This was going to be a story about my 21st birthday.
It was going to be a tale of the glorious weekend when my years would accumulate enough to turn my vertical New Jersey license horizontal, allowing me to loiter inside Atlantic City casinos without getting kicked out or order that strawberry daiquiri I've always been curious about.
Alas, this is not a post about my birthday, at least in those senses. Instead, what began as such became a chronicle of the weekend when two photographers came together to, perhaps accidentally, document every last second of their time together.
I had been looking forward to my big sister coming to visit for weeks. For awhile it was iffy; too much snow and too much work threatened to postpone the celebration I looked forward to. Despite the odds, she showed up this previous Saturday with four film cameras and one digital in tow.
The weekend as I remember it was a lot of fun; we spent the morning hanging out with my boyfriend, wandered into a Northampton sushi restaurant with a friend, went to Amherst Brewing company for a beer sampler, and explored the streets and shops of Amherst.
The pictures I took don't quite reflect the weekend I remember; in the grand majority of the 250 I shot, my sister is holding a camera or setting up for a photo. Some people argue that a photographer is never truly in the moment, always seeing life through the lens rather than the eyes. Having lived a weekend like this, where cameras were always present but always an afterthought, I can't say I agree. Observing through a lens didn't disconnect me from the situation at hand, but brought me closer to the people I was spending that valuable time with.