For as long as I have loved photography, there has always been something extra special about film. Not just the process of shooting film, instead, something more elemental. Very simply, I like the “look” of film. I like the frame borders, the sprocket holes, the type and numbers along the edges, the grain, the eventual scratches and fingerprints. The film aesthetic is something I play with in my work. I like to exaggerate the unique characteristics of film, especially pushing grain and contrast beyond the limits of acceptability. As I’ve ventured further away from straight photography, it is the intrinsic visual look of film that keeps me grounded in the medium. I have recently been exposing film in a motion picture camera, then utilizing the multiple frames as an opportunity to tell a different kind of story; short narratives through a sequence of images. I really enjoy making the choice of which frames to highlight from a longer strip of film. This attraction has now led to me sourcing 16mm film reels from Ebay. One reel was in pretty bad shape when it arrived this week. Warped, scratched and moldy; yet intact enough to allow me to play freely with the footage. So much to discover and ponder on this film. The anonymous, family home movie reel shows various locations; most likely highlights of a family vacation. The frames feature men and women in dress that looks like it is from the 1930s or 1940s. I wonder, who are these people? They are surely dead by now. How did this random reel of film travel from its original owner, through years of storage and neglect, to wind up for sale online in 2023, and somehow appearing in front of me under such randomly stumbled upon circumstances? I guess my attraction to the film aesthetic has created yet another divergent path for me to wander down. What discoveries await?

The line between moving pictures and still photography is thin, and vast at the same time. So much in common, and so much much unique to each. I have played with moving imagery throughout my life, in parallel yet separate lanes from my still photography. This week, some of those lines bot blurred, some of the lanes got crossed.

I took a film workshop this past Sunday, run by the cinematic renegades at Basement Films. I got to play with old 16mm movie film, culled from an archive of educational and industrial films. A few arms-lengths of old film, hand manipulated, then spliced to create a loop. Think of it as a handmade animated GIF.

There is something magical about film: the feel of it, the look of it, the tiny replications of reality. Even more so when laid out in strips, 24 frames making a second of moving imagery. Each frame its own sliver of time. Each frame its own still photograph.