Playing With a Film Camera
Black&White Double Exposed Photos [120mm Film]
Soft Play - On Learning About Softness
I had made a plan to stop talking about myself and write more about photography. Now that some time has passed, I am not sure I can talk about photography without writing about myself.
Over the Christmas holidays, whilst I was with my partner in a magical and isolated place in Serra da Estrela (the highest mountain plateau here in Portugal) my Nikon F2 stopped working. Literally, in the freezing cold, on top of a big rock, just after I had put the film in, it stopped working.
I was heartbroken, I was in such despair I honestly doubted my own sanity: I was there in this amazing place with my favourite human, the sun was shining, we were on top of a mountain looking at the most beautiful landscape and yet I felt helpless. Just like my Nikon, I too felt suddenly interrupted.
Thinking about it I realised that being away from home and discovering new places has always happened through some kind of lens for me. The camera has helped me observe and remember, but more than that it has been a tool to become familiar with places, to feel comfortable, and bring order, like arranging your clothes in the wardrobe of a hotel room, or hanging your favourite poster in your first dorm.
And so I sat down on a rock outside the chalet we were staying in, by the waterfall, and I wrote a poem. I wrote a silly poem about all the colours and the images that were filling my heart and eyes with joy, just like I would have made in a photo.
I had almost forgotten about this.
Once back in Lisbon, since I had to send the Nikon for repair, I picked up my “play” cameras: there is a Nikon Zoom 300, with the most hostile viewfinder, that belonged to my grandad, an AgfaClack and a automatic Revue both bought at a flea market in Berlin for less than 10 euro.
Moving away from my “serious” camera has brought an element of lightness, not just in taking the photographs but also in judging (or not judging) the results. It has allowed me to be more free, to experiment. It has given me that softness I have wondered about for so long.
Before this moment I don’t think I had really understood what it takes to be soft. And by being soft I mean being comfortable but focused, being open without moving away from what we want. Playing with a new tool, moving away from things related to my “art”, has allowed me to experience this. That need to strive for perfection and prove myself, that I am in control of things, floated away and left a space for free play, a desire to explore and experiment: pure curiosity.
Welcoming the unpredictable, the chaos, letting go of the need for control, seems to me, what embodies softness.
A couple of weeks ago I received some prints I bought from a photographer — Ankit Banerjee. I discovered his work on Instagram and connected with it. I wanted to support him and decided to buy his prints. I saw in this purchase an act of faith, that as I connected to his work people will connect to mine, making the uncertainties and struggles worth it.
As I opened the parcel and saw the prints I started crying. It felt silly and unexpected, but somehow looking at these stunning analogue prints on fiber based paper I could not help but feel the pain of having put myself through useless negativity and doubt. And I felt like a hard shell of mistrust had lifted, leaving my entire body... soft.
A similar feeling rose in receiving the beautiful logo work a friend did for me (you can admire Emma Philip’s work on my homepage). I cried for all those moments of stubborn self inflicted blindness to beauty and joy. I felt a certain heaviness lifting away... and the tears just pouring out.
The love that artists put into their work can be revealed and touch someone in such a direct and simple way: as long as we are willing to stay soft and open to receive this connection.
At the same time, to allow ourselves to do things we love just for play liberates us from expectation and allows us to explore and be curious. I’ve recently started to experiment with natural dyeing. It is just play for me but is also everything I believe in — using food waste to make something beautiful in an accessible and simple way. And at the same time it is enriching my knowledge of colours and materials, something I might be able to use one day in my photography.
More importantly, it is bringing to the surface my “little me”. That distant memory of playing with colours and mixing them to get new tones, the aw of being a child. And the more “little me” gets to the surface the more I am pushed to do other things she liked to do. I even found a friend to go roller skating with!
The importance of play in the sometimes exhausting and uncertain journey of growing up is protecting our innocence, preserving our ability to receive, and to be soft. It takes more than being hopeful, and it is absolutely nothing like being naive, it consists of an active effort to keep our heart open so we can meet people with love, so we can see beauty.
Everyone has gone through some kind of hardship and everyone has arrived to a point where it is just easier to think that “magic” is simply not there, that our dreams are not going to come true. I’ve done that and then built this very precise idea of how success, safety or love look like and I made it impossible to find in reality. This rigidity has cost me.
Other people's ability to put their love in their work, as well as playing with the camera has brought back that feeling of believing in magic, a certain sweet sensation of relaxing and being soft. It has reminded me of that feeling of imagining something you really want as a child: although it is not there, I can feel the happiness and I somehow believe it’s going to happen.
I get now what being soft means.
More about this journal entry.
All the photos have been shot with an Agfa Clack on a 120 mm black&white Fomapan 400 ISO in Lisbon. Most of them are the result of a double or triple exposure. For some of them I’ve used a tripod. These are negative scans I made myself, no edits were applied.
I would like to thank the “co-founders” of A Collective Journal, my friends and eclectic human beings Alina (AMAVI Coaching) and Chrischa (The Sensual Journal) for giving me the opportunity to be vulnerable, grow, and learn with them. I am incredibly grateful for the space we’ve created together to share our thoughts and feelings with absolute honesty and compassion.
I would also like to thank Tessy for accompanying me in one of my playful photo walks. She is also the expert finger that released the shutter (multiple times) for the some of the images where I am appearing. I am grateful to have found in her a friend and fellow photographer, a source of inspiration and learning — tessymorelli.com
A Collective Journal is a regular email journal by founding members Alina, Chrischa and Francesca. Our backgrounds are in sociology, art, writing, photography and marketing, and we all have a passion for creativity, mindfulness and making this world a better place!
This email magazine was born from the idea of sharing our knowledge, motivation and energy with you – conveniently in your mailbox. We believe in the power of collective endeavour and in a world that is based on the idea of "together". This is our contribution to it.