The Charm and Idiosyncrasies of Shooting Film

The other day, I grabbed my film SLR from its sleeping position (which it occupies most of the year) and rushed off to a group meetup. I had my digital gear as well but wanted film because the homestead was a vintage scene. I was so sure of myself, I didn't check for motion in the rewind lever and after 26 shots, figured that either the film was not advancing or there was nothing in the body. I had the cardboard film box end inserted on the back of the camera (where digital bodies have the LCD panel). Sigh! There was no film in the body.

It's moments like this that I remember why I am so much more successful with digital cameras. Aside from the cost-free multiple shots, instant review on the LCD, easy restore of preferred settings, digital doesn't allow me to shoot endlessly without a recording medium.

So, why do I continue to shoot film from time to time? Well, I shoot 35mm film. Sometimes expired film. Often home scanned with a low-end scanner (lately the Epson Perfection V370). Comes with dust bunnies and organic visual elements. Imperfect dynamic range, colour rendition. Manual focussed with inexpensive old lenses.

The imperfections are a cornerstone of what I feel are believable. 

The moorhen and the lonely bench (old Kodakcolor Gold 400 in Olympus TRIP 35)

Above is a somewhat iconic Australian bush park reserve - a digital version could potentially (or certainly) have been sharper, cleaner, shot in raw and "worked" in Adobe Lightroom (or Capture One Pro, whichever is the editor in favour). With this, I set some scanning parameters, cropped and that was about it. I feel that it conveys the mood to me, I have a rough feel for the greens and browns instead of riding the vibrance and saturation sliders.

Gumtrees with the brown tones  (old Kodakcolor Gold 400 in Olympus TRIP 35)

A look across the water, embellished with dust bunnies
(old Kodakcolor Gold 400 in Olympus TRIP 35)

Tired but floating on a cloud

I’ve been meaning to catch Burt Bacharach all these years. His rich music output over all these years covered my early teens through to University and beyond. Part of the nostalgia kick is to listen to Dionne Warwick, Karen Carpenter and all the ones who made it with his songs.
By the way, Burt says Hal David is in hospital and not doing well at all. Take a pause and send some good thoughts his way.
You know the old songs of Burt and Hal, from What The World Needs Now Is Love, Walk On By, Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head – you’ve heard them a thousand times from the hollow sounding microphoned recordings of old through to some chick flick leveraging nostalgia and soft moist tissues. – they’re very much like old film.
A lot of the youngsters have re-discovered the dye colours of film, shirking digital purity. They’ve seen the stuff we used to shoot on Kodakchrome, Ektachhrome, Agfachrome, faded a bit, and they want to shoot the same deal – with sprocket holes. See how many canned effects we have in Instagram, Picasa, Piknik that mock up that. That’s because they didn’t dip their hands in D-76 and the only hypo they know is a syringe reference.
Ok, film, despite the slow demise of Kodak, is not dead and not faded – it’s getting a new lease of arty life. Maybe, maybe you should experience film, just a few rolls, before cost and saving the earth from smelly chemicals and dyes overcome you. For, if you don’t feel the past, feel the current, how do you fashion the future?
Go get an old film camera, it doesn’’t have to be a Leica, it doesn’t have to be a Holga. Shoot it. You’ll never know until you do.

From Ananda's Film Album

From Ananda's Film Album

From 06/04/2012

Oh, and Burt. Bliss like anything. More than just an item on my bucket list. He brought the nostalgia back to me and to the whole audience of grey hairs and balds. We felt like teens and children again, swaying to the spell he cast. But it wasn’t tired, hollow mic-ed music performed competently. It was superb modern arrangements (but still the impeccable timing and precision that you can rely on from Burt), passionately played by his core band (and the Australian ensembles) and sung for all their life with interpretive gusto by Donna Taylor, Josie James and John Pagano. Melbourne still has one day, the 20th April – and tickets should still be available online.