Afghanistan Series // Mamiya M645

And now a word from my dear husband in our segment: The Afghanistan Series.

A deployed soldier dedicates at least 15 mins of every hour to serial escapism. Everyone has their thing-- usually an item that be bought or built, like a motorcycle or house, but occasionally an activity, like rock climbing or bow hunting. These tokens are an extension-- sometimes even a caricature-- of the soldier's personality. These are the things we think about to pass the time, and the things that come to symbolize our hope for a safe return and renewed (this time successful) quest for self-actualization. I chose medium format film photography. 


Medium format film is easily twice as large as 35mm film, which means, typically, that an old medium format camera can capture more detail than even the best Nikon or Canon digital cameras. Most manufacturers stopped making new medium format film cameras in the 90s, and the cameras themselves are technologically primitive (almost all are manual focus!). But even though my original Mamiya M645 was made sometime in the 1970s, it should still produce amazing high-quality prints. 


I am not one to wake up early. The early bird can get the worm for all I care. Yet now I wake up, consistently, at 0500hrs for early sunrise photography-- when the light coming over the city paints the compound in striking orange hues. No one is around to demand that I take their picture (Afghans are very insistent on having their pictures taken).

It could be said that the object of photography is to create beautiful images, or, in my case, to capture this deployment for posterity. No; this is nothing more than a way to pass the time and remain engaged. I will continue to look for the perfect exposure, but that is meaningful only insofar as I feel closer to what Lisa is doing back home. 


When laying in the grass to take this picture of my Mamiya, I was startled by an earth-shaking explosion. The Taliban detonated a vehicle borne IED near a bus carrying locals that work on a nearby FOB, killing several. That is the thing about escapism; eventually, you are called back to reality.