Stop and take a photo of the roses

^{Narrated by Lushika Preethrajh}

The first time I pressed the shutter button on a vintage camera, I was hooked.

Many aspects of today’s society cater towards instant gratification — news and information in our pockets, rapid food delivery, on-demand music, and movies and TV shows in our living rooms. While I’m not here to rail against that, I will say that for myself, at least, I enjoy doing some things at a slower, more deliberate pace.

My hobbies include several vintage or old-fashioned things. I type letters on typewriters and listen to music on open-reel tapes and vinyl records. And I know I’m not alone in desiring some slowness to counter the breathless rapidity in life. The popularity of vinyl and other physical media has skyrocketed in recent years, for example, along with one of my favorites: film photography. On a recent trip to Seattle, I spotted a group of high schoolers using a film camera to take a photo of a gas station sign illuminated against the night and reflected in a puddle of water. It made me happy to see that, despite the many criticisms of ‘the youth of today’ from older generations, people of all ages like to put their phones down and try something different sometimes.

It’s very easy to take a picture these days. I can pull my phone out of my pocket and capture an image in a matter of seconds. I can take dozens of snapshots, and pick out the one that looks the best. But the tradeoff is that those pictures can seem cheapened, devalued by sheer volume. How many times have you pulled out your phone, snapped a picture, and posted it to social media almost on reflex? How many thousands of pictures do you have on your device that you will likely never look at again? I know I have plenty, myself.

But when I hold a film camera in my hand, I’m holding something that was built for the express purpose of taking still photos and nothing else. There are no extra features, no extra capabilities or notifications or distractions — just a handful of controls to set up the photo the way I want. The camera will take a picture only if and when I tell it to. There are no unlimited do-overs or instant feedback, either;  a roll of film has thirty-six shots, and until they’re developed, I will have no idea what they look like. Each photo is special.

Every time I get a package of developed photos in the mail from the development lab, it’s like Christmas. The anticipation that began the moment I pressed the shutter button finally comes to a head, and I get a payoff that was weeks in the making. The results are far more tactile — far more real — than thumb-swiping on a phone. At least to me.

As I flip through a stack of prints, each one is a memory in my hands. I can remember the moment I took the photo as I hold each one — I remember details about the place I took the photo, and sometimes even what I was thinking that day. And when I’m done, I can take my favorites and place them in an album to show friends and relatives. No electronics, no cloud, and no swiping required.

The experience of film isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, however. While the format in general is slower than digital photography, some situations require quick adaptation. It takes skill to estimate light levels or shutter speeds on the fly to catch something before it disappears — oftentimes, levels of skill which I don’t have yet. 

And of course, there’s always the risk of photos not turning out. The first roll of film I ever shot was objectively bad. A pink stripe in the first photo signified that light had leaked onto the undeveloped film, somehow. Even beyond that, all of the photos were underexposed or out of focus. 

When you factor in the price of a roll of film and development costs, mistakes can be expensive. But I think the downsides serve to enhance the experience. The effort that goes into making a photo look good makes it all the more rewarding when it does turn out well.

So if you’re looking for a hobby that’s more hands-on and forces you to slow down, taking things as they come, I recommend giving film photography a try. There’s no shortage of excellent cameras on the used market, and no shortage of stunning scenes to capture, right here in the Tri-Cities.

Photos by Zachary Howard