On the sentimentality of film photos, and why I built a web-shrine for them
Getting a camera
When I was a second-year Information Design student in 2014, I begrudgingly bought a $70 second-hand Minolta X-700 film camera for a film photography module. In fact, I failed my first project because the camera’s mirror had an issue and every single photo came out blurry despite my efforts focusing clearly each time I pressed the button.
Student life
After fixing it and completing a few more university projects, developing my own photos in the darkroom, I developed a soft spot for this crusty old camera. I documented my student life first, taking photos of my room “to remember once I leave this student flat I adore”, and some blurry photos of my friends; now only a distant memory of lost contacts and people I used to know.
Japan and Singapore
I also started bringing it overseas on trips and documented special moments. My family lived in Japan for 4 years, and over the span of that time when I visited twice annually, I carried my heavy camera around and snapped here and there, trying to capture Japan through my eyes.
Thereafter, I moved to Singapore and the camera came with. I played around with both black and white and color film, even trying expired film for exciting glitches and light leaks. It soon became a hobby I adored and a way to capture moments of my life.
The sentimentality of film photography is that you don’t know what you’ll get when you develop the film. You can’t see how the photo turns out right after you took it, and you have to wait until the roll is finished before you can see them all. At that time, you’ve probably forgotten what you took photos of. The grainy effect, the light leaks, and the soft colors feel nostalgic, almost like a fuzzy memory in your mind. This is what I love about film.
Unfortunately, after developing them and storing them digitally, they started gathering proverbial digital dust on my hard drives. I wasn’t appreciating them or giving them attention. How sad to have these sweet, fleeting memories be hidden away on a hard drive.
For my mother
After looking through some photos on my hard drive, I stumbled across beautiful photos of my mother. She is a ray of sunshine, always smiling, being generous and hospitable, and praying for everyone she meets. I want to be like her one day. She is my best friend. My mom is currently in the hospice, spending her last days terminally ill with metastatic breast cancer. She can’t even pick up a spoon anymore, let alone stand up from her bed. By looking at these memories, snapshots in time on film, I remember better days, hear her smile, and feel her warmth.
Bringing some dignity back to my photos
On Sunday evening, I had a few hours to spare and decided to build a website for my photos. I paid for the domain (a sign as to how sentimental and meaningful these photos really are to me) and threw together a few pages to host my best photos of Japan, South Africa and Singapore.
I consider this my little digital shrine, a way for my photos to live on into the internet. One day when I’m no longer here, I hope these can leave a digital imprint and bring some beauty to someone’s day.
Check out my film photography website here.
