The Polaroid SX-70 has always felt like a small piece of magic to me. Introduced in the 1970s, its folding design, manual focus, and distinctive Time-Zero film created images with a richness and depth unlike any other instant camera.

My love for the SX-70 began in the early 1990s, when I found one at a yard sale and was immediately drawn to the simplicity of working with a single lens, one film type, and mostly natural light.

At the time, I was working as a freelance commercial wardrobe stylist, and I began taking an SX-70 — along with stacks of film — on nearly every job. Between shoots, I would wander and photograph whatever caught my eye: fleeting light, reflections, textures, quiet corners, and ordinary moments that might otherwise go unnoticed.

Each evening I would spread the new Polaroids across a hotel room table or kitchen counter, amazed by the richness and emotion held within those small squares of emulsion. Over time, recurring themes emerged — the way light touched simple forms, how color could hold memory, and how stillness could exist within a fast-paced creative life.

Those photographs gradually became a large personal archive. Years later, a curator friend encouraged me to exhibit some of the originals, and more recently I began carefully scanning and enlarging the collection, preserving the distinctive warmth and character of the original SX-70 film.

fotolure grew out of that archive. After years of keeping much of this work close, I’m ready to share it more widely. Selected images are now available as fine art prints, allowing these small, intimate photographs to live at a new scale and in new places.