More than point and shoot

“Look closely and notice the grain of the film – an entire image composed of millions of tiny individual specks of black and gray.”

There is a simplicity to black and white photography, where careful construction of crisp contrast, gray tones and smooth depth of field combine to form an image of depth and complexity. Look closely and notice the grain of the film – an entire image composed of millions of tiny individual specks of black and gray.

If you remember your first camera, it was likely a film camera – perhaps you still own a film camera.  My first film camera was an automatic Minolta, and with this camera I consumed more rolls of film than I’ve cared to count.

Growing up in Sarajevo, my father had constructed a tiny makeshift darkroom for black and white film development and photo printing in one of the bathrooms in our apartment.  There, as a curious toddler I sat on his lap and watched as images magically appeared on previously bare paper – a set of railroad tracks leading into a dark, stone-framed overturned “U” of a tunnel.  I understood that these were photos that my father had taken, but how he manipulated this photo from a tiny negative onto a whole sheet of white paper was a mystery to me.  These images and questions stayed with me as I toyed with my Minolta, and later, when I turned to my first point and shoot digital camera.  I had a yearning to learn these basics, even though I was growing up in a time that was quickly making these basics obsolete.

With a digital camera and a decent memory card, anyone is capable of taking hundreds, if not thousands of photographs.  By probability alone, one of those photos is likely to be quite fantastic. With film, the odds are not in your favour, coming to wanton pointing and shooting. A roll of film with 24 exposures must be thought out.  If you are using a manual single lens reflex camera (SLR), the aperture and shutter speed must be set to work in tandem with your conditions to achieve your desired effect.  You must compose your image, check your camera’s built in light meter one last time, make any last minute adjustments, take a breath, and press the shutter release.

These all seemed to be overwhelming tasks to me, having grown up using cameras that automatically decided everything but the actual composition of the photo itself.  Not to mention the developing of the film and printing of the photos.  I didn’t know where to start.  I remembered that tunnel, slowly appearing from white to gray to black, and decided that one day I would learn.

Upon arrival at the University of Guelph nearly five years ago, a new world of possibilities and a seemingly endless number of clubs were presented to me during the CSA’s Club Days.  One club immediately caught my attention – the Photo Arts Club.  On their table was an old Pentax SLR, a positively ancient yet indestructible-looking camera, and numerous black and white photos that had been mounted to thick cardstock.  The club held workshops for beginners – I learned what all those little knobs and dials on the Pentax did and how to find my way around a darkroom.  I signed out equipment and went out into the world, taking my first film photographs with an SLR camera.  It was liberating to have complete control over a photograph.

My first time in a darkroom developing black and white film was bittersweet.  I spent well over an hour and a half developing a roll of film; the process should only take around 45 minutes.  When I finally removed the film from the lightproof container where I had treated it with chemicals, and pulled apart the reel onto which it was loaded, I was surprised. Not a single photo – just one very black frame at the end of the roll.  I laughed out loud – I had loaded the film wrong and had taken 24 exposures on one single frame.

Since then my skill (and perhaps luck) quickly improved, and I have photos to show for it.  Being in full control of the photograph you are developing is incredibly rewarding.

While digital photography is convenient, fast and allows you to review your work instantly, film photography forces you to think and compose.  Of course, this is also possible with digital photography, however for many of us it is just too tempting to point and shoot and see what happens.   Even if you love digital photography as much as I do, stepping back into the realm of film photography has its many benefits. You develop an understanding of composition, how photography has advanced, and begin to appreciate the roots from which it has grown.

Now, I have finally satisfied the curiosity that I first had as a two-year-old watching photos magically appear on plain white paper.

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