If you are of a certain age, perhaps you remember Joe Btfsplk, a comic strip character who came with a permanent black cloud over his head and brought bad luck wherever he wandered. I'm beginning to think that I got a free (unwanted) lifetime membership in the Joe Btfsplk assistance society when I bought my first digital camera. But fast forward to my fourth and current digital camera, which yet again paid a visit to the Nikon service center.
This camera is 14 months old and it's just back from its third trip this year to see the folks. Its problem this time was the same as the first time -- the little eyelids that retract to expose the lens suddenly refused to retract all the way. With the result that my photos looked like this:
During the two weeks the camera was away being fixed, I spent a lot of time wondering why this keeps happening. I never drop my camera, never take it to the beach to get sand into its innards. I don't leave it in the hot car or pile bricks on top of it. I don't drop it in puddles or leave it out in the rain.
What I do is carry it around in my pocket every day, and now I'm wondering whether the poor baby is so delicate that it needs better treatment than that. But heck, it's advertised as a "pocket camera" and you might think it could go in your pocket without being fatally injured.
Closer inspection reveals that the Nikon seems to have highly vulnerable eyelids. They're big, and they're not very firmly attached; the lightest touch makes them flutter.
By contrast, my previous camera, an Olympus, has a tiny eye, and it's recessed a bit.
Now, of course, I'm gunshy. I don't want to put my camera in a case -- I carry it while I walk, and might shoot 100 photos on a good day, and if I had to take it out and put it back into a case with each shot my walk would take twice as long. I don't want to carry it around my neck because I hate heavy things hanging on me. (And I wonder why, if the camera is so delicate, Nikon issued me a wrist strap and no case when I bought it!)
What I adore about my little camera is its portability. I like having it in my pocket at all times because you never know when you'll run across something that cries out to be documented. Especially when you travel, you want the camera handy, so you don't have to fumble in your bag as you pause in the middle of a street, inviting pickpockets or vehicular homicide. And sometimes you don't want to have the camera visible unless you're actually taking a picture. If I have to give up that portability, I'm not sure I even want to play the game.
But now I'm spooked. Maybe I just have to find one dedicated pocket and put nothing in it but the camera. Or maybe when the two-year service warranty runs out, I need to buy another camera, chosen specifically to be bulletproof. If you have advice or suggestions, I'm open to ideas.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
Vote for old ladies
I've written a couple of times recently about "Modern Quilting," a movement that seems wildly popular but difficult to define. Several of you readers commented that it seemed reminiscent of the way we discovered quilting years ago when we were young, and that perhaps Modern Quilting is just a rebranding of a familiar old product to appeal to a younger demographic.
I promised to keep you posted on developments in my quest to get a handle on Modern Quilting, and that quest entails my regular reading of a new blog/magazine called Generation Q. So Generation Q decided to have an essay contest, and I decided to enter. Today the essays came up for votes, and I thought that in the spirit of shameless political pandering, which we seem to have a lot of this summer, I would ask for your votes.
I promised to keep you posted on developments in my quest to get a handle on Modern Quilting, and that quest entails my regular reading of a new blog/magazine called Generation Q. So Generation Q decided to have an essay contest, and I decided to enter. Today the essays came up for votes, and I thought that in the spirit of shameless political pandering, which we seem to have a lot of this summer, I would ask for your votes.
Vote for old ladies! Vote for the integrity of our vision of quilting and the things we've learned over the years! Vote for the wisdom of hard knocks and the value of experience! Vote for age before beauty! Vote for the rights of the younger generation to follow in our footsteps, including thinking they invented it!
VOTE HERE -- click and leave a comment to choose Essay #3 (in case you couldn't figure it out by yourself...). You have to vote by midnight Sunday, September 4. Both you and I could be in for serious goodies if we win.
Of course we won't win. The younger people who love this movement and read this blog will outvote us. But perhaps we'll send a message, as political panderers always exhort their followers to do. And just what would that message be? Heck, I'm not sure. Remember, I'm the one having a hard time defining it.
Thank you for your vote, and I also promise to protect Social Security and Medicare.
Internet friends 1
I'm reading a good new book this week called "Triumph of the City," by Edward Glaeser. His point, to oversimplify just a bit, is that by getting people together, cities have enabled civilization to progress. But I have been thinking about some remarks he made about technology.
A 19th century British economist named Jevons was the first to note that new and more efficient technology -- in his case, more fuel-efficient steam engines -- did not reduce consumption but actually increased it. Yes, it took less fuel to get from Liverpool to London with the new technology, but it also made a lot more people decide to get there, and ship more goods. Jevons' Paradox explains, among other things, why storing your documents on a computer did not lead to the "paperless office," or why owning a fancy sewing machine means you're spending more time with your fabrics, not less.
In terms of communication, it explains why with virtually free and instantaneous internet capability, we spend more time, not less, on the internet communicating with friends, family, acquaintances and strangers. When you upgraded from dial-up internet to DSL, did you double your online time, or even more?
But now the concept gets nicer. Jevons' Complementarity Corollary, Glaeser tells us, holds that "improvements in information technology can lead to more face-to-face contact, because face time complements time spent communication electronically... All those electronic interactions are creating a more relationship-intensive world, and those relationships need both email and interpersonal contact."
This paragraph led me to reflect on how the internet, or I should say, my internet friends, have been a powerful factor in my development as a fiber artist. Some time in the late 1990s I discovered the Quiltart list, an email community that has somewhere over 2,000 people all over the world. In its heyday, the list might have had 200 messages on a busy day. For many subscribers, including me, the list was our only contact with like-minded people. We traded news and gossip about quilt shows and quilt stars. We asked for and received advice on technical problems of all sorts: how to enter shows, how to apply bindings, how to paint or dye fabric. We complained about unappreciative relatives, mean-spirited gallery owners, cheap potential buyers. We kept up with others' divorces, diseases, tragedies -- and triumphs.
And as Jevons anticipated, after we got to know one another we started wanting to get together in person. I remember one of the earliest lunches for Quiltarters at the Houston quilt show, organized by Robbi Eklow at a Chinese restaurant two blocks out the back door of the convention center. And the first cocktail party that Karey Bresenhan, the mastermind of Quilts, Inc., held for Quiltarters at the 2004 Houston show.
walking toward the hotel for Karey's cocktail party, 2004
As I look back on my internet connections, I can point fondly to three people whom I first got to know online, and only after many years got to meet in person. The first was Lisa Walton, from Sydney, Australia, whom I met at that first cocktail party of Karey's. Having talked with her there, and known her from years of online posting to the Quiltart list, I felt comfortable arranging to visit her in 2009 when I got to spend a month in Sydney with my brother. I had a wonderful day with her, met her husband, saw her studio and her outdoor dye operation, and while we talked, helped her fold hundreds of fat quarters to take to a show she was vending at.
Lisa's outdoor dye bench
Lisa's outdoor work table (it's Australia -- they work here year round)
Lisa's hand-dyed fabric, neatly folded
Hey, this has turned into quite a reminiscence. I'll have to continue in a later post. Meanwhile, maybe you can wonder about who my other two online friends were/are.
A 19th century British economist named Jevons was the first to note that new and more efficient technology -- in his case, more fuel-efficient steam engines -- did not reduce consumption but actually increased it. Yes, it took less fuel to get from Liverpool to London with the new technology, but it also made a lot more people decide to get there, and ship more goods. Jevons' Paradox explains, among other things, why storing your documents on a computer did not lead to the "paperless office," or why owning a fancy sewing machine means you're spending more time with your fabrics, not less.
In terms of communication, it explains why with virtually free and instantaneous internet capability, we spend more time, not less, on the internet communicating with friends, family, acquaintances and strangers. When you upgraded from dial-up internet to DSL, did you double your online time, or even more?
But now the concept gets nicer. Jevons' Complementarity Corollary, Glaeser tells us, holds that "improvements in information technology can lead to more face-to-face contact, because face time complements time spent communication electronically... All those electronic interactions are creating a more relationship-intensive world, and those relationships need both email and interpersonal contact."
This paragraph led me to reflect on how the internet, or I should say, my internet friends, have been a powerful factor in my development as a fiber artist. Some time in the late 1990s I discovered the Quiltart list, an email community that has somewhere over 2,000 people all over the world. In its heyday, the list might have had 200 messages on a busy day. For many subscribers, including me, the list was our only contact with like-minded people. We traded news and gossip about quilt shows and quilt stars. We asked for and received advice on technical problems of all sorts: how to enter shows, how to apply bindings, how to paint or dye fabric. We complained about unappreciative relatives, mean-spirited gallery owners, cheap potential buyers. We kept up with others' divorces, diseases, tragedies -- and triumphs.
And as Jevons anticipated, after we got to know one another we started wanting to get together in person. I remember one of the earliest lunches for Quiltarters at the Houston quilt show, organized by Robbi Eklow at a Chinese restaurant two blocks out the back door of the convention center. And the first cocktail party that Karey Bresenhan, the mastermind of Quilts, Inc., held for Quiltarters at the 2004 Houston show.
walking toward the hotel for Karey's cocktail party, 2004
As I look back on my internet connections, I can point fondly to three people whom I first got to know online, and only after many years got to meet in person. The first was Lisa Walton, from Sydney, Australia, whom I met at that first cocktail party of Karey's. Having talked with her there, and known her from years of online posting to the Quiltart list, I felt comfortable arranging to visit her in 2009 when I got to spend a month in Sydney with my brother. I had a wonderful day with her, met her husband, saw her studio and her outdoor dye operation, and while we talked, helped her fold hundreds of fat quarters to take to a show she was vending at.
Lisa's outdoor dye bench
Lisa's outdoor work table (it's Australia -- they work here year round)
Lisa's hand-dyed fabric, neatly folded
Hey, this has turned into quite a reminiscence. I'll have to continue in a later post. Meanwhile, maybe you can wonder about who my other two online friends were/are.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
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