Observations on doing something new
What six months of film photography has taught me
When you throw yourself into something new, you learn a lot about yourself. My most recent exploration has been with film photography, which is why I’ve been writing about it so much lately.
These thoughts on diving into something new have been swimming in my mind lately and I wanted to jot them down in no particular order:
When I stop to take a photo, especially with others around, I'm self-conscious. I'm interrupting the natural flow of things, which feels uncomfortable. I'm declaring that this moment matters—that I care enough to preserve it. It can be vulnerable and nerve-wracking.
Sometimes the anxiety of standing out prevents me from taking a photo (although I’m sure the world around me could care less). At first, I thought these feelings were a warning—maybe I should give it a rest if it was making me anxious. But now I realize I’m just living outside my comfort zone. Photography brings me joy and meaning, so I want to keep going even if it makes me nervous sometimes.
Every time I leave the house, I bring my camera. Better to have it than regret missing a shot. Simply carrying my camera opens my mind and heart to the possibility of capturing something worthwhile. Often, there is something special, and I never could have predicted it.
I notice my environment more—the light, the perspective, the mood, the people. I feel more awake in my daily life.
Less is more. When I was using a digital camera, I could take an infinite number of photos with different settings, look at the results immediately, adjust, and shoot again. With my film camera, I can't see the results right away. I carefully adjust the settings, take the photo, and hope. The moment passes, captured or not. When I finally see the results, I learn from my mistakes and apply those lessons to the next roll. This process has made me more invested in learning photography and more intentional with my choices.
There is great satisfaction in caring for something impermanent. My Nikon FG-20 is irreplaceable. Not only because of its sentimental value, but also because it’s 40 years old and parts aren’t easy to come by. Yesterday, I noticed that a screw had gone missing from the bottom casing. So I visited Scott’s Photo. Thankfully, they happened to have the right size screw on hand and they fixed it on the spot. The situation showed me how much I care about that camera and that I want to take better care of it because it’s not going to last forever.
I think some of these feelings and experiences are universal. It has helped to confide in friends who have invested their time in creative projects. The fact that others have felt these things in their own way has helped me keep going, which is why I’m sharing these reflections here.
Onward,
Corinne
I can relate with all the 6 points! Very nice