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One last stop, he says. And they drive to Westside Lanes. I grew up bowling. I don’t want to bowl. It was raining. We’re not going to bowl, the circus carpet dark with gum beneath them, and he parts the curtains on the best photo booth in town. He feeds it the three dollars, Get in. They somehow share the short ridged stool. In here we have to tell each other one true thing. You first. Click. This is the best way I could think to have my arm around you. Click. Click. Click. —Brian Blanchfield, “Smalltown Lift”

One last stop, he says. And they drive to Westside Lanes. 
I grew up bowling. I don’t want to bowl. It was raining. 
We’re not going to bowl, the circus carpet dark with gum 
beneath them, and he parts the curtains on the best 
photo booth in town. He feeds it the three dollars, Get 
in. They somehow share the short ridged stool. In here 
we have to tell each other one true thing. You first. Click. 
This is the best way I could think to have my arm around you. 
Click. Click. Click.

—Brian Blanchfield, “Smalltown Lift”

(Source: theparisreview)

William Eggleston, Untitled (Memphis).

William Eggleston, Untitled (Memphis).

Katy Grannan, 1998.

Katy Grannan, 1998.

Valid photography, like humor, seems to be too serious a matter to talk about seriously. If, in a note, it can’t be defined weightily, what it is not can be stated with the utmost finality. It is not the image of Secretary Dulles descending from a plane It is not cute cats, nor touchdowns, nor nudes; motherhood; arrangements of manufacturers’ products. Under no circumstances is it anything ever anywhere near a beach. In short it is not a lie - a cliché - somebody else’s idea. It is prime vision combined with quality of feeling, no less. - Walker Evans

Tim Davis, Tashmoo Lecture at Hampshire College.