The Joy of Analog Photos
I have wanted a Polaroid camera since I was a kid. Like, you get the photo RIGHT AWAY?! How cool! Who wouldn't want that? But my mother wouldn't get me one. She said, even then, that they were old fashioned and too expensive and the film was hard to come by and they were hard to take care of... Maybe not all those excuses. But a big one was the expense. And I certainly didn't have the money.
A few years ago, I saw they were selling them at Target. They came back! Although I suppose they never went away among the dedicated. But now that they are selling them at stores as popular as Target, it's easy to get them and the film and even accessories! It was near my birthday the few years ago when I saw it so I sent out some hints. I did not receive one for my birthday that year.
I realized that, as an adult with my own money, I could simply buy one for myself now. Make my childhood dreams come true! But I could see where my mother was coming from... they are still expensive today, comparatively, with inflation and my economic status and whatever. It seemed like too much of an indulgence. So I didn't buy myself one.
Another reason why I didn't buy myself a camera is that I realized that I just wasn't not that into photography. As a kid, I had a film camera and there was definitely a phase in my life where all my friend and I did was take photos -- fill up rolls of 24 photos over time, drop them off at Walmart or the pharmacy to get them developed, wait for them to develop, go back to pick them up, look at them, sort through them, fill albums and scrapbooks. Then I got less crafty and the photos piled up. They weren't very good. We had to pay for the film, for the development, for the albums and scrapbook supplies.
I eventually replaced my point-and-shoot film camera with a digital camera. During my later high school years, I guess. How convenient not to have to pay for film or development! I took soooo many photos. They piled up on SD cards and hard drives. But still, paying for prints or photobooks added up. (Moral of the story: getting a service or product -- i.e. film, development, photo prints, albums -- costs money, not matter what the format!)
In college, I took a photography class. I borrowed a fancier film camera because it wasn't a digital photography course. It was a film course where we developed our own film in a dark room. It was very interesting and surprisingly complicated -- I could never do it on my own at home. I was also always so surprised about the feedback I got back from the professor about my photos. She always had something to critique... to me, my photos always looked fine. Actually, I thought they looked quite nice? If only she saw my point-and-shoot photos from my childhood! Ha. But if this professional was finding so much wrong with my photography, perhaps I was objectively bad at it.
Then came the age of smartphone cameras and Instagram and photo blogs and food pics and we were just inundated with photos. There were filters and touch-ups and digital effects and editing and PhotoShop... and it was just all too much for me. I didn't care. It wasn't fun anymore; there was too much pressure for everything to look good, for the photos themselves and whatever was in them to look perfect. It was exhausting, so I opted out. I thought taking photos was not for me anymore.
I would still take pictures casually on my phone -- when my kids were being cute or creative, or I'd snap something funny or absurd out in the wilds of society to text my husband. I'd be in a shop and send a pic asking "Should I buy this?" or something. The photos continue to pile up, but in the cloud this time. I don't print them. I don't make physical albums anymore. I'm not leaving anything for posterity.
But now I have a Polaroid instant camera! It came with an 8-pack of color film. Only 8. A limit! I'll have to be mindful with what I photograph. It'll have to mean something to ME.
I was gifted the camera the morning of my birthday so I brought it with us to our trip to the zoo. I took a family photo in the park, a picture of my kids in front of a sign, my husband on a park bench. Back home, my husband took a photo of me with my cake. The next day, I took a photo of my cat. I had decided right away that I wanted a photo of my cat, but I had to wait for a good opportunity. It's been fun!
And I don't feel the pressure I did with the online sharing of digital photos. It's a new camera so I'm still figuring out how to use it. I line it up in the viewfinder best I can, try to auto-focus, and press the shutter. Then a photo spits out! How will it look?! I wait 10-15 to see. So far, none of my photos are perfect, but I LOVE them. I love the spontaneity. I love the vintage-looking colors. I love the simplicity. I love wondering, "Will this be a good photo opportunity?" I love having the photos immediately. It's been such a simple joy. No pressure, just delight.
I still have 3 photos left to shoot from my original 8-pack. I'd like to try black-and-white photos someday soon. I'd like to get a Polaroid album as a place to collect my photos over time. I'd like to share them with my family and friends, by meeting up in person or sending them a physical object. I already choose 2 to display on my desk at work.
This photography is simple and imperfect and immediately satisfying. Even more satisfying than an immediate digital photo because I don't need a device to view it. It's tactile and fun, a machine to hold and an activity to DO. And I do it just for me.
A few years ago, I saw they were selling them at Target. They came back! Although I suppose they never went away among the dedicated. But now that they are selling them at stores as popular as Target, it's easy to get them and the film and even accessories! It was near my birthday the few years ago when I saw it so I sent out some hints. I did not receive one for my birthday that year.
I realized that, as an adult with my own money, I could simply buy one for myself now. Make my childhood dreams come true! But I could see where my mother was coming from... they are still expensive today, comparatively, with inflation and my economic status and whatever. It seemed like too much of an indulgence. So I didn't buy myself one.
Another reason why I didn't buy myself a camera is that I realized that I just wasn't not that into photography. As a kid, I had a film camera and there was definitely a phase in my life where all my friend and I did was take photos -- fill up rolls of 24 photos over time, drop them off at Walmart or the pharmacy to get them developed, wait for them to develop, go back to pick them up, look at them, sort through them, fill albums and scrapbooks. Then I got less crafty and the photos piled up. They weren't very good. We had to pay for the film, for the development, for the albums and scrapbook supplies.
I eventually replaced my point-and-shoot film camera with a digital camera. During my later high school years, I guess. How convenient not to have to pay for film or development! I took soooo many photos. They piled up on SD cards and hard drives. But still, paying for prints or photobooks added up. (Moral of the story: getting a service or product -- i.e. film, development, photo prints, albums -- costs money, not matter what the format!)
In college, I took a photography class. I borrowed a fancier film camera because it wasn't a digital photography course. It was a film course where we developed our own film in a dark room. It was very interesting and surprisingly complicated -- I could never do it on my own at home. I was also always so surprised about the feedback I got back from the professor about my photos. She always had something to critique... to me, my photos always looked fine. Actually, I thought they looked quite nice? If only she saw my point-and-shoot photos from my childhood! Ha. But if this professional was finding so much wrong with my photography, perhaps I was objectively bad at it.
Then came the age of smartphone cameras and Instagram and photo blogs and food pics and we were just inundated with photos. There were filters and touch-ups and digital effects and editing and PhotoShop... and it was just all too much for me. I didn't care. It wasn't fun anymore; there was too much pressure for everything to look good, for the photos themselves and whatever was in them to look perfect. It was exhausting, so I opted out. I thought taking photos was not for me anymore.
I would still take pictures casually on my phone -- when my kids were being cute or creative, or I'd snap something funny or absurd out in the wilds of society to text my husband. I'd be in a shop and send a pic asking "Should I buy this?" or something. The photos continue to pile up, but in the cloud this time. I don't print them. I don't make physical albums anymore. I'm not leaving anything for posterity.
But now I have a Polaroid instant camera! It came with an 8-pack of color film. Only 8. A limit! I'll have to be mindful with what I photograph. It'll have to mean something to ME.
I was gifted the camera the morning of my birthday so I brought it with us to our trip to the zoo. I took a family photo in the park, a picture of my kids in front of a sign, my husband on a park bench. Back home, my husband took a photo of me with my cake. The next day, I took a photo of my cat. I had decided right away that I wanted a photo of my cat, but I had to wait for a good opportunity. It's been fun!
And I don't feel the pressure I did with the online sharing of digital photos. It's a new camera so I'm still figuring out how to use it. I line it up in the viewfinder best I can, try to auto-focus, and press the shutter. Then a photo spits out! How will it look?! I wait 10-15 to see. So far, none of my photos are perfect, but I LOVE them. I love the spontaneity. I love the vintage-looking colors. I love the simplicity. I love wondering, "Will this be a good photo opportunity?" I love having the photos immediately. It's been such a simple joy. No pressure, just delight.
I still have 3 photos left to shoot from my original 8-pack. I'd like to try black-and-white photos someday soon. I'd like to get a Polaroid album as a place to collect my photos over time. I'd like to share them with my family and friends, by meeting up in person or sending them a physical object. I already choose 2 to display on my desk at work.
This photography is simple and imperfect and immediately satisfying. Even more satisfying than an immediate digital photo because I don't need a device to view it. It's tactile and fun, a machine to hold and an activity to DO. And I do it just for me.