#275: The Film SLR
Sophie reflects on her photographic incompetence and why it’s important
Eleanor and Katie are delighted to welcome Sophie Gregory for a special guest post this week. We’ve written about a camera before, but never with much technical knowledge, until now. Read on for an insight into Sophie’s experience of using a film SLR, and the reflections it provokes.
A bee poised over a swollen rose; a friend laughing at a terrible joke; the contrast of a single bird swooping through a cloudless blue sky. These are all split-second moments to be caught on camera. And they are all shots that I have missed.
That’s the nature of working with a film SLR, a single-lens reflex camera that works using a mirror and prism, where light is bent so that the photographer can see the image they are capturing in the viewfinder. You perpetually miss that perfect shot because you could not quite get the image into focus before the wind dropped, or you just got the shutter speed right as your friend realised you were pointing a camera at them and grimaced.
The brilliance of photography, we are so often told, is taking an instant in time and making it last forever. Maybe that’s true of digital cameras and phones, maybe it’s true of disposable cameras — many of my photos from these are dynamic, spontaneous, and frankly ridiculous — and maybe it’s true of 35mm point and shoots, but I don’t think it’s true of the film SLR.
That’s not to say that capturing those fleeting seconds is easy using any other type of camera. But let’s face it, it’s a lot easier to capture a genuinely candid shot when the subject doesn’t have to look down the Dalek-esque lens of your camera while you miserably twist the aperture ring.
The SLR is performative: you load the film, rip the side of the box to place in the memory holder, wind the film up again, and pop open the back to unload the canister. This performativity is a constant reminder that the SLR is not about the roll of film you pay extortionate amounts to develop, but the process you engage in to do so.
As a hopeless amateur, it is this process, and the capacities it forces me to develop, that keeps me returning to Boots’ photography counter. I have two film SLRs, three if you count my recently retired Minolta X-370, a Minolta X-300, and the eternally intimidating Canon A-1. Each of these cameras functions differently, but the skills and processes they have pushed me to recognise and develop are the same.
I’ve learnt, through countless rolls of empty film, overexposed photos and out of focus prints, that for a good film shot, you have to do the work. That means you learn to be patient, to be still, and to pay attention. The photograph is a culmination of the traits you bring to your SLR.
Patience comes in accepting that every new mistake you make is a new thing to learn to overcome. It took three or four rolls for me to learn how to load film properly, with speed, and without wasting any exposures. It took me three more rolls of film to learn how to manipulate depth of field. It took me two more rolls to learn how to get photos in focus quickly. Each time I develop a roll, I see where I can improve. Learning to engage with film is the epitome of ‘if at first you don’t succeed, try, try and try again’, except with ‘again and again and again’ tacked on the end.
It’s a similar case with the ability to be still and pay attention. Every time I miss ‘the perfect shot’ it’s because I haven’t been watching my surroundings. I should have noticed that man about to cross the road and obstruct my vision of a quiet west London street. I should have been prepared for that fox to dart away at the slightest sound. Inevitably, there’s only so much we can predict in a world that is so out of our control, but without the SLR I don’t think I would ever have started watching the world go by as carefully as I try to now. Where the automatic or the point and shoot allows you to be ready at a split second, the SLR forces you to prepare so that when everything in your viewfinder aligns, you’re at least already changing your shutter speed accordingly.
I have been using film SLRs since I was 16 and I still flick through my prints feeling slightly dissatisfied, as though I’ve had 36 chances to say something about how the world looks to me and all I’ve managed to mumble is ‘this dog looked cute 30 seconds before I managed to take this photo’, ‘I like country lanes’, and ‘isn’t this a nice view?’. Still, as I’ve continued using film, I’ve found myself liking more and more of my photos each roll, as well as finding more and more things to improve.
Snapping away using my phone is a privilege, it makes life really easy in terms of capturing memories. But saying something beyond the snap? For that I’ll always turn to the film SLR, which challenges me to understand and engage with the frame beyond the viewfinder, with myself as well as the subject, and with the process of taking the photo as well as the final result.
Sophie works in media and public affairs while also trying to finish her Master’s degree. She writes to procrastinate other overdue writing.
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