When You're A Dinosaur

There comes a point where a gentleman of a certain age must ask himself whether he's a bit of a dinosaur. Researching my archive for an exhibition later this year I stumbled on an actual one. Dippy, like so many others my age, was deemed surplus to requirements a few years back and put out to pasture, his skillset no long required and (actually) found out as a fake.  I was bereft. I first made friends with Dippy as a wide-eyed and boisterous 7 year old, when my dad introduced us as part of his ongoing plan to concurrently educate and distract his wayward youngster.  We immediately became best buddies and, once home, I set about collecting with vigour and obsession the dinosaur cards included in the Walls sausages on sale at that time, learning everything I could about dinosaurs for months on end. We ate a lot of sausages that winter, to my brother's disgust. Eventually though, like all good dinosaurs, Dippy went extinct and was removed a few years ago from his proud spot at the entrance of the Natural History Museum in London to howls of protest, replaced by a young upstart of a blue whale, while our hapless hero did a lap of honour around the country. One last roar, if you like. 

Like other dinosaurs my age, I started out shooting on film, first with a handed down box camera, then a Kodak instamatic before progressing to my first 35mm camera as a teen, a Vivitar 35EE rangefinder. It took marvellous photos on the Kodacolor II film of the time, famous for its powder blue skies and even colour tones. My first SLR was a Japanese Chinon CE4 sold in the UK through the Dixons camera store chain (later soaked up by the Curry's group) and although it was a more or less an own brand purchase, the camera came highly regarded in the camera press of the time, performing as well as any of the big brands, so for a cash strapped lad new to the world of work it was a good first step. Later I worked on Olympus and then Canon cameras and its Canon I've stayed with through the transition to digital, though for a while I was using Olympic digital cameras in the early days, but that's a another blog post.  Nowadays I have a shiny pro DSLR and I'm putting aside the pennies to go mirrorless and yet I've reverted to shooting analogue these past few years. Why? 

Why indeed. There seem to be quite a few 20 and 30-something dinosaurs out there thinking the same way. Analogue shooting has enjoyed a huge renaissance despite rising costs and frustrations with supply. The reasons for the supply problems are well documented. The pandemic caused challenges with supply chains for raw materials, affecting everything from chemicals to cannister caps. While the pandemic may be moving to a business as normal mode, there are still fragilities in the system which means that shocks, like the war in Ukraine which has affected things like oil, nitrates and things which affect other things, means that ripple affects continue to plague the system. Inflationary pressures have also added to costs and so we therefore have a recipe for increased costs or suppliers leaving the market. Famously, Kodak had laid off many of their plants and staff involved in producing consumer film so there has been an issue around factories and having trained staff which they are trying to resolve. Nonetheless, demand continues.   

For me ,these are my personal reasons and the number one above all is this: Joy.  Shooting digital brings me pleasure for sure. I can speed up my creativity and my learning, I can shoot 500, 600 pics on a trip and spend my time in post working through, learning what works and what doesn't and come out with half a dozen prizes. But shooting on film slows me down to how I used to be. It makes me think. It makes me wonder whether I really want to press the shutter button. This film cost me 15 to 20 quid. It will cost me the same again to get it processed. Do I want to process some crap? And pay for that pleasure? Or do I want to experiment, do something meaningful? Learn something today? Create something unique that digital can't do? I'll probably still get half a dozen treasures. The difference is I'll take 36 shots. 

A lot of people also state the aesthetics matter to them. Film gives you a look that digital can't match. I love comparing the different emulsions and seeing the atmosphere and texture they evoke and thinking about how I might use them. So I have a drawer full of stuff for specific occasions.  I *really* miss Kodachrome. If you have a developer who is very careful with their colour balancing and film profiles, you will get a very special result. A bad processer will give you muddy colours in your scans - or do it yourself if you're a confident scanner with good quality kit. I use either Silverpan Lab or Analogue Wonderland depending on what I'm getting processed, both are exemplary with quality control and highly recommended.

Lastly, for me its about keeping a connection with 140 years of camera film photography. George Eastman made that first flexible film in the early 1880's and I just love that we're still using the same technology to make pictures and the occasional piece of beautiful artwork. Magazines like Analog Forever show us what's possible with this 'dinosaur' medium while new analogue photographers who by dint of their age have only ever  known digital are showing us older creatives new approaches that I find exciting and it keeps me looking ahead and open to experimenting. One thing I like to do is work with very old cameras and see what I can get out of them that is new. I sent a few films to Silverpan from a World War 1 era camera and apart from a pinhole leak which is easily fixed, it was in perfect working order. Really indebted to Duncan there for his time and advice. 

In the end, I think film photography is tangible. Its real. It makes you patient. It makes you think, It makes you grow and learn. It sometimes makes you disappointed but we live in an era where we try to avoid that at all costs and, actually, a little disappointment is ok. Its healthy if it spurs us on to be better. 

So Dippy, I'm sorry, but you're on your own. I'm not a dinosaur. Not really. You're still my buddy and I'm glad I took some cool photos of you (even if they were digital). You're a great model. But that's why you got sacked my friend, 'cos you were a model and not really real.  As for me, I'm of indeterminate vintage. The moment you get stuck in the past, you're stuck. But if you use the old tools in a new way you're making the future, and that is a great feeling.