It all started when...
Kodak announced the end of Kodachrome--the end of an era soaked in a golden, hazy hue.
"Makes you think all the world's a sunny day," sang Paul Simon of Kodachrome.
Kodachrome super-8 film was a flickering image when projected, often soft in focus, feeling more like a dream than an exact record of past events.
When I thought of the generation before me--long hair and high tube socks--I saw them in Kodachrome home movies.
It was the end of a technology, the tipping point from analog to digital. But on a personal level, at age 36, my narrow window to have all the freedom of adulthood before the onset of responsibility had closed (college years, or maybe just one summer, or for some, a magical fleeting day).
This was an artistic opportunity to experience a perfect day spent by a mountain river, and explore the theme of memory and nostalgia.
The only problem: I'd have to rush to buy some of the very last reels of Kodak film, find a still-working super-8 camera at a thrift store, and round up a free-spirited group to go skinny dipping.