Filmscapades

After a particularly strenuous last couple of weeks, I’ve returned to shooting film. Years back, I was gifted a Canon AE-1 for Christmas after deciding to pursue a street photography project—an undeniable result of my undergraduate mind gravitating toward the likes of Vivian Maier and Garry Winogrand.

In regards to the strenuous weeks, I was ailed with a post-marathon foot injury, a delicious entree of despair. The icing on the cake was COVID for two weeks long. Cooped up in the confines of my room, I nearly lost my mind. I’m not exaggerating, by the way. I work from home so from the hours of nine through five I am at my desk, and then in bed watching whatever could take my mind off things.

So all that made sense to me was to get back into film photography. It would allow me to walk around, seek out interesting or deranged-looking places or people, and let me, for a brief time, escape myself. I dug out my Canon AE-1 from my closet, as well as my mom's old Minolta Hi-Matic G. Next course of business? Buy film.

There is a beautiful little place a few blocks from my apartment called Bellows Film Lab. I discovered it this past summer while seeking out a disposable camera I needed for a work assignment. Unbeknownst to me, Bellows had a unique business model. They have the ability to turn around film scanning and development in as little as an hour. I left with a compact disposable unlike any other I’d seen. The Bellows branding was labeled on the black camera in murky tones of purple and orange and green. The photos came out immaculately and I was hooked.

So in my despair, I set out for Bellows, except this time I had the determination to relearn photography technicalities. No more of this automatic shit, I thought. Of course, I’m much more modest than I let off. As I walked in I was greeted by a guy named James. “Picking up or dropping off,” he asked. I told him I was looking to get back into shooting and he offered some film stocks. I ended up going with the Ilford HP5 Plus which is black and white. I felt it matched my mood, and thought, this is how I’m going to buy film from here on out, whatever mood I’m in will dictate the film I’m shooting. Easy enough, right? One thing I observed in Bellows was the dismissive nature of some customers. Sort of snobby and all-knowing art student types who have graduated from Portra 400. Before I left I asked James if he could help me load the film into my camera, to which he obliged. I thought this was a really great gesture and service, and something that will keep me coming back.

I wasted no time. I started shooting buildings and obscure crevices of the street that had not appeared to me before. All of a sudden, my senses were aware of everything around me. I’ve noticed more things in my neighborhood within the last week of shooting film than I have running around and patronizing local bars over the last year. For instance, only a block away from me is a shotgun house neighboring a particularly modern three-flat consisting of steel and glass, mostly glass. It’s such a gift, or rather, simple pleasure to recognize architecture within walking distance.

Another thing I’ve found through shooting film again is the absence of giving a fuck. When I’m shooting I’m able to block out thoughts of what pedestrians might think of me. I’m able to use the weather, however dysfunctional it may be, to my advantage. The street becomes a canvas with which I can experiment. One moment that I really enjoyed was snapping a photo of a barn-looking house that had a Brandon Johnson sign outside, where a squirrel conveniently hovered above it. It’s these moments of intentional living and seeing that shooting film has granted me access to.

I am especially liking the photos of the people closest to me. They are nice enough to bear with me as I sort through shutter speeds and reckon with exposures. Just the other night I was shooting my girlfriend. She has a sort of sunset light in her room that protrudes orange hues. I directed it toward her—a shadow appearing in the background. I’m excited to see how it turns out, and I know that even if it’s blurry or underexposed, there’s beauty in that as well, and I can be appreciative of the simple act of attempting to capture a moment and hold onto it.

By some stroke of luck, I have recovered from my foot injury and am running again. COVID seems to have left my system. I’m still cooped up inside my room working a day job, but my outlets are back. I write these words with two cameras pointed at me on my desk. They serve as a reminder that happiness can be found through the click of a shutter.