I have been going pretty deep into an experimental stage with my photography as of late. Maybe it’s the fucked up reality we are living through, but I have felt a creative liberation of sorts. Whether it’s taping a pinhole lens onto my dSLR, or shooting with plastic cameras, it has helped me find a release from the pendulum swings between boredom and anxiety.

Recently I shot with a Holga camera, even choosing to run a roll of 35mm film through it, to further push myself away from predictability. This week I took it one step further, digging out an old Diana clone (a Windsor, precisely) which is an even cruder, plastic camera that takes 120 film. The Diana and its clones have an almost mythical reputation among film photographers, and as you can see from the contact sheet above, it lives up to its reputation.

Maybe I’ve been on a lucky streak lately, or maybe I’ve finally learned from numerous past mistakes, but the results I’ve been getting with these cameras have been very satisfying. I think I have finally figured out the correct combination of film speed, focus setting, and of course, using copious amounts of black gaffer tape to control light leaks. What I enjoy most about shooting with these cameras is the unpredictability of it all. I honestly don’t know when the roll begins and ends, since I tape over the film counter window, so I arbitrarily lose a shot or two at the start and end of each roll. Framing and composition is a guessing game, as is exposure. But that is where the magic truly lies. Pulling a roll of just-developed film from the processing tank is always a wonderful moment of surprise. As long as there is some kind of image appearing, I consider the whole exercise a success.

Perhaps the unpredictability of shooting film in this manner is the perfect metaphor for our current times, and I am grateful for the possibility of some magical moments to occur.