Sliding Time Shifting Memory
A personal exploration of photography, journal making, & the pursuit of inspiration
by Jennifer Krampe
My trip out West was the trip that almost didn’t happen. I’d convinced
myself that I’d never be able to get enough time off of work just to go galavanting for a month. But by the forces that be, primarily my truly generous employer, and encouragement from my parents, I was able
to live a month of life changing events, immerse myself in creating images, and surround myself with other truly adventurous spirits. The trip, now deemed a personal journey, became a culmination of maturity in my work, self exploration, and a self realization that photography is a huge part of my personal drive. Photography, sketching, art creation in general, along with a hefty dose of critique from my peers opened a vein for my voice, which had previously been left untapped. I had finally confronted myself and my craft and unveiled the perfect outlet to release
my creative wanderings.
The following book exemplifies another time tested passion of mine-journaling. There’s something strange, intimidating, and intriguing about opening a brand new journal, in this case a black leather Moleskine filled with blank manila pages. The empty space yearns to be filled. Every
night I made a concerted effort to take time to be quiet. I let the day’s endeavors melt through my mind and onto the creamy journal pages. Journaling also occurred en route. Sometimes on the top of blustery
open mountain. Sometimes sitting on a dusty shelf in a red rock canyon. Journaling allowed me to record my journey, explore new techniques, and remember the trip through different means of record keeping.
Hey All! The first time I remember being aware of photography was when I got a Fischer Price camera for my seventh birthday. It was a small bright blue plastic rectangle, with soft black plastic caps on each end (in case of an unfortunate meeting with the cement) and a bright yellow cord, just long enough to carry the camera neatly around my neck. The first image I ever made was through my neighbors’ living room screen. I was just tall enough to see my friends through the screen, and I yelled with excitement “Look at my new camera!!” I was so excited I couldn’t even wait for them to come outside. So they came to the window and I made my first image-the two neighbor girls, their upturned noses pressed against the screen, framed by the white peeling painted window frame. I haven’t stopped making images since.