My dad’s least favorite of my hobbies is taking photos on film. He laughs at the idea of regressing from a powerful smartphone camera to the type of single-use Fujifilm plastic camera or cheap film camera (a short-lived phase, brought to an untimely end when mine broke) he remembers using decades earlier. I’ll admit that the money spent processing the rolls at a lab in California (thanks, https://thedarkroom.com/) could definitely be better spent elsewhere, but I have a job now, so I’m letting it slide as a personal indulgence.
I just got photos back from the disposable camera I used this fall. Beyond just richer depth of color or an interestingly grainy texture, I think the reason I keep returning to film is the joy of that feeling of delayed gratification – forgetting what memories were captured and returning to them months later, collected together in a condensed album. 27 exposures per camera forces me to be deliberate in what I want to remember, a very different experience than my typical approach of pointing my phone camera at whatever subject and clicking away. I’ve been enjoying the process of taking a few photos of my friends at various senior-year occasions and getting to revisit those days later on.
This week, a pretty self-indulgent post: a trip down memory lane with a collection of disposable camera / film photos I’ve taken, stretching from the summer before freshman year to two weeks ago (purely for fun, I have no photography knowledge).
September 2022: Friends at the homecoming football game. Taken shortly before a 5’2 freshman boy started harassing us, an experience that I could have done without. I love this picture, though. It feels very classically high school (notice how zeroed in on the game the boys are behind Meg and Grace).
July 2019: Marquette, Michigan, a family trip during the summer. None of these pictures are edited, so I don’t know how the colors turned out so vivid. Marquette is in the upper peninsula, so the water was gorgeous — near where this picture was taken, people were cliff-jumping. I’m an especially big fan of the little red house peeking out from the trees in this picture, though I’m not sure where the little girl in the black dress appeared from.
July 2021: Munising, Michigan, in the upper peninsula once again. Munising has a population of around 2,000, so spending a week there was really peaceful. This fish and chips food truck came up with glowing reviews when we were searching for where to eat nearby. Some of the best fries I’ve ever had. My dad and I also met the eponymous Ron sitting outside next to the water (he was very nice).
February 2022: Friends surprised me for my 17th birthday. I found out later that they took careful measures to keep me in the dark, which must have worked because I had absolutely no clue (could also be attributed to me being gullible). On a more sentimental note, I was really moved and am so grateful for my friends and the effort they put in for me — including figuring out the physics of hanging up this balloon backdrop.
October 2022: At school on a weekend, having inexplicably decided to take the “fantasy” out of our fantasy football league. Learned that football is perhaps not the career for me.
Winter 2021: Taken on Lomo Lady Gray film, during my black-and-white film phase. This picture definitely evokes memories of sophomore year spent at home, which looking back on was not a fun time at all, but I remember sitting on my driveway with Meg and Ria for some much-needed conversational interaction.
July 2021: Nothing much to be said about this, I just thought the way the light filtered through the trees was pretty.
February 2022: At Celina’s house, when Meher came back from Texas to visit. I’m pretty sure this was the day Kathryn spent 45 minutes attempting to teach us how to play an extremely elaborate Chinese card game, the rules of which I’m still fuzzy on, but this has reminded me that I want to learn the game.
July 2021: Munising once again, on this stunning beach. Featuring a sandy hill we walked down, dotted with faraway people if you look closely. This is one of my favorites from the trip because I think the grainy texture feels a little melancholy, and the colors manage to capture how gorgeous the water was.
February 2022: Grace and Izzy on my birthday! Look how adorable they are. This picture reminded me that I told Izzy my dad would make her guacamole again and never followed through. Izzy, if you’re reading this, I promise I’ll make it happen.
December 2021: Louisa and Celina, at dinner after we spent an afternoon volunteering downtown in the freezing cold. Santa was actually so mean, but I look back on this day fondly because we watched the cinematic tour de force that is Sing 2 afterwards.
March 2020: Another quarantine relic. The lighting in this picture is awful and it’s strangely somber, but I just wanted to take the opportunity to defend Cheerios. Not the most exciting of cereals, but I promise that a simple bowl with blueberries is life-changing.
August 2019: Summer before freshman year, seems so long ago now. My dad, brother, and I spent an afternoon in the city. It wasn’t actually dark in the room I took this picture, but I really like how extreme the contrast turned out (a hint of tenebrism, to steal an art history term?).
As much as I’ve enjoyed my disposable cameras, I think my new goal is to invest in a real film camera (or try and dig up one of my parents’ old ones?) sometime this year, as a more sustainable long-term option. Hope you enjoyed my little nostalgic excursion, thanks for reading!
Hi Ivy,
I really like this post! The fact that your finger is in like three of the pictures made me laugh a little, but a lot of these are really well taken. It’s always exciting to hear you got your film back since you always blind us with the flash and none of us can see the result until like three months later, but they never disappoint. I think my favorite of these is the one from Marquette, the colors, the lighting, everything is absolutely gorgeous. It honestly looks like something out of the Hudson River School (to steal an art history term). I also really like the Cheerio photo because I remember seeing it for the first time on your spam or something a couple years ago and thinking you’d gone crazy. I’m a little in shock that it’s been two and a half years since you took that picture; it’s just kind of wild to think about how time flies. I think because taking and being able to see these photos is such a process, the memory they evoke when finally viewed them is pretty unmatched. I’m glad there’s someone in the friend group who’s willing to go through the trouble of taking film photos. Your dad needs to pick a new least favorite hobby. This is in contention for the top three best Ivy Chen hobbies.
¡Hola Ivy!
I absolutely love the aesthetic of this post!! From the uneven vignettes to the faded sepia-toned colors, there is just something so refreshing about the imperfection of shooting on film. I hate to be all
“technology these days”, but it seems like every new digital camera that comes out gets better and better and recreating a scene perfectly – so seeing anything shot on film is always like a breath of fresh air.
One of my favorite photographers that shoots on film is Brian Chorski (https://twitter.com/brianchorski?lang=en ). He shoots on 35 mm film; his photos are mostly atmospheric, bay-area-based, slice-of-life stills. Very desktop background worthy. I also like Robert Frank’s work. He’s a Swedish photographer from the 20th century that traveled across America after WWII. His photos (all in black and white, kind of like a jack-of-all-trades Ansel Adams) are very intimate, candid depictions of life in America at the time.
I’ve always wanted to get better at photography (that peaked this summer when my dad gave me a very rudimentary photography crash course and I finally learned what ISO means). I’m planning on spending my senioritis-infused second semester on getting really good at a bunch of random things, so maybe then I’ll pick up my Dad’s camera again.
Hey Ivy,
I am in absolute awe of your film pictures . I find that pictures are able to remind us of the raw vulnerability in each moment , so much more clearly than words or foggy memories do. I truly understood your words, “I think the reason I keep returning to film is the joy of that feeling of delayed gratification – forgetting what memories were captured and returning to them months later, collected together in a condensed album.” So many times, my dad gets annoyed at me when I tell him that I have to buy more film. Other than making my wallet cry with its astronomical expenses, film is undeniably inconvenient.. Having to go through extra airport security, not knowing which shots will turn out well, the ever-so present anxiety of having your film overexposed by a dash of sunlight, having to transfer the photos onto your phone. Yet, each time my dad asks my why I still do it, it is the gratification in the wait that I explain to him. I keep coming back to my adored Pentax K100 because it is the anticipation, the unknown which makes the developed pictures all the more valuable, all the more beautiful. Thank you for sharing your pictures!
Ivy, the second I saw the topic I was excited to respond to your post. I am grateful to be a part of some of your disposable camera photo dumps, and I found myself nodding along as I read. Your description of “delayed gratification” is the best way to describe it, and as I recently received the photos you sent me I was surprised, I had forgotten some of the moments and thought back at them fondly. It feels different than simply looking back at photos in your camera roll because it’s seeing something for the first time, but from the past.
I love the way you so vividly came back to these memories, of friends, of places, and the beauty of these moments shines through the photos and your descriptions. The photo of trees from July 2021 was stunning.
Also, I saw your note about your dad’s guacamole. I have also thought about this from time to time, I am looking forward to this.
Also, I liked the Cheerios photo. I still can’t believe you like those though.
Honestly, I always thought I loved the film because of the way it appeared, but I never considered how the wait made it so special. I might grab my own disposable camera for this purpose. I loved this post, Ivy.