Back in college, when I had the time and easily accessible facilities, I did some film photography. As much as I love digital photography, I cannot emphasize how much I hate working with any sort of electronics. I do appreciate the endless possibilities, don’t get me wrong, but for me, there’s no better way to work than to actually make something with my own two hands. As someone who loves making stuff and doing every step of the process myself, I absolutely loved the rather long process of developing film and creating the actual photographs. I loved the fact that to transfer the film, you have to be in a completely pitch black room and only use your sense of touch to complete a series of steps. I loved that if there was any missteps in the process, the whole film would be affected, and therefore all the photographs on it. I loved that it was complex and every decision you made affected the outcome. And then of course the actual printing of the photographs which is a whole different beast in itself. One of my photo teachers mentioned this recently in a class, nowadays photography can become a lot less deliberate. With an endless amount of space on memory cards and computers, there is little to limit the amount of photos you take. When you had a limited amount of film and the knowledge that out of the photographs you take, only a limited few will be printed, there is a lot more thought that goes into how to take photographs.
And now to put a complete damper on this otherwise non-depressing post, here are some photographs I took with an old Russian camera that I had inherited from my dad (but which, according to my mom he had never actually used). The photographs are images of the three memorials set up alongside the road in the are I live. With this group of images, I was interested in memorials, tragedy and how those who have lost someone deal with that loss. I am fascinated by memory, history (personal or otherwise) and the recording of that history in numerous ways. These were all taken on a film camera and developed by myself in a darkroom.