My dad captured nearly my entire childhood on grainy-textured, saturated film prints. Recently, with him moving from the far side of Colorado, we endeavored to trim the photo contents of four sagging storage tubs. It was a slow task of recollection, necessitating hot tea and stories. With containers half-sorted, I noticed that the film record ended during my tween years when I got my first camera, a Canon PowerShot D10. Similarly devolved into unsorted storage, my digital photo memory is cast across online archives- many guarded by forgotten passwords.
Recently, I was gifted a Minolta X-700 for my summer project. This 1980s technology requires manual focus, but offers assistance with matching aperture and shutter speed. All to say, it is an appropriate camera for someone new to film. After consulting a few instructional videos on YouTube and gathering some pointers from friends, I loaded my first roll of film.
Lesson 1: Practice patience
The camera drawn across my shoulder was an invitation to momentary conversations about photography. I am learning that a world lives within the word photography- light, movement, time, distance- ripe for discussion. While shooting, someone remarked, “the sun is so harsh, but you can’t see.” On his digital camera, he was able to capture and then look at his shots in real time to make adjustments. Instead, I would have to wait to have my film developed. This wait encouraged me to slow down through the steps of framing, adjusting settings, and then (finally) shooting. The manual further suggests holding your breath as you release the shutter, coincidentally familiar to yogic mindful breathwork.
Despite my efforts to embody patience, I was anticipatory as Cape Film Supply developed my first roll. It was 36 frames of rich green hues and deep shadow-light contrast, all out of focus.
Lesson 2: Seek advice
My immediately bruised pride bogged my problem-solving spirit. Film is too challenging for me. The defeat in this moment was my misinterpretation of the challenge. The attraction to film photography, by nature of all crafts, is a commitment to continued learning and creation. The challenge for me was to embrace (not reject) the role of the student. I checked the manual of how to focus- I was using the focusing aids correctly.
I dug into Reddit forums that offered expansive recommendations to correct for my challenges. I spent two hours diagnosing the problem: the focus screen- a thin pane of glass that reflects the light coming into the camera towards the viewfinder, allowing the user to frame a shot- slipped out of place. In doing so, this slight misalignment between the lens, the mirror, and the viewfinder caused the inaccurate focusing in my photos.
Lesson 3: Embrace connection
Removing the focus screen is best suited for trained hands as it is thin and easy to crack. With some further internet scraping, I found Tony at the Camera Repair Center. The shop was no larger than a closet, and it was scaffolded from floor to ceiling by hundreds of small, labeled boxes of camera parts. I handed Tony my camera; he stepped outside, rotated the focus ring, sat at the desk, removed the lens, and popped out the focus screen. With a quick inspection, he flipped the screen around and reassembled the camera- all in a matter of seconds.
I am unsure how, but the visit became long with stories. He explained to me innovations in adapting cine film for handheld cameras- now commonly called 35mm film. He described his boyhood working in his father’s camera repair shop and finding early financial independence through his skills. He told tales of overland travel in Southern Africa, along with the accompanying car troubles. He described his home now filled with a lifetime of cameras and equipment, and a desire yet inability to retire.
What inspires that seemingly universal sense of nostalgia in film photography? Might it be that the aesthetic itself invites the viewer into these simple lessons endured by the photographer? I am learning to appreciate that film photography- from shooting to developing to maintaining- fosters intentionality. Through such, it evidences the interwoven stories and connections that we encounter second by second. It is these relationships that even my blurred photographs managed to capture.
STUDENT RESEARCHER
Alaina Geibig, Research Assistant and WCC Coordinator | Alaina is a Master of Environmental Management candidate interested in water resource management in drylands landscapes. More specifically, Alaina is interested in the environmental and social dimensions of water allocation and climate change. Prior to attending Yale School of the Environment, Alaina spent three years exploring the intersection of public land conservation, food cultivation, and rural community resilience as an AmeriCorps volunteer in Western Colorado. She holds a B.A. in psychology from the University of Puget Sound. In her free time, you can find Alaina (and her dog) grazing at the farmers market, dipping in cold lakes, or sipping tea. See what Alaina has been up to. | Blog