As I worked with this capture it seemed a lack of color (or rather, a pronounced glow applied to the reflective surfaces, which results in the same thing) would be the most apropos means of bringing its art to the surface. The exception to this was the deep purple attire which, just the opposite, suggested amplified vibrancy. Another case of different parts of the capture requiring different adjustments and filters. Several layers of effects were then applied to the whole, to create uniform texture and perspective.
I studied to become a journalist about 100 years ago and in the course of this spent most of my time outside class at the student paper, reveling in the friendships and comradery there. In the course of this it was my great delight to edit one of the paper’s annual April Fool’s Day editions, which dropped the pursuit of journalistic excellence for satire and frivolity. I’ve long since lost any physical copies of this edition – a lot can happen in 100 years – but recently this edition became part of the digital archives the university has placed on-line. One of my great friends and I from this period independently took a look at it reached the same conclusions.
In my memories, this publication was one of the highlights of my life. A superb composition of biting satire and brilliant insight that illustrated, so the memory went, what a highly talented and intelligent young man I was. Surely I could have written for the National Lampoon or performed with Monte Python had I applied myself. Today I would be one of the contributors to The Daily Show or Saturday Night Live or by now the writer/director of a string of film masterpieces of the comic genre. That’s the memory. The reality is that it was SO BAD!! A banal, adolescent mess of silly and stupid teenage male fantasies expressed as imbecilic rants. It was less uncomfortable seeing it as a train wreck in the present than embarrassing to realize I’ve spent so many years thinking it was the opposite. Talk about blowing up my illusions!
On the other hand, rediscovering it now affords a certain perspective – a disconnect. An observation that has no impact in the present. Had I not carried the illusion, would the memory be replaced by regret? Would it have haunted me (and there are a few things from the past that do)? Have I been better off not knowing? Have I been freer; better able to evolve without dwelling on past mistakes? Has the illusion afforded one less demon scratching in the basement.
All my life I have had to learn to do things differently. To see the world differently.