A dangerous love affair with Leica, a whole lotta Hemingway, photos from a bygone Europe, and landing on Russia's doorstep. Let’s recollect on July.

Without a doubt, this month's star of the show was my experience shooting with the Leica M11, the best camera I've ever used. Have I made a terrible mistake? Opened Pandora's box? Yes to both, probably. The Leica is exactly what I want from a camera, but at what cost? Oh, right, it's somewhere in the ballpark of $11k. Don't remind me. Absurd? Sure, but oh so sensational.

Project-wise, I put together a small set of the photos I took with the Leica, with many more to sift through. I found the colors and the depth to be standout characteristics that I find difficult to emulate with my usual camera. I'm excited about how that set turned out. Connected to that, I made an extensive post about my experience with the camera by way of a pro/con list with commentary. Both of those posts were a joy to create, probably a residual effect of my using the camera itself.

Before all that, I shared a large photo set that actually wasn't supposed to exist. On a short trip to Granada, Spain, I shot some video clips to compile into a short, but I was dissatisfied with the direction. I couldn't nail down the tone I was after, so instead, I color-graded them and shared them as stills. I quite like the way they turned out, even though it wasn't my initial intention. In terms of creative work in July, I think I kept a steady pace that I hope I can rekindle in August.

Papa Hemingway. No matter how much I take in, I fear that truly understanding Hemingway is an exercise in futility. Depending on who you ask, he was a scoundrel, a hero, an adulterer, or a genius. Scholars have interpreted his work down to the last character, so putting too much trust into one short biography, especially one written by a lifelong friend as this one was, would be foolish. Hemingway was a great writer, a man with many problems and deep pains, and still highly romanticized to this day. I find his novels compelling, at least the handful I've read, and my attempt at understanding him is primarily to understand him as an artist. This book illuminates some everyday aspects of Hemingway the man, including but not limited to his daily habits, his problems with money, and his darkest moments of depression. These things paint a picture, unveiling how his art came to be. I think that if you enjoy Hemingway's novels or find his unshakeable celebrity intriguing, this book is for you. If not, this will likely give you nothing. For me, it was yet another cautious step into the curious world of one of the greatest American novelists to ever live.

Stoner. There is nothing extraneous, nothing tedious, nothing skim-worthy about this book. It is, as far as I can tell, perfect. Stoner is about William Stoner, an unremarkable man living an unremarkable life. We follow him as he leaves his family's farm for university. We're in the room with him as his love for literature blossoms. Among limited options, we see him choose his path. His life, in small ways, pulls him down, claws at his back, and sinks him under the weight of small mistakes and interpersonal struggles. All we want is to help, but instead, we must watch. To me, Stoner is a sad book with small pleasures throughout. It speaks to existentialism, passion, and suffering. I loved it. If you enjoy fiction, give it a shot. If you enjoy the classics, you're in for a treat.

The Snows of Kilimanjaro. Yes, another Hemingway thing, but I'll make this one quick. The Papa Hemingway biography often referenced The Snows of Kilimanjaro. I'd never read it, but it got stuck in my brain, so I gave it a chance. It had plenty of the usual Hemingwayisms like pithy writing and simple, straightforward characters, but this one didn't grab me at all. I'm not the biggest short-story fan as it is, so maybe don't take my opinion too seriously. I just didn't feel invested. Maybe I'll reread it someday, along with the rest of the collection, but those are my thoughts for now. If you're new to Hemingway, I'd say there are much better places to start, like The Sun Also Rises or The Old Man and the Sea.

Pnin. Along with Stoner, Pnin (also eponymous!) was exactly what I wanted. It was everything I love about Nabokov, without the immoral protagonist and hyper-complex sidebars. Since I really want you to read this one, I’ve decided to drop the Goodreads description below. It sums everything up nicely without giving anything away.
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"Professor Timofey Pnin is a haplessly disoriented Russian émigré precariously employed on an American college campus in the 1950s. Pnin struggles to maintain his dignity through a series of comic and sad misunderstandings, all the while falling victim both to subtle academic conspiracies and to the manipulations of a deliberately unreliable narrator. Initially an almost grotesquely comic figure, Pnin gradually grows in stature by contrast with those who laugh at him. Whether taking the wrong train to deliver a lecture in a language he has not mastered or throwing a faculty party during which he learns he is losing his job, the gently preposterous hero of this enchanting novel evokes the reader’s deepest protective instinct."
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Yet another masterpiece by Vladimir Nabokov. Amazing. If you're looking for a good place to start with Nabokov, this wouldn't be a bad choice.

Photos: Nicolas Schindler

Rich like mahogany. Nostalgic but unpretentious.

Nicolas Schindler is a photographer whose work never fails to catch my eye. They look as though they’ve been printed and passed around for decades, picking up the scents of old cafes, the oils from strangers’ hands, making their way, slowly, to pass through mine. Nicolas manages to create, for lack of a better word, a timeless body of work, seemingly without trying. There’s an ease, a dreamy languor to his photos, indifferent, existing as warm snapshots of time moving slowly. To see for yourself, you can find Nicolas on Instagram. Take your time with his photos. Soak them up. I think you can spare a few minutes.

Instagram

Currently, 125 miles to the border with Russia, and things have never felt calmer. It's my second time in Tallinn, Estonia, and, after such a whirlwind in Spain, I couldn't have asked for better. The locals are a bit reserved, as is typical the farther north you go, which I like, and the weather is bliss. Most days haven't broken into the 70s, but we've had a few heatwaves that peaked in the low 80s. I can't complain. If this is what summer is like, hand over my visa. I am here to stay.

In less lovely news, Allie has been without her luggage for the entirety. That's something like 22 days, and all the while, not a peep out of AirFrance. It's a terrible misfortune for people in our position, as luggage usually suggests it's most of everything one owns, but I can't help but feel distraught for vacationers, hoping to enjoy a European holiday after two years without. One, two whole weeks without luggage or an update from the airline? What a way to ruin a trip. Hopefully next month I'll have better news on that front.

Last, for those of you who have been stuck on an indefinite waiting list for a reprint of my photobook Transmissions from Japan, while there are no plans for a reprint at this time, I’ve added a digital e-book option to my website. It's 70% less expensive than the physical book and includes every original page with all the little details. You could even use the PDF file to print the book yourself if you were so inclined! Some people might feel strange about that, but I think it would be cool. Go nuts. Hey, that's all for this month. I hope you enjoyed this issue of Recollect. If you did, or if you didn’t, let me know. Hit the black box below to send me an email with your thoughts. I’m all ears. Thank you for the support. I’ll see you next month.