I discovered photography in college. I’d enrolled in a Community Journalism course, and one of the lessons the professor, Jock Lauterer, impressed on us was the idea that, at a community paper, journalists had to wear a lot of different hats.
Jock himself was a writer, editor, and perhaps most important to him, a photojournalist. Photography was a skill he believed that every reporter should have at least some small measure of exposure.
I’d never seriously used a camera before that class; I wouldn’t have known a light meter from a parking meter. But the assignment was to use a camera, any camera, to practice some photography fundamentals outside of class. Rule of thirds, zoom with your feet – basic mantras that still stick in my brain to this day.
I was shocked by how much I enjoyed photography. I took the pictures required for class, and kept going. My first camera was my dad’s old – even then – Pentax K1000, which I’ve still got somewhere, in some box that hasn’t been unpacked since the move to Colorado. The class ended, my practice continued. I went on a handful of photo walks with friends on the photography desk at the Daily Tar Heel. My graduation present was my very first digital camera: a point and shoot Canon Powershot (which my mother later “borrowed” and replaced with a definitely-not-as-good early Sony Cybershot).
Though I learned on film, I very quickly transitioned to digital. From the Powershot to a Rebel T2, from the T2 to a 7D, from the 7D to a Fuji XT-2, and so on and so on, to my current gear.
Early last year something started buzzing at the back of my mind: I wanted to take a step back and play around with some of these old film cameras. For me there’s something about the tactile nature of an old film body that’s lost with the technically (and optically) far superior mirrorless digital bodies. No shade on my Z8 – it’s still my primary camera. But I missed the chunk of mirrorslap that simply doesn’t exist on a modern camera.
Like with many of my other hobbies, I sped down the rabbit hole. I paid slightly-too-much for a Nikon FM3A (my dream camera, 20 years ago), and slightly less than expected for a sixty-year-old Leica M3. I bought black and white film and processing chemicals and developer tools, and I started exercising those slow-photography muscles I’d let atrophy for more than a decade.
That was a long preamble. I originally wanted to use this entry to simply post cleaned-up images from the first medium format film I’ve ever shot, captured on a Mamiya 645 I bought from a fantastic used camera store (Camera Works) in Colorado Springs. The film was developed via mail-in order with Mike’s Camera.
These pictures aren’t perfect. I’m still developing my own skills with film, adjusting my shooting style to account for restrictions I haven’t had to manage for years. But I’ve been having fun learning.
Salida Mike 