My Journey so far with Film Photography

As far back as I can remember, cameras have been a part of my life. Everyone’s life, I guess, but a few memorable points in mine remain related to and keyed on cameras, and because of my age — film cameras. Disposable Kodak cameras were a part of childhood holidays, and photo albums and photos with grandparents were obligatory. I remember going on a high-school theatre trip to the south of France and borrowing my girlfriend’s mum’s camera — an automatic 35mm camera of some type. I took many cool photos, setting up my friends on bollards in a row, so excited about the images I was capturing — then the camera was stolen. Heartbroken, an announcement was even made in an auditorium with 1,000 students: “Have you seen Danny’s camera?” I never got it back, and the images were lost. Around 20 years ago, I somehow acquired an Agfa Isolette medium-format camera — for the life of me, I cannot remember from where. I taught myself to use it, I think without the ease of finding information that one has nowadays with the internet, and produced some of my first images on film that felt technical and hard to achieve. I marvelled at the shallow depth of field and the amazing detail of the large 6×6 negative size. I bought a Holga 35mm camera and a colour-change flash, and fell in love with its ease of use and vintage lo-fi look. I went back to my Agfa and tried some landscape photography with a tripod, and really enjoyed the output, but the limitations of the camera made themselves known: a poor viewfinder and quite hard-to-use functions and dials. Also, the cost of developing, now in the 2020s, had rocketed, and in London was close to £40 for one roll of medium format — 12 shots! — including scans and prints. One day, strolling down Brick Lane, I came across a Minolta XD-7 and a 55mm f/1.8 lens for the princely sum of £30, which I promptly haggled down to £25. Wow — what a camera. I could do multiple exposures; it had aperture- and shutter-priority metering modes that worked well, and meant I could reliably get great shots. Other than no very fast shutter speeds, the camera could do so much. I fell in love with it, and it is still such a practical and robust piece of kit. This really kick-started my new engagement with the process. The first shot had light leaks around the permitter of each frame, which was fixable with an internet bought £15 light seal kit. Processing was still pricey, and the lab scans at my local store were not great. So I tried scanning the negatives with my Canon digital camera, shooting in RAW mode, and was amazed at how much more detail one could pull out of the negative. This turned into a really involved process of setting up the digital camera and finding the best settings: ISO 100, f/8, a two-second timer for no camera shake, mirror-up/live view, and manual focus. I was so amazed at the quality you could capture, and the levels of detail within a RAW image. But why go to all this effort if it’s quality I want? Why not use a digital camera? Well, the process itself is so involving: the limited number of frames, the tactile feel of the camera, waiting for development, and eventually the experience of developing at home. The learning, the joy of understanding, and the challenge. Not to mention the look of the shots, with lovely prime lenses and their idiosyncrasies, the unknown outcome, and the grain and “feel” of film. And most of all, the process: slowing down, getting it right, focusing on getting it right. These are the things in which I find real joy and satisfaction. I’ve chosen to start this website to share my images with those interested in film photography and those who enjoy intriguing images. My journey now is about understanding composition, what makes an interesting shot, and seeing if I can develop my own style. I hope you enjoy what you see.