The Click

The last time I shot film was in 2002.  Since then I progressed through increasing megapixels, culminating in a 12 that I tried to create lo-fi-esque photos with.  I only ever shot with the pinhole "format."  It's a special setting under the "magic filters" of the Olympus SP600-UZ.  I photochopped them to have vignetting and cross-processed like looks.  De-saturate for age and filter for texture. 

Then, I discovered lomography.  These plastic cameras that create something wholly unique.  What you see in the viewfinder is not necessarily what will come out in the print.  What you see with your own eyes may not be what comes out - light leaks and double exposures and splitzters and the dreamy look of a plastic lens capturing life.

I bought my first lomo camera (Diana Mini).  I shot my first roll (Fuji 400 exp2002).  I shot my second roll (See first roll). I ordered a 2nd camera (DIY Recesky TLR).  I built a camera (Pinhole).  I'm eying more.

After that first roll, my wife and I discussed this phenomenon and what it all meant.  Why was this more fascinating?  Why was I so engrossed?  obsessed?  And it hit me.  It came to me as if in a dream.  Call it clarity:

Film is visceral.  Film is tangible.  Digital is instant gratification.  It's pristine, glossy, hospital steralized, perfection.  It beeps when it's done.  Automatic.

The sound of a shot.  Click!  The shutter, violently thrashing within the body.  Capturing the essence.  "Taking" the picture in that it takes something - grabbing it and pulling it inside.  That sound is like magic.  It's satisfying and refreshing.  It assures me that something happened.  I don't have to look at the screen to know that the shot happened.  The click tells me so.

Gears ticking.  When you advance the film you know it's moving, working.  You hear the sprockets rolling, physically spin the wheel yourself.  Sometimes I like to slowly advance the film tick by tick just to hear it.  It's reassuring knowing that there's more on that roll of film.  The tick, a whisper in my ear - encouraging.

The anticipation.  Some people like to shake their presents before Christmas.  I quite enjoy the wait.  Not knowing what will turn out and what won't.  Thinking back, considering if I focused properly or if I left the shutter open too long.  Imagining what the images might look like.  Trying to remember what the hell I shot... 

Thank you camera.  Thank you you wonderful thing.  Thank you for allowing patience in this mad-dash, two sheets to the wind world.

New Beginnings

Many moons ago, when I was young, my friend Mark and I would go out to the local cemetery and shoot rolls of film with our fathers' old cameras.  In fact, they were the exact same cameras:  the Mamiya/Sekor 500DTL.  My father got his around the Vietnam war era and I forget when Mark's dad got his.  This was about ~2002.  We would drive out in my jeep with the wind in our hair and sneak about with hotboot flashes firing off shots.

Fast-forward to this year.  I found myself completely enamored with lomography.  I like the way the pictures look, it reminds me of how the photos Mark and I took looked.

In the beginning of my foray into this mystical art I was using an Olympus 600-UZ set to the pinhole setting.  I'd enhance the vignetting and then Photoshop the color changes to make it look cross-processed.  After a while I was playing with "multiple exposures."  And this was entertaining for me.  But... it didn't feel right.

Some time ago, maybe 5 years ago, I found myself believing that digital was this hot thing.  My wife was utilizing film at the time and we were trying to save money.  I calculated that spending a good portion of money on a digital camera would end up eventually saving money as we wouldn't pay for processing.  So, somehow I ended up with a digital camera and doing what I'm doing. 

Recently, since I've taken up the Diana Mini, my thoughts have changed.  With the Diana the film becomes a canvas on which to paint with light.  There isn't instant gratification.  I can't just shoot shoot shoot (if I'm in square format I can't, I guess.  But, if I'm in half frame on a 36 exp. roll 72 shots sounds like forever); there's thought that goes into a shot. 

So here I am, older... a little wiser maybe; realizing I made a mistake.  And this is my journey back to film.  This is my catalog of my adventures in analogue.