In college I had the opportunity to minor in photography, and it was awesome. I learned about the history of photography, about the great photographers and of course how to develop 35mm film and make prints. Working in a darkroom for a few hours surrounded by smelly chemicals, a dim red light and light sensitive paper is actually quite soothing. After a while, the timing, steps and procedure become second nature and a sort of rhythm takes hold, and time begins to speed up. Or so it seems.
I quickly developed a keen eye and appreciation for the nuances of working with traditional photography. Things such as film grain, the slightly uneven edge of the negative, the feel of true photographic paper, burning and dodging by hand and all the various slight imperfections and tactile qualities that accompany traditional photography became part of the process of picture making.
After graduation, when I no longer had easy access to a darkroom my picture making went fully digital. I purchased a bottom tier digital SLR and it was great. Amazing. I no longer had to develop film or spend hours in the darkroom. Going digital does have it perks, and I am really proud of many of the images I have created with my digital camera.
However, after a few years, something began to lack for me with my digital camera. My camera was still in working order, my pictures were in focus and properly exposed, but something was missing. They began to feel too perfect, too pristine. There was very little margin for the “happy accidents” to occur anymore.
I knew I had to go back to the traditional roots of photography. Instead of picking up my old 35mm, I decided to do something more low-fi. I began amassing a collection of relatively cheap toy plastic cameras. The Holga is one of those cameras. It’s all plastic, even the lens, its known for its light leaks, and awesome square images on medium format 120 film.
I quickly realized this imperfect way of taking pictures is what I craved. Too long had I dabbled in the digital world, my mind needed something more. And I’m not alone in this thinking. There is a whole new generation of film cameras being made for people who still appreciate it.
For those of you who decide to dabble with film and can accept not seeing your most recent picture pop-up behind your camera, you’ll soon realize that sometimes it’s the little unforeseen imperfections that make something much more beautiful and unique.
Image from Nothing Relevant.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
I love my purple Holga. I love settling in with a fresh set of prints to see what kinda of “happy accidents” show up on the film.
Have you played yet with any of the plastic-camera apps for your smart phone?
Great stuff Mike. I too loved the whole process. It was great to see images emerge in the developing trays, almost like magic. I’ll have to check out some of those cool photos sometime.