How I always end up having more and more pictures (and thoughts) to share.

By developing and printing pictures in the weekends and spare hours at the end of the day, I noticed that more and more extra pictures are piling up – waiting for some recognition. Single pictures that don’t fit into any themed article I share on this blog, but still portray a moment of everyday life – which i mostly spend with a camera around my neck or in my pocket. Some of these pictures even date back years, while others are more recent and just were previously underappreciated and only now noticed.  Since sorting through sleeves of negatives is time consuming – as much as setting up the dark room is – I need to focus on discipline and consistency. And I have to accept that I might not ever be able to print all the pictures I take. Luckily, this thought does not frighten me: I believe that such acceptance of the incomplete power that all of us have over the events of life is an underlying element of any aspect of life itself; accepting the limits of what can be done. Therefore, time management and satisfaction. I have tons of hobbies and interests, and I’m happy even with the little I can get out of any of them. Having at least some pictures to look at, to remind myself of the moment I took that picture – in a visually appealing photograph, giving me the chance to see, or at least imagine, the life of the people portrayed in it –  is enough.

I believe that being able to explore one’s own memories in a picture from a more or less distant past, and confronting them with what a stranger might instead see in that same picture is photography’s most intriguing aspect: one has to admit that the boundary of what can be seen in a picture and what actually was in the frame is shallow, yet existing. Humans tend to make up stories to explain what they see: memory-digging and imagination are very similar neural processes [references: 1, 2, 3, 4], and once watching a picture someone else took – having no clue of what was going on at the moment – one tries to guess, based on impressions given by the picture and one’s own understanding of life and reality. Therefore the author’s memory most probably differs to some extent from what a viewer might instead get from of the picture.

Such difference hightens the inherent values of a photographer’s work: first of all the picture no longer is a mere reproduction of reality – yet instead the result of a complex multi-stepped process involving technique and human judgement – secondly it becomes an emblem of the author’s emotional attachment to said memory. The fact that the picture might be good or bad then depends on the photographer’s skills, but the creativity embedded in the process remains untouched despite the artistic value that the picture might or might not have – artistic value which one should then pursue in order to make their own ‘words’ more understandable. In her own On Photography, Susan Sontag claims something similar, saying that photographs fail to reproduce reality even though the result is so damn close to how reality looks like. She made such statement in regards to her views about how capitalist societies “…established a chronic voyeuristic relation to the world around them…” in 1970s – and that didn’t change in over 40 years. A picture is not meant to reproduce reality, neither to create something new. It interprets it – through the artistic voice of the author – and allows it to be interpreted by the viewer. Thus several different interpretations arise –  some more and some less, depending on any given picture. Every single day I try to take pictures that echo my tastes and ideals the most, and it’s just a matter of unrelentless dedication to the camera.

By always experimenting, one burns through a huge stash of film rolls. That might be expensive, but it pays off in experience. Moreover, among all those pictures the are so many shots that can still tell a story: backstage shots from some project, discarded images that weren’t fit for whatever idea I was pursuing, or even just candid shots of all of us enjoying ourselves while working on some show, filming or whatever. Forgotten moments that go unnoticed when the film was first developed and watched, but that after time make the photographer smile.

Some are just snapshots of everyday life, for how much that might be boring – even though many photographers (e.g. William Eggleston, Stephen Shore) already proved that anything can be, or become, interesting for someone in a photograph. This resonates a lot with some of my previous claims, and in fact I tend to try to convey my beliefs mostly through street photography – and portrait projects, but that is out of the picture in this matter. Everyday acts and ordinary people are everywhere, and one can hardly see them all during their life. They catch my eye, and everyone of them evokes a different story.

And I hardly ever run out of such ordinary shots, as they compound the overwhelming major part of my production. Every once I dry a roll of film and look at is frames against the light, my eyes swirl in search for pictures that might have an artistic value. As I previously said, many don’t have any or enough to make the cut. But sometimes some good ones slip through, and go unnoticed for a while.

Some even failed to make it on the paper just due to technical issues. For a long time I could not print this picture of a stray cat that I took more than six years ago in Beograd: it kept being partially out of focus, probably due to the film’s unflatness (i.e. I did take it on an early version of Bergger’s BRF400 that had a really nice grain, but also a relatively very thick medium that probably curled). I never had any problem with any other of my pics, and soon got demotivated to print it convinced that it was jinxed. Recently I tried again and finally managed to print it as I planned it to be: contrasty and super sharp, to show the lines and texture of the floor underneath the cat.

Despite me being a major supporter of the theory that analog photography helps one to get detached from the memory of the pictures that were taken long before they are actually developed and printed or at least that’s what happens to amateurs: months can pass between shooting and developing there always are some pictures that get stuck in one’s mind, and this one that I took at Fondazione Prada is an example of that. Finding a companion to build a project with is no easy task, therefore it is destined to wait. I really believe that there’s something interesting going on in it, and in every couple of rolls of film there is one of such pictures: little gems that deserve to be printed, at least to my taste.

Among them there is a balance or at least proof of an attempt on my behalf  between artistic value and duty to report all the most interesting and uncommon things I might encounter. Visual imagery is very evocative, and a photographer’s hope is always to be able to report something unique or unusual: things that once out of context might still shock the viewer and/or titillate their curiosity.

As mentioned earlier, such an archive task is long and time-consuming and that is how pictures get stuck in transition. Many forgotten, others unnoticed: I have already discoursed about such reasons, and the effects of watching one of said worthy images, yet one must also consider the amount of will-force needed. With different technical assumptions (i.e. on one side the overwhelmingly bigger amount of picture .jpgs, on the other the many chemical steps that have to be undergone) it is the same for digital and analog photography: why should one check pictures again, after a long time and knowing that they already were deemed uninteresting once?

Why? Because of the perception distortion caused by the passing of time that I already mentioned, and also out of respect for how much time one spent experimenting and also having fun with the framing, at the time of the picture being shot. It is not the most vivid of the memories that one recalls when thinking about the moment when the picture was being taken: many other sensations are far stronger and get memories more stuck into one’s mind. Yet, the joyful and mindful attitude that constant photo-taking induces stands tall among the reasons why these actions are so enjoyable to the photographer. At the risk of stating the obvious, that is said of any human activity: once enjoyable, its mechanics become unconscious. Here, I want to put it in the limelight.

I believe this is the reason why, while scrolling through my negatives, I mostly encounter pictures of my girlfriend. Most of them are not that artistic, as I shoot them instinctively. Yet all of them put a smile on my face, and luckily a few also are visually interesting: they all are pleasing memories which is most important  but I also try to fit something creative in the process.

I can do that by always having a camera with me. That is what I also always suggest to those of my friends that are interested in photography. I might be the idiot with a few kilograms of camera hanging from my neck  and seem more of a hipster because of it and maybe I might not even take any pictures some of the times I carry it, but at least I am always ready. That proved to be a helpful habit most of the times.

About one year ago I decided to fulfill such always-a-camera-in-my-pocket rule by finding a cheap pocket camera, that also had a widish angle. That proved to be tricky for many reasons: first of all online pocket cameras are nowadays mostly divided between the ones that are usable (i.e. going from luxury ones such as Contax T4, to consumer level Olympus Mju Zooms) and sold at a price higher than their value  sometimes at very high prices and those that are completely useless (i.e. plastic lens, poor mechanics) that are sold in bunches. Secondly compact cameras are mostly electronics, therefore they break easily and irredeemably. Lastly, to my knowledge only few compact cameras sport a wide angle lens and are worthy the buy, due to their quality: the Nikon 28Ti, the Ricoh GR1 series both very expensive the Lomo LC-wide expensive and overhyped  and the Nikon AF600  which I never heard of before, but was lucky to have crossed paths with. A compact camera is easier to always carry around, and does its job well.

Therefore by always having a camera  being it a full-sized and full-control camera, or a pocketable one I try to take pictures both to create a meaningful image and tell something about myself and my ideals, and to be snapshots of every life and tell something about the world around me.

Some of the pictures I took ended up being less clear than intended: it mostly happens that some images are underexposed, and therefore due to my harsh-contrast printing habits the shadows tend to extend across most of the image. Yet, some still can give a glimpse of something. Some silhouettes still have enough contrast against the lit background, or the skin of someone in the picture is lit enough to emerge from the blacks of the image. It is not much, but it can be enough.

Still, I always need to test how much contrast I can fit in a picture, therefore I always exercise it while in the darkroom.

Recently I noticed that giving people a physical picture of them  one that they know was taken and printed by me is a well appreciated gift, and a token of my friendship I am happy to share with them.

And the more I take pictures in everyday life, the more of them I have to share with the people I portrayed at the time. At this moment, I still have a bunch of images to give around and they will not halt.

I also recently started experimenting with newer formats, firstly 4×5 film with my new Intrepid 4×5 mark II (i.e. a wood low-budget large-format camera meant for those that want to dwell into this kind of format without breaking their budget). I decided to start a new portrait project with it, and since then I tested the camera and various films out, in order to get a hold of what it is capable of doing.

Instant pictures are another photographic format I have been using more and more during the last couple of years: it is perfect to catch a moment, and its physical form is inherently perfect to share. Currently my SLR680 and Spectra are never failing me, and Mint’s new RF70 camera is currently under my thorough testing.

In 2014 I decided to stick to only analog photography. As I already repeated over and over again, it wasn’t because of an advantage in said technique over digital photography, but because of my personal taste for film grain and because of the discipline required for developing and printing. I now am conscious about having to always expect the unexpected, and therefore whatever is the weather or my daily schedule, I always have a camera by my side.

There is no wrong place where to bring a camera: some individuals might make it difficult and make nonsense claims about ethics in photography but I believe that as long as the photographer is not being unrightful or harmful, the portrayed person should be understanding of the creative value the photographer is attempting in the shot. Luckily, most times people are welcoming.

All of those thoughts I stated in words and the conclusions I drew should not put me at ease, but keep me alert. Every chance for a picture can be a moment to train my eye. I might not get better at taking pictures, but at least by this I will not stop enjoying taking them.

Thanks to Giuditta Fullone for reviewing this article.

All the images included in this article were shot on Ilford HP5 film (pushed @1600) on various cameras, home-developed and home-printed in my bathroom/darkroom, and then scanned.