A Eulogy

Camera Morte is a legend. For the world it became a mythic symbol of the eternal, evolving digital.

But we have no words to describe the myth and the legend. Most of us gathered here today, knew only the old digital camera – a functioning, trustworthy, predictable image capturing device. Those early images were pleasing, true, in their own right, as accurate depictions of scenes and loved ones.

Our memories of Camera Morte remain alive, not only in shadow on the screen or as a consistent early 2000s piece of the electronic. No. The ghost-like photos it creates actually live on two external hard drives and are backed-up on a few DVD’s and in the cloud. A selection of the images are showcased in a print publication, Camera Morte: Neighborhood Apocalypse. What some may have thought of as a decline in functionality, we saw as a beautiful, almost paranormal expression of the natural aging process of the medium. A ripening. A curing.

For us, Camera Morte was a devoted and loyal camera, a colleague constantly reaching for focus. It was a member of our family. It is difficult to accept the fact that its zest for light and dark has been ended by a dreadful lack of information on its screen and memory card.

It had a luminous quality, especially toward the end–a combination of magenta, cool greens and sometimes salmon colors–to set it apart and yet make everyone wish to be a part of it, to share in the childish overexposure of highlights and sunshine, which was so weird and yet so vibrant.

We hope its alleged death will stir sympathy and understanding for a sensitive, semi-functioning digital camera — a machine who brings curiosity and pleasure, even a little disturbance, at least to my little corner of the world.

We cannot say goodbye, but instead, au revoir. For the shelf to which it has gone, we will all someday be shelved.