I am a Camera #14
Whenever I make an I am a Camera zine, which I do every year, I think carefully about what kind of images to include. Previous issues have been populated by peacocks, pocket watches, letterboxes and zoetrope strips, among other things. This time, it is crocodiles and alligators.
My favourite shipping containers are the MOL ones, with the alligator stepping out of a red circle with a shipping container on its shoulder. Upon close inspection, you see he has an anchor tattoo on his bicep. Though it is a rather crudely drawn logo, there is something very lifelike about MOL. He is one of those illustrations that is convincing enough for me to believe that this creature actually exists. He’s cheerful, strong, he gets the job done. It is always a good day when I see a MOL container. I look for them in the shipping container yard at Sydenham, when I go through it on the train (though it is a tough decision to look for the shipping containers on one side, or the reservoir on the other, which is another favourite place of mine). Earlier this year, on the way to the airport, the taxi, which was driving us the longest way possible, passed a train conveying three MOLs in a row. I knew that everything that was about to happen to me would be a success.
I wrote this zine over the summer and have been slowly pruning it since that time. It started out as a story about what it’s like to live in my current house, which is a 1950s fibro house, the kind I have always had a liking for. There is something fragile about fibro houses which appeals to me, and more so because since living here I have been feeling fragile too. I am not alone in my appreciation of fibro houses, I found a whole book about the subject, called “The Fibro Frontier” by Charles Pickett. For every subject, there is a book.
I love having a new interest, and the magical way that they come upon you. What’s even more interesting is trying to fit them all in together in some kind of scheme. I don’t know yet, but I think the next I am a Camera is going to be about ferns.
The zine is made up of a long story that weaves in and out of my life here and now. It is about fibro houses, love, dust storms, freight trains, the suburbs, Halloween, poodles, death, sex, talking to strangers, jelly beans, garage sales, matchboxes, and spying, among other things. It’s 44 pages long, A5, and 10 000 words long. Write to me if you are interested.