Growing up Catholic, nothing was stranger or more horrifying than confession. I’m sure there are people who find this sacrament cleansing. I’ve heard people speak of a feeling of starting with a “blank slate” (no, that’s not where my name comes from) after confessing their sins. But for myself, at the age of seven (!), it was an ordeal. We were also told we had it easy; early Christians apparently had to confess in front of the entire congregation, and were assigned onerous penance to boot. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep me from almost having a panic attack before my first confession. There was nothing I could do; whispering your sins into a priest’s ear was mandatory if you were to unlock the achievement of first communion. And in very Catholic Poland, saying “no, thanks!” to your communion was not an option.
I’m not really sure why I’m spilling all this. These experiences were long enough ago that they don’t resonate much anymore. I didn’t, for example, have traumatic flashbacks while shooting this particular confession booth. I guess as I sat down to post this, it was the only thing I could think to share. Think of it as a bit of StoryTime with your ol’ Uncle Tab. And just like your real uncle, I’ll be sure to have a rocks glass of scotch handy as I pull you up onto my lap, and perhaps touch you inappropriately. Shit. Excuse me, I’ve got to run to confession now.
There may be photos of us wearing these…
…being the careless arrangement of information carefully arrayed.
Oh hey! How’s it goin’, eh? I’m new here…and am the token Canadian in the group.
I met the members of The Sublime League of the Holy Lens in February, when I ventured down to Detroit…I was told I was crazy for meeting two complete strangers in an abandoned factory in one of the most dangerous cities in a foreign country. Well, I’m still here, so take that, nay-sayers!
…being what can be had with a stage, an open skylight, and an adequately collapsed upright piano.
A bit of German Expressionism is good for the soul.
A century left behind with one last agonal breath.
To dust you shall return; bound for death.
Intact windows are keeping the ivy at bay. Soon it won’t matter since not only the windows will be gone, but the ivy along with them.
In other news you may have noticed things look a little different around here. We’re making some changes since it looks like we’ll have another person joining us fairly soon. Eventually the plan is to fully change the blog name over to “The Sublime League of the Holy Lens” or some such, because we’re fancy like that. One would think my screen name would have been the cautionary tale of naming things in a tongue-in-cheek manner but sometimes you just can’t help yourself, or take yourself too seriously. Either way we’ll see how things develop over the coming months and I’ll update in advance of changes so we don’t lose anyone in the shuffle.
I often take shots of the same subject framed in slightly different ways, like any decent photographer does. Usually one stands out as the clear winner and that is the one you all get to see. In this case though, well, you’re getting both because I cannot decide.