Portrait

Since learning that the lovely photographs made of Ron Hawkins from earlier in this issue were made on 35mm film, I’ve been reflecting on the strange relationship I’ve had with film throughout my own life. I was raised right as the full transition to digital was underway. My grandparents still made photos on instant film Polaroids, my Father recorded home videos onto VHS tapes, and my Mother used the camera on her cell phone; a broad spectrum of image capturing methods. As I grew older I would find cameras in all my phones, mp3s and laptops, but now almost everything with an ‘ON’ button has a camera in it that serves a purpose. Despite this, I still fondly remember carrying stacks of Polaroids made in a single day, or using disposable cameras with family and getting them processed and printed at 1 Hour Photo labs with those mysterious little envelopes of 4 x 6 prints.

When the first Covid quarantine began in 2020, I borrowed an old film camera from my Grandmother to pass the time and see if I had what it takes to make photos the way it would have been done decades earlier. The camera itself is a 50-year-old Konica that you could find on eBay for around 5 to 10 dollars, except this one hardly worked. I wasn’t confidant an old, cheap and broken camera would serve as a good gateway to rediscovering film, but it managed to do the trick. Although I wouldn’t have predicted it then, it’s a camera I use to this day.

As a music photographer, one of my favourite things to photograph with this new camera is people. I’m comfortable with making photos digitally, and confident that I can see the results immediately to know what needs to be changed and fixed, but there’s a sincere fear I experience every time I put a new roll in the Konica that it’ll be a bust that wastes time and money. It’s terrifying not knowing what the photos look like until it’s too late, but they’re usually the photos that are the most carefree, casual and honest. They also happen to be the photos these bands are the most excited to see, and It’s an excitement I understand. If the bass player blinked at the wrong millisecond, or the drummer has to sneeze and makes a strange face, or my idiot finger is accidentally covering a corner of the lens, a whole 1/24th of the shots are already unusable. Throughout my life I forget just how fascinating film truly is; tangible images made from time, light and chemicals, even the 98% of photos from rolls that are “wasted shots” still have some magic in them.

PHOTO & WORDS: MICHAEL NEAL