L&C Photography Students See Success atWood River Art Competition
November 16 2020
L&C Photography Students See Success at Wood River Art Competition November 16 2020 10:30 AM
GODFREY – The work of Lewis and Clark Community College art students is being noticed in the thriving local community art scene.Seven of the college’s Film Photography students had a total of 12 pieces accepted into the Wood River Heritage Council’s Small Works Art Competition, held Oct. 16-29 at Wood River Museum and Visitors Center.The pieces, all artistic black and white prints developed by hand in the class’ darkroom, were among the 64 works of art at the eighth annual event, which was juried by Southern Illinois University Edwardsville Art and Design Department Chair Brigham Dimick.The images presented were by students Trevor Davis, Kaleigh Grace, Chandler Herron, Morgan McGuire, Samantha McPherson, Kayla Meyers and Lexie Pulliam.
L&C Professor of Art Jeff Vaughn said it’s the largest representation L&C has ever had at the show.“I have a particularly good group of students this year,” Vaughn said. “The art was as good as I’ve ever seen at this annual exhibit, and the fact that our students did so well shows that.”McGuire’s piece, entitled “Mirror, Mirror,” placed second overall. It’s a surrealistic image of a decorative mirror McGuire says she found at a yard sale. Placed in a park gazebo in Bunker Hill,she draped lace over it until, “it looked perfect.”“Her image stood out very prominently,” Vaughn said. “It had a very layered effect that used reflection and distance to move your eyes. It’s really a beautiful, captivating image.”McGuire said photography is more than a field of study for her. It’s her passion.“I spent about three to four hours in the darkroom one day trying to make the print look as precise as possible,” she said. “I made about 15 copies of it until I was happy with the final result. I was extremely excited with how it looked after the whole process was completed.”Davis received one of five Merit Awards for his closeup image of roses he captured during a photo outing at Gordon Moore Park in Alton.“Converted to black and white film, you could precisely see the intricacies in the growth pattern of the petals,” Vaughn said of the image. “He captured the beauty and light wonderfully.”It’s the first time any L&C Art Department student has taken home an award from the Wood River Museum exhibit.Vaughn said it’s important for his students to exhibit their art in the community whenever possible.“When they’re able to go out into the world and receive feedback from people, it’s an invaluable experience,” he said. “It’s really a reward for the work they’re doing in the classroom.”McGuire said it was amazing feeling to have her work recognized in a show off campus.“This event makes me want to enter my art in more shows because this is what I love to do,” she said. “Most people think photography in general is simple, but they don't realize how much time it takes to complete the process. I love putting in all the work for something beautiful to come out of all the time spent.”She said the film photography class has helped her take work to another level.“This is a great class and Professor Vaughn is a wonderful teacher,” she said. “He helps us bring our ideas to life, and always has great advice.” To learn more about the L&C Art Department, visit www.lc.edu/program/AFA art or contact Vaughn at lvaughn@lc.edu.Text @RB to 618-202-4618 to sign up for Text Alerts from River Bender!
Saturday, November 14, 2020
Capturing memories is as close as your hand
Tags: Photography for Beginners, Taking Photos
By Jennifer M. Latzke
Thirty years
ago, taking photos and making home movies was a complicated hobby. The
equipment was expensive and even operating the consumer versions was
hard. Editing home movie footage from a VHS camcorder was not as
user-friendly as today’s computer applications have made it.
Taking
photos with actual film required patience and perseverance. You had to
wait to pick up your photos at the developers to see if you actually
captured Uncle Henry and Aunt Martha in front of the Christmas tree, or
if you captured a blurry blob.
Today, though, we have the
tools in the palms of our hands to capture memories of our loved ones,
quickly, easily, and with a few clicks, we can edit them into home
movies and digital photo albums and then share those around the world.
We can record Zoom calls and live stream special events over social
platforms.
And what do we do with this advanced technology? We take photos and videos of our pets and share ugly memes.
Come on, people. We can do better.
Do
you know what I would give to have a video of my grandmother baking
Christmas cookies in her kitchen? What I would give to hear my
grandfather’s voice on a recording telling me the story of the first
time he met my grandmother? It’s immeasurable.
Thanksgiving is a perfect
time to capture the ordinary and make it extraordinary for future
generations. Open up the audio recording app on your smartphone or
tablet, set the device on the table, and interview your grandparents
while you’re waiting on the meal. Ask your mother and your aunts their
secrets for making that stuffing recipe that’s been handed down in the
family from the old country. Take video of the family touch football
game on the front lawn, or record your dad giving the blessing before
the meal.
The technology is
there, right there at your fingertips. Your children and grandchildren
can walk you through it if you haven’t figured it out. It’s really just
that easy. And if you’re sitting there, reading this, thinking to
yourself, “what would I say?” or “I don’t like being photographed,”
please remember this isn’t about you. It’s about those who love you.
All
I have left of some of my relatives are the memories of their ordinary
moments. The way the light shining through her kitchen window would
bathe my grandma in a glow while she was peeling potatoes at the sink.
My grandfather’s laugh while he was sitting in his recliner telling my
dad and brother a story in the living room. The shrieks from my cousins
playing in the backyard. Even the sound of my aunts and my mother
catching up in the kitchen over the stove. All of those moments in time I
carry in my heart, because I didn’t have a way to carry them in my
pocket until now.
So, this holiday season, as you gather, take the time. Use the technology to capture the memories while you can.
Tomorrow’s generations will thank you.
Jennifer M. Latzke can be reached at 620-227-1807 or jlatzke@hpj.com.
These were taken with both a digital and a film camera. My primary digital camera is a Nikon D3200 and the primary film camera is a Nikon N60. Like many of you, I have more than one camera but these 2 are the ones I use most of the time. My collection also includes Minolta, Kodak, Fuji, Konica, & Pentax 35mm SLR film cameras.
Visit me on Facebook using the link below and feel free to post some of your (G-rated) pictures there.
While the photography
landscape is dominated by digital cameras and phones, film is making a
comeback. For decades, film photography was easy and cost-effective, and
the quality of photos far exceeded that of early digital cameras.
But during the 2000s digital cameras
soon surpassed their analogue rivals, and became widely adopted. Today,
the most popular cameras are smartphones, with some having four or more
cameras built-in. You can take dozens of high-resolution photos per
second and photos that move when you press on them. You can instantly
message them to friends and family, and apply digital filters and post
them to social media in seconds. What then, is so appealing about film
photography?
The limitation to 36 or fewer shots
per roll of film makes you slow down and think about your composition —
whether a photo is really worth taking. It’s easy to take for granted
‘unlimited’ photos on a digital camera, when there’s no real cost of
taking unnecessary pictures. Digital photos can be riddled with noise:
distorted and blown out pixels. Compare this to the grain in film, often
a desirable characteristic. Film can also offer an artistic advantage —
physical manipulation of film and experimentation with light and
chemicals when developing can offer endless possibilities.
Photo by George Tuli
The gear
A 35mm single-lens reflex (SLR) camera
is the best starting point. Choose a model made by one of the big
brands from the seventies: Nikon, Canon, Pentax, Olympus, or Minolta.
This will ensure good build quality at a relatively cheap price. Make
sure you choose a camera with a program mode which will help you get the
right settings for your exposure.
You can find many old film cameras on
eBay, but it’s also worth looking in charity shops or markets,
especially if you want to see and get a feel for the camera before you
buy it. Check all the mechanisms are functioning as intended — go
through all the shutter speeds and make sure the shutter opens and
closes without sticking.
When you’re choosing a lens for
starting out, 50mm is the best option. The ‘nifty fifty’ gives a similar
magnification as the human eye, so it’ll make framing your shots easy.
Whether you’re shooting portraits, landscapes, or just taking snapshots
at events, 50mm is a good starting point. Once you’ve learnt your camera
and some film photography basics, you can buy additional lenses with
shorter or longer focal lengths.
35mm film can still be bought cheaply
online from Amazon and other retailers. Film is sold at different
“speeds” or ISO numbers. Low ISO film (50-200) is suited to bright,
sunny conditions, like a trip to the beach or a day in the snow, while
high ISO film (over 400) is better for gloomy days and indoors. Kodak’s
Portra 160 film is one of my favourites, offering fine grain, natural
colours and warm skin tones.
Photo by George Tuli
Taking a photo
If the camera you chose has an
automatic mode, this will choose the exposure settings for you — the
image will be properly exposed, for the most part. Automatic mode often
makes bright objects (like the sky) too dark, and dark objects (those in
shadow) too bright. To get around this, you need to use a manual mode,
and this requires understanding of shutter speed and aperture.
Shutter speed is how long the film is
exposed to light coming in through the lens. Fast shutter speeds are
used in bright conditions, and slow shutter speeds in darker conditions.
For slower speeds (1/30 and slower) camera shake can become a problem,
so you’ll need to rest the camera on a surface or use a tripod.
The aperture controls the light let
into the lens. A wide aperture (f/1.8) lets more light into the lens
than a narrow aperture (f/16). Adjusting the aperture changes the depth
of field in your photo — how much of the frame is in focus.
Different combinations of aperture and
shutter speed are required for different types of photo. For example,
in a landscape photo you want the foreground and background to be in
focus, so you need a narrow aperture (f/11) but you’ll need to use a
slower shutter speed so the film is exposed to this lower amount of
light for longer. This will result in a properly exposed shot. Equally,
for sports you want to freeze the action, so a fast shutter speed and
wide aperture are necessary.
Many cameras come with a light meter to help you expose the shot correctly.
Photo by George Tuli
Developing your shots
Getting your film developed isn’t as
cheap as it once was. One option is making your own dark room by
blacking out the windows of your bathroom and buying the required
chemicals and equipment. In the long run, this is cheaper and can often
be fun, but it’s not always practical. When starting out, your best bet
is to post your film to a lab that will do the hard work for you.
They’ll post your negatives along with prints of your photos. You can
usually get digital copies of your photos on a CD or have them emailed
to you, to save you having to scan them in. Share this article.
As I scroll through Instagram these
days, I notice an interesting trend of film photography. Surely I am not
the only one who sees this. It seems like a lot of posts nowadays
either are taken on film or are iPhone photos edited to mimic film. This
trend can be seen in the grain, overexposed faces and dark backgrounds
of the photos. But why is this?
One could argue that digital
photography is superior to film photography in pretty much every single
way. First, you can take as many photos as you want (at least until your
device’s memory runs out). Second, the photos are much clearer —
sometimes point-and-click film cameras produce very blurry results if
the lens is out of focus. Finally, the price per photo is free (or at
least included in the cost of whatever device you’re using), whereas a
cheap film roll of 36 photos is about $5.
I have a couple of theories as to why,
despite these clear benefits of digital photos, we’re still seeing film
photos all over the place. First, the overexposure and graininess
remove facial flaws. Just like that, you can say goodbye to your
pimples. I for one always feel I look far better in film photos than
through the legendary iPhone X lens. Second, taking candid photos with a
film camera is much less awkward than using your phone because the use
of the camera clearly signals that you’re there to take a photo.
Aside from these, my more serious
theory as to why film photography has come back is that film is
nostalgic. Nostalgia is a great way to sell a product: The value is not
in the product’s utility itself but in how it makes the user feel, even
if the service is totally inferior. Film, despite its technical
inferiority, feels more real, valuable and genuine. Each photo actually
costs money, and you can’t take 100 versions of the same photo — the
picture that’s developed is what you get. On the flip side, with a
digital camera such as your iPhone, you can take as many pictures as you
want. The value of each photo is greatly decreased here, making it feel
artificial and distant. That’s what I felt, anyway, after I hopped on
the film bandwagon.
If you can, give film a try. It’s not too expensive, it’s fun and it makes for great memories! Share this article.
Expressions of civil unrest have provided many opportunities for
photographers to capture the energetic, emotional scenes which are the
byproduct of demonstrations, protests, riots, and other manifestations.
Crowds offer such a dynamic set of possibilities that I’ve even heard
some describe protests as being “cheating,” or “too easy – fish in a
barrel.”
While it’s certainly easier to find something close and interesting
to frame it is not easier to produce actually meaningful work by any
standard – if it were then every protest would be accompanied by dozens
of powerful, iconic documents. Instead, like any other genre, it
requires a huge investment of time and care to produce something that
can escape the genre – a true artifact.
We live in interesting times, and those times have offered many such
opportunities, involving masses of citizens seeking resolution and
outlets for their agenda. Over the last few years our documentary
co-operative has spent hundreds of hours in these spaces; walking,
talking, learning, and photographing, with the intent of producing a
record of testimony. We have not looked at straightforward reportage,
but rather a closer investigation into the way these protest spaces
operate.
Where many find themselves amplifying the agenda contained within
their photographs we worked towards a more sociological goal of
humanitarian observation. Many photographs within a protest space
document the physicality of signs, gestures, or performances, but in our
opinion lack nuance. We did our best to identify based on our own
values what was worth documenting on a case by case basis, moment to
moment – a photographer’s documentary vision, not necessarily a surface
level analysis.
Here, we present some of those values, along with some of our
decisions in terms of the gear and methodologies we used while
documenting protest spaces over recent months.
I am lazy when it comes to equipment. Early in the summer I remember
carrying my Leica M4-P, with my Nikon SLR and 200mm over my arm, and
realising that one of them just wasn’t making sense to me anymore. M
rangefinders are my comfort zone. They work exactly how and when I need
them to, no thought required. The SLR and 200mm was necessary for the
more “press” approach I was trialing, but did not work in my favour
either at a distance or up close.
The size and weight, combined with the way my subjects perceive it and me (in my often dark grey/black outfits) was intimidating,
and it offered more trouble than it did benefit in the added reach. The
200mm “look” can often seem a little voyeuristic, even when in crowds,
and I would prefer to have as little space both psychologically and
physically between myself and my subjects when possible.
Since that moment I’ve been working as light as possible, even
shedding my bag. As a musician I’ve hung heavy instruments around my
shoulder and neck for years, so being able to free myself from any
straps, even light-weight ones, is immensely freeing. Nothing gets in my
way now, and importantly I feel free when I slip through a
crowd, or situations where looking like anything “official” could cause
tension. I remain impartial, able to deflect interrogation from agitated
and angry protesters and police alike. I don’t look like mainstream
media with a small camera and no bag, so all that’s left to manage is my
attitude and their ego.
For any protests that I felt were likely to incur conflict I would
pair down further still, one M body and one standard lens, usually
35/50mm, with as much film in my pockets as I could manage. This is
pretty much my proven way of working best – absolute minimum, absolute
restriction, no worry or frustration or compromises: just shoot, and
occasionally run.
50mm will always win out if I’m unsure what to have with me. I’ve
shot with it almost exclusively this year – a Zeiss Planar f/2, which
seems the best balance of size and performance. I wouldn’t want faster,
as I can always push HP5+, and the weight and size quickly makes it a
hindrance compared to the payoff of any “look” I’d be achieving. This
work isn’t about the look, it’s about the content: I can fit that
content into a 50mm frame, and that’s what matters.
For a while I tried working with two bodies, my M4-P with 50mm, and
my M3 with a 90, but decided that for regular use this was overkill. I
really could do what I needed to on 50mm, I just needed to learn to
trust myself and get on with it. In thick crowds a 35mm can be useful,
but not essential, so when I carry two M’s now it’ll be with 35 and 50.
This also gives me the option to switch between bodies when I find my
film exhausted unexpectedly – it’s always best practice to keep an eye
on the frame counter, and to use any luls in action to capture some
context and still life to finish any rolls which have passed frame 30.
We decided early on as a group that in protest environments it was
the most sensible thing to work in pairs. This had a safety aspect, as
photographers are often targets for those frustrated with the way they
are represented by the mainstream media, but also worked creatively to
allow us to support each other’s ideas and perspectives while in the
field.
I often worked alongside David, and quickly became accustomed to
dodging each other whilst also avoiding projectiles like glass bottles,
traffic cones, and even flares and fireworks while working some of the
more lively manifestations. As I was shooting a touch longer at 50mm
than David was at 28mm I was able to literally watch his back in the
melees between protestors and police, whilst also being able to work
comfortably without actually having to “work around” each other. Often
we would capture the same moment, but with different details noticed,
which made for very complimentary results.
The most recent technique I’ve been experimenting with is an off
camera flash – almost the classic Gilden setup. This also allows me to
engage with my subjects with a bit more energy, encouraging me to move
in, grab a single frame, and get out of there. The entire rig on my M4-P
is manual, which means control must be incredibly precise. While the
classic 28mm Leica shooters have little trouble zone-focusing it took me
a little while to adjust to using my 50mm at 2m, stopped down, and
still having little depth of field to work with. I needed to approximate
the distances required before stepping into place.
The flash is an older model, so the recycle time is quite a while.
This encourages me to commit to a shot then follow through – no messing
around. One of my favourite successes of this method can be found on
page 44 of our debut zine, BARDO: Summer of ‘20, but this one here shows
a good technical application.
Approaching the winter I’m hoping to take this method further, so
that I can work in this style when appropriate, weave it into other
projects, and hopefully offer a distinct aesthetic in the end results.
A couple of years ago I was photographing at Notting Hill Carnival
with Simon, when a police line forced the sprawling masses to funnel
into a tightly packed street. Much like a crowd at a music festival
trying to get up close to their heroes, everybody continued pushing
harder and harder to get to the front.
Waves of people kept rolling in, and I found myself in a position I needed
to get out of – pinned up against a metal fence without an inch to
move, whilst the swells of people kept on pushing. I hated it.
I wasn’t used to this sort of situation. Panic set in, and
self-preservation immediately became the name of the game. After shoving
and squeezing, Simon and I eventually managed to get out of the main
crowd and into a car park. This was the moment that I knew I had failed.
A week or so later, with negatives scanned, I had my confirmation: not a
single noteworthy image.
This was perhaps my biggest lesson in photography so far. I was
deeply embarrassed about the way I had handled the situation, and more
to the point, I was massively disappointed with myself and the images
that I had produced (or the lack thereof).
My priority had been comfort and a perceived threat, which once dealt
with now seems petty. I had to do better. I realised that I’d thrown
away an opportunity to document an historic event, and if I was going to
go forward and make images that are truly important rather than vapid
“man walks through light” street style pictures, I had to embrace the
chaos: I had to learn to love the unexpected nature of crowd movement
and be at home in those waves.
So I studied. I looked to the great visual storytellers, and learned
how to use mayhem to form an image in layers. I realised that a single
frame didn’t need to exclusively tell one single story, but rather could
represent a myriad of converging life experiences and their
interactions with each other. I ditched the 50mm lens that had been
practically welded to my camera in favour of a little 28mm and I vowed
not to shy away or distance myself again. Humanity is up close and
personal.
Ironically, despite the Government programming and social mantra of
2020 being to “keep apart,” I found myself in situations where I had
never been closer. I spent the summer documenting from the thick of
dense crowds of protestors, documenting social transitions with my
colleagues of NEG.
In my experience the vast majority of these protests have been both
peaceful and specifically non-violent; with almost no exceptions the
police seem to have done an outstanding job of inspiring chaos,
turbulence and disorder.
At almost every protest, the heavy-handed nature of the policing has
meant that the biggest threat to me has actually come from the
authorities rather than from any rowdy rioters. We have had to become
acutely aware of police movements and tactics during demonstrations in
order to stay safe, so working in pairs as a minimum has proven
invaluable: our body of work is very much a team effort rather than that
of any individual.
Crowds can be daunting things, and while it’s said that the easiest
place to hide is in a crowd, this certainly isn’t true if you have a
camera… so don’t try. We live in a world where a camera is often
initially perceived as a weapon – “Why are you taking that photo? Who
are you selling it to?” – so being comfortable in these situations is
paramount.
Body language is communicated instantly with all those around, so
confidence (not misplaced ego) and empathy are crucial. Looking back on
that day at Notting Hill, I wonder how I may have seen things
differently if I had embraced the chaos rather than shying away from it.
I actually only shot my first roll of film in January 2020, and spent
the rest of the year embracing all that analog has to offer. I’ve been
consciously disconnecting from an autofocus, auto-exposure,
continuous-high, scatter-gun approach. Throughout 2020, protests have
presented ideal environments to exercise critical thinking, and
naturalise full manual control whilst operating in dynamic, volatile
situations.
One example burnt into my memory was during 13th June – an event soon
dubbed as the ‘Battle of Trafalgar’. We knew the significance of that
day prior to arriving, so I had brought an F2 with 28-200mm &
Minolta with 50mm. Without previous training or shock exposure I was
quickly overwhelmed with panic and too much choice during critical
moments, resulting in hesitation and underwhelming frames. On that day I
was paired with Simon – still recovering from a leg injury, and we
stayed at the outskirts, cautious not to get involved in the thick of
the action. Despite our cautious approach we found ourselves
unexpectedly caught in the middle of a clash between the two factions of
the day by St. Martin’s Church, narrowly escaping violence by
essentially hiding in a corner and timing our escape once the majority
of instigators had passed us by.
In this kind of environment we would always work in pairs in the
field, but also as a team to coordinate and share open-source, human
intelligence before, during, and after events. We assess risk, debate
contingency plans, and make informed decisions when entering volatile
spaces.
My current setup is now comparatively refined and consists of HP5 PLUS (often pushed), Nikon F2
& 50mm f/1.8, and more recently a 24mm f/2.8, to avoid complacency
and start learning a more socially involved focal length. The 24mm
requires me to be inside scenes I could usually approach from within a
few steps with a 50mm.
Sharing the same format with the others helps when it comes to
troubleshooting problems on the fly. Although Andrew, David, and Simon
are primarily rangefinder photographers they have good technical
knowledge with resolving mechanical issues, and a deep film
understanding which means advice on exposure and application. Film could
be shared although we all know to carry spare rolls and batteries, even
when we don’t expect to use them.
On one occasion David and Andrew identified an opening by King
Charles St. during a clash between police and protestors, and while the
police were occupied coordinating resources, we walked confidently
towards the flashpoint by the War Room arches unhindered.
Taking advantage of a usually restricted, and therefore extraordinary
environment, it was important to produce good work without provoking
unwanted attention from either side.
Diving in-and-out close to the line made for intense imagery and
training. News had reached that police were anticipating a surge, just
then a banana peel was thrown at me – luckily nothing more damaging
followed. A black female TSG officer was removed from the flashpoint,
singled-out by protestors as a “race traitor”. She broke down crying,
guarded by fellow officers warding away photographers from the scene. I
couldn’t get the shot out of an informed fear of reprisal.
Beyond violence, cardboard or megaphones; protest photography
manifested into the question of how best to maintain and improve clarity
of thought. In the pursuit of powerful imagery, film gave me the
limitations I needed to break my photographic crutches.
During a protest in early June
I took a glass bottle to the leg – luckily nothing serious – which for
a while affected my ability to work in the heat of any action. I
adapted to this by adopting a longer-lens approach, and working my way
around the outskirts of the activity. My results were not exciting, as I
was drawn towards more details and context, but definitely valuable
transitional work to fit into projects.
As photogenic as some of the more explosive moments of action can be
at this sort of thing, I do prefer a calmer, more clinical approach to
working: until those moments arise I can still be productive in working
towards a larger project.
Working the periphery often gives me subjects who are in some way
“outside” if only in that mental state of being there without being in
the midst of a rolling, roaring mass. Characters, details in discarded
detritus, and the ability to keep my eyes on possible issues or
situations arriving make the outskirts a great place to work.
For this approach I used my SLRs, which give a longer reach than my
rangefinders – I have a Nikon 70-300mm which was only about £40, but has
produced some of my favourite photographs to date! It’s a cheap and
versatile lens, but does require the use of faster speed films, so
either a 3200 option, or pushed 400 @ 1600 are valuable carries.
Later on in the summer, with a fully healed leg, I decided to spend
more time with a 35mm, and to work on producing layered compositions.
For this approach I spend a lot less time actively seeking out small
points of interest, and instead wait until there’s some kind of rapidly
shifting situation. I look for the potential to incorporate something
useful in the foreground, midground, and background.
My rangefinder M’s are perfect for this approach, and the 35mm and
50mm lenses are almost designed for these kinds of images. Classic
documentary work is the angle here, and a very different end result
compared with what I produce on my Nikon with a 300mm.
While in crowds I am looking at faces, then at body language, in
order to read a scene from the way someone is presenting themselves in
that space. I avoid machismo and posturing, and prefer a more intimate,
tender expression. Two people or more are much more preferable to one
alone, as a vista featuring a group dynamic has a lot more interest than
one character at a time, unless they’re especially standout.
Onlookers, or those affected by protests which block roads or perform
other acts of civil disobedience make for great subjects. There is
always a mix of curiosity and frustration as their day is interrupted.
I don’t think there’s much difference between what I search for in
these situations and what I look for while out shooting general street
photography work. The potential for strong narrative driven by humanity
is at the heart of my work, and thematic differentiation isn’t really
evident in a tangible way. I like these photographs because they fit
next to pretty much any of my others – and can be woven into many of my
projects. Share this article.
The writing is on the wall for film photography. It is a zero-sum
game with only one end result – the extinction of film photography.
Perhaps something will happen to change that but I doubt it.
There are three types of film photographers: those that have been in
the game before digital was around, those that got into shooting film in
a world after digital cameras became ubiquitous, and those that have
yet to try it but will in the future. For many young photographers,
regardless of experience, they have at least one experience of al older
photographer talking in a condescending manner towards them for shooting
film. This blows my mind.
My personal experience with an older photographer of the curmudgeon
variety was with the man who owned and ran the only film processing
place in town who would do one of two things every time I saw him. One,
he would tell me that he didn’t understand why I would shoot film – that
it made no sense and I should stop. Or, if he wasn’t actively trying to
discourage me from shooting film, he was trying to sell me more film
than I needed or sell me one of his own cameras. It was the strangest
juxtaposition. He didn’t want me to shoot film for selfish reasons but
then again, he had a particular vested interest in me to continue
shooting film and using their lab to process my film. It got to a point
where I made an effort to only visit the shop when the owner wasn’t in.
At the end of the day, this whole dynamic was by and large one of the
strangest I’ve ever had with another person. In summation, I needed his
shop to be around so I could get my film processed and he needed me to
continue being a customer because without me and others like me, he
would have been out of business. That said, he despised young film
photographers and I found his company grating. There was never a clear
winner in our exchanges, only business transactions.
Zero-Sum Game
What is a zero-sum game you ask (or maybe didn’t)? It’s simple. For
every team playing a "game," the wins are perfectly balanced with the
losses. In its simplest form, there are two teams. Whatever amount team A
starts to win by, team B starts to lose by as is how games work. In a
zero-sum game, however, what goes up must come down and the wins of team
A equate to the losses. Before it’s all said and done, all the wins
along with all of the losses sum to zero.
Within the world of film photographers, the way I think about it, is
that there are the people who have been shooting film for a while (team
A) and then those who have only most recently got into film along with
those who have yet to get into but will at some point in the future
(team B). Team A includes people who remember when the price of a Contax
T2, or Hasselblad 500CM, or Mamiya 7, or any other camera that was just
a fraction of their current price just a few years ago compared with
today’s market value. And then there’s team B, those who have only known
todays price point or will come to know it this way when they start
shooting film. The main loss for team A is obviously the stark increase
in prices for cameras. It can be frustrating, I know. As you may know
from the article on my most recent medium format acquisition, the Fujifilm GA645,
the price for that camera just a couple years ago was hundreds of
dollars less than the going rate now. I found it particularly difficult
to shell out hundreds of dollars more than someone did just two years
for the same camera. Except not for the same camera but rather a camera
two years closer to breaking.
The primary to benefit to team A is in fact, indirectly, the sudden
and substantial jump in camera and film prices – it is a sign of
increased interest in film photography as a whole. Prior to this
increased interest, in the days of nice cameras being cheaper, one film
stock after another were being discontinued. It seems strange to think
of Kodak’s TMax 3200P or Ektachrome E100
as anything but new stocks but in reality, they are more or less
re-releases of films Kodak made and discontinued years ago. The same
thing happened with Fujifilm Neopan Acros.
(The list could go on but I’ll cap it here.) Without the uptick in
popularity, prices on film cameras would have likely have remained low
but more and more film stocks would have likely been discontinued,
leaving the market more and more bare.
The Extinction of Film Photography
It is with a heavy heart that I come to terms with the finite nature
of film photography. I would not at all be surprised if within my
lifetime I see the end of new film production. It doesn’t take much to
effort to come to the conclusion that with so few cameras being made
today, the overwhelming majority of cameras in use were made decades
ago. That fact coupled with fewer and fewer businesses equipped to
repair older cameras, clearly spells out what will eventually be an end
for vintage cameras being the norm.
In addition, I would argue that much of the reason film photography
started gaining traction again was in large part because it was so
inexpensive. A Pentax K1000 was easily $50 or less and most Minolta
models were under the $50 price point. In fact, my reintroduction to
film photography after college was through the purchase of a Nikon F2
(from the guy who owned the film lab I mentioned above) for $100,
equipped with a 50mm f/1.4. Today we live in a vastly different world.
More and more photographers and people wanting to get into photography
are considering getting into film and as such the prices for cameras
will continue to grow.
What Would Turn Things Around
I started this article talking about the zero-sum game because the
film photography world needs more photographers to continue to grow and
expand. The growing number of photographers, however, equates to higher
and higher prices for both film and cameras. With so few manufacturers
making new film cameras (and the cameras that are available are either
very cheap or horribly expensive), photographers are relying more and
more on decades old cameras which, with their finite stock, are getting
further out of reach for people getting into film photography.
As such, I would argue that the only thing that could truly turn
things around is for more manufacturers to present new options for
cameras and among those that currently make them, to offer less
expensive options. I don’t know anyone that is willing to pay the money
for a Nikon F6 or Leica M-A
which cost more than $2,500 and $5,000, respectively. (If you do and/or
have, more power to you.) Gone are the days of the newly made Nikon
F100 or Canon Elan 7. If any would just make 35mm cameras (or even
medium format cameras!) that fit somewhere between the plastic, gimmicky
Lomography cameras which don’t even get put into the 35mm category on
B&H’s website and the ultra-expensive, “I should have just bought a
digital camera” Nikon and Leica options. That said, I don’t think that
will ever happen. Though camera sells have been on the decline,
investing in the production of a film camera doesn’t even seem to be a
remote possibility.
What do you think? Do you see any manufacturers staging the comeback of modern film cameras?
