Rohnert Park. Above is an image of Melina and Laura, both of whom are part of a group of women cyclists who are going to cycle from Santa Rosa, California to Portland, Oregon over the summer.

On Wednesday, I covered a memorial on campus (Sonoma State)for a student who passed away in his sleep recently.

It was probably both one of the most heart-warming and depressing experiences I have had. There had to be over 800 people in attendance; from family members of the deceased to friends and class mates.

Even though I never met the student who passed, there’s a bond created when covering stories like these.

Researching whom the person was, interviewing friends and relatives whose lives he was a part of, photographing loved ones in such a dark hour of their lives. After all this, understanding you won’t ever meet the person. They have passed, they no longer walk this earth with you.

Just some thoughts, and a way for me to debrief what happened last night.

Something I wrote last night

Death is unavoidable, I stand here reporting on another memorial, another death. I am unsure why I always agree with covering death.

It eats me from the inside, even when the death is of someone I never knew or met.

I don’t get to speak to him, but I get to speak to his loved ones who were there in memory.

I see everyone in this dark time during their lives and I become a part of it.

Soon, the fog consumed all that was visible. Gray was only visible, one could wonder where the sun went. The ground was muddy from the night before, and the temperature around me must of went down 10 degrees Fahrenheit in those 5 minutes of I being there. I couldn’t go any further, because what was ahead? Actually, where was ahead? Lost in fog. I couldn’t see. I had to retreat back.

Thought I should add some photographs from a recent hike and walk I had last Monday. I actually wanted to jog but because of the pack I had on my hip, I couldn’t. It kept sliding back and forth, and it wasn’t the best bag to secure my camera gear.

I went pretty late in the morning, but somehow there was still fog up the hill from where I live. It seemed to be going away, but once I climbed this horse trail, it seemed to come right back at me, as if the fog was interested in me.

Soon, when I was up there, I couldn’t see. I saw no more than 10 feet ahead of me. I knew where the trail went, but if I went I know I would be covered in mud. I could of also slipped going down on the other end. The inclined plane down is so steep, it would of been a slip and slide of me, and mud.

I’m glad I carry a camera with me, where ever I go and not just a cell phone camera. You never know what you will see when your out in the world.