Natalie Behring

Victor, Idaho

While de-junking my office a while back I came across a Canon Powershot G9 in a dusty forgotten box. I bought this camera in 2007 on the advice of an AP photographer who had successfully photographed hard news stories with it. I remember being excited that rather than being a typical point-and-shoot, it had settings like an SLR. I

bought one and was immediately disappointed. The images were so grainy, in an ugly digital way. It was not a nimble camera, and changing the settings while shooting was nearly impossible. It was cast aside and forgotten for more than a decade.

When I excavated it out of the geological layer of my 30s my first thought was to send it to the thrift store with a pile of spandex workout clothes. Luckily, it was found next to the battery charger. On a lark, I charged it to see if it even worked. It did. Suddenly, the photos I once rejected looked fantastic. I adored the questionable quality of the images and the randomness of the shutter. The camera was so small and unassuming, no one was alarmed by this cute little amateur machine. I could take it anywhere and pop it out on a whim.

I became curious about other point-and-shoots and would check my local thrift store to add to my collection. I logged on to eBay. I developed a tiny bit of a hoarding problem. I fell in love with cameras that made terrible, wonderful images. It's embarrassing to admit, I never realized the impact the voice a camera had on the photo it was making.

There images are all made with terrible cameras and the photographic experiment continues to this day.