why film? part two

lomo lca+, 2013 

In part one of my investigation into my reasons for exclusively using film, I set up the questions surrounding my assumption that, generally speaking, film offers a closer representation of the real than digital technology. And there were a lot of questions, and a lot of contradictions. This surprised even me. It also led to a lot of introspective thought on my part, as I searched all the logic in my head to try to find answers. I've always known why I love film: its honesty. I just had to figure out why I so steadfastly believe that film and honesty are inextricably linked.

Before I go into my conclusions, I want to take a moment to explain why honesty in my photography is so important to me. Photography is, among other things, an art form. As such, creative people have long been pushing the medium - both with film and digital technologies - to produce wonderful, fantastical images that are very obviously not representations of reality. Some artists, such as Jeff Wall, employ meticulous staging and production techniques to challenge our very assumptions of truth in the image. All of these approaches to photography are valid. Many artists create brilliant, important work by presenting visual untruths.

In most of my work, however, I aim to capture actual truths. I mean this both in the journalistic sense, where my social and travel photography documents people and places as they exist at a moment in time, and in a more literal sense, where I aim to keep my (sometimes staged) portraits and press shots free of any post-production manipulation. It is the medium's ability to capture an image of reality, as Bazin discussed, that draws me to the camera again and again. And I think this implication of truth in the image, and particularly in photojournalism, is why we collectively feel so cheated when a journalistic image is exposed as a hoax, or even as a manipulated version of reality (such as the war photos of freelance photojournalist Adnan Hajj, which were revealed to be heavily doctored after being published globally via Reuters).

nikon f4, 2013 

But Greta, you might say, your multiple exposures don't represent truth! The world doesn't look like that! And you would be right in the sense that during the gig depicted in the above photo, for example, there were not two identical guitarists on the stage. However, in all my multiple exposures, each image within the frame is a representation of truth, and usually there is some 'real' connection between the exposures (for example, a person and the environment they're in, or, as above, the same person mere moments apart). Furthermore, the process of exposing such images - all within the camera, on film - is also keenly related to truth and authenticity. But more on that in part three.

Digital is just as capable of being honest with us as film is. There is no reason why a digital camera can't capture as much truth as a film camera can. And, as we have seen, film cameras (and film photos that have been digitally edited after the fact) are just as capable of telling untruths as digital cameras. So - back to the issue at hand - why do I (and others) more readily associate film with truth, and digital with deception? My reasoning can be separated into two distinct arguments: the psychological and the practical.

splitcam, 2013 

psychological factors

Most of us have grown up with scores of family photo albums. Those enormous tomes, with pages where the plastic sheets peel away to unleash faded prints laid over cut newspaper (lest they stick to the board), mapping out pieces of lives once lived. Some prints have rounded corners. Some are torn. Some have that strange textured surface, like a miniature grid. Maybe some are really old - cracked black and white wedding photos of great aunties, or baby portraits of Grandpa. There may be sepia, and dust marks or scratches. There may even be a few photos with strange multiple images because someone forgot to wind on the film. There will be dated fashions: long hair and crocheted bikinis of the seventies; smart hats and daytime gloves of the fifties; mullets and fluoro colours of the eighties. There are picnics, birthday parties (complete with Women's Weekly party cakes), camping trips, Christmas trees, grinning kids with missing teeth, dress-up days, first days of school, weddings, debutante balls, pregnant bellies, bassinets. All of these common events appear to create a distinct tapestry of life. Each family has a different history; each album is filled with an enormous array of stories unique to those lives.

But for all the myriad variations that exist from family to family and album to album, each of these exorbitantly heavy, dust-covered epics have something in common: when we look at the images within, we know that they are real. Mum did bake that swimming pool cake. Your sister did wear those fluoro leggings. Your grandpa was wearing a dress for his 1920s baby portrait. There was no Photoshopping when your parents got married in 1976. No-one airbrushed the pimples on your cousin's chin when he won that under-18s footy trophy in 1989. These photos show us life through the poor-quality lenses of our family's past.

diana, c. 2009 

holga, 2012 

holga, 2012 

It is for this reason that when we see the faded colours, the vignetting, the soft focus and/or the multiple exposures that are now synonymous with Lomography cameras and other analogue toy/plastic cameras, we feel that we can trust them more than, say, a glaringly flawless digital image. Whether it's conscious or not - and I suspect in most cases, it isn't - our attraction to analogue aesthetics is a rejection of the superficiality inherent in so much digital technology. We collectively crave a return to the real. I have no doubt that this accounts for the unprecedented popularity of Instagram - the retro aesthetic that the app employs combines with its primary function of taking 'instant' photos to present a modern-day version of the Polaroid; a real moment in time, captured in a few seconds and instantaneously broadcasted to the world, with no time for trickery (apart from the regimented filters, which in turn contribute to the psychological acceptance of truth in the image... get it?!).

nikon f4, 2013   

nikon f4, 2013 

nikon f4, cross-processed slide, 2011 

nikon f4, cross-processed slide, 2011 

To a lesser extent, the subtle analogue characteristics that are often present in 'professional' film cameras (such as high-end SLRs) function in the same way: the grain of a high-speed film, the complex saturation of a cross-processed slide film, the tiny specks of dust that attach to the negative during scanning, a carefully considered in-camera multiple exposure. Many of these things are sometimes considered to be imperfections, but to me, they are precisely the opposite; they are perfect because they denote the truth.

Coming up in part three: practical factors.

more from the beautiful wedding of sarah and creg (aka craig)

I recently posted ten unconventional wedding portraits from the wedding of my friends Sarah and Creg (I just can't bring myself to call him Craig, though for the record that is his name). Some of those images are pretty out there in terms of capturing something that is in fact really traditional. But I did actually take a lot of more photos, many of which are much closer to 'wedding photos' (but I still like to think they have something of a unique flavour). While I adore the oddball shots I posted last time, I wanted to share some of the others from the day, because the day was, and the photos are, very beautiful.

It's a special thing to be around when a group of really close girls prepare to send one of their own down the aisle, into a new chapter in life. There are so many quietly touching moments, whether it's the bride putting her shoes on, or drawing a diagram of the altar set-up.

These two shots are particularly gorgeous. Sarah looks so radiant interacting with her flower girl (and now niece). And the second shot shows Sarah embracing her mother for the last time as an unmarried person. In addition to depicting a lovely moment, I think the natural, warm colour tones make this photo pretty special.

I was staying at the same house as Creg the night before the wedding, and when I got up the morning of, I found the kitchen of this normally very busy household empty and exceptionally quiet. Except for him. Sitting at the computer, writing his vows. I just had to take the shot.

And then it happened! They got married. What a stunning couple.

The chapel and reception venue were on a hill that overlooked a beach sunset, which made for some excellent photo opportunities. The whole thing was very modest, in a perfect, charming way.

This is Creg and his best mate and best man, Andrew. Such a lovely photo. If you look closely, it's kind of out of focus. But I don't think it detracts from the image. In fact, it adds a lovely softness to it that almost suits the golden glow that the setting sun is bathing them with.

Then it came to one of favourite parts of weddings, in terms of both photographing them and partaking: the party. It's always a good time to get uninhibited shots of the guests, leading to some gorgeous, vibrant photos. The last one, of the groom and his men, is one of my highlights from this part of the event. It was late, everyone had had a big day and a few drinks. It's fitting, then, that there are closed eyes, funny faces and selective blurring. But it's still so beautiful because it captures the closeness, and the connection (or mateship), that obviously exists between these guys. And even though weddings are about two people making the ultimate connection, they are also, crucially, about celebrating the important connections you share with everyone in your life. And judging by the day they had, Sarah and Creg have many very special ones.

ten unconventional wedding portraits

When Craig and Sarah asked me to travel to Adelaide to be their 'official' wedding photographer, I kind of freaked out. I've taken photos at a wedding before, but never in any kind of official capacity. So many questions flew through my head: What if they don't like the results? What if my cameras break? What if I get the settings wrong? What if I catch the flu the week of the wedding? What if I panic and can't do the job?

Earlier this year I met with Craig and Sarah to talk about it. I expressed my reluctance but they assured me that they knew my style, loved my style, weren't after anything too conventional, were open to experimentation, and were happy to collaborate on ideas while also leaving creative control to me. I said I wasn't comfortable taking photos during the ceremony; they told me they would ask someone else to shoot that part. I told them I didn't like the idea of taking large family portraits, or photos of all the groomsmen holding up the bride (and other tacky cliches); they said they were absolutely happy not to have those photos. So I agreed, and my first paid wedding job was essentially underway.

They are both extremely creative people - Sarah is a marvellous illustrator and Craig an excellent musician - and it was this creative understanding, for lack of a better description, that sealed the deal for me. Being able to really experiment while shooting the wedding, and to have them not only accommodate it but wholeheartedly embrace it, was kind of a dream come true.

Having said all that, I have to confess that these first two shots were accidental! I was using a new camera for the first time and had the settings all wrong without realising. I thought they wouldn't work out at all and just wrote those ones off, but when I got them back I was thrilled and pretty amazed at the results. The complete lack of any detail gives them a gorgeous, dreamy feel. The top one especially is totally haunting. Without context, I wonder if you would even recognise it as a bride and groom? Probably just, with that full white skirt - but only just. I adore these shots and am so pleased to now know how to achieve them (intentionally).

It wasn't just accidental experimentation that took place; the rest of the images were absolutely intended to be as far as possible from your standard wedding photo.

Well this I am just in love with. The double exposure is classic Greta, if I do say so, but there is so much more to the image: the sun glare bathing the whole thing in muted gold while also concentrated on the couple, as though the light shines just for and on them; the clouds and the beach being visible but not outstanding; the very natural body language between the two - a lovely moment of everyday communication on a very extraordinary day.

And speaking of classic Greta... you know if you've ever read this blog before that I have a photographic foot fetish, so I insisted that they take off their shoes and let me see the feet in all their glory. And why shouldn't they be the star of the show? Don't they look wonderful? Sometimes I really do think that feet say just as much as, if not more than, any face.

Another dreamy, nondescript image. Wedding in the sky. With many of these beach photos I really had to try to work around the very harsh sun: it hadn't set enough to be soft and golden, so I ended up shooting a lot of silhouetted images. In a lot of cases, like this one, it was a good move.

I HAVE WANTED TO TAKE A PHOTO JUST LIKE THIS FOR AT LEAST TWO YEARS. It was a vision in my head that planted itself there back when I was experimenting with psychedelic palm trees, but until now I had never executed it. But here it is! Excellent outcome.

I don't love this one as much as some of the others, but it still holds interest because the bride and groom are in it, but only just visible. It's a great concept, but perhaps not as wonderfully executed as it could be. But a good basis for experimentation nonetheless.

I love absolutely everything about this photo. Craig gave a beautiful speech at the reception, and afterwards left it sitting on a bench, open just like that. His final words were his dedication to his new wife - said once to her, and once to everyone else as a prompt to raise glasses and toast her. And that is the essence of everything he said, of everything he felt and of the purpose of the day. Here is Craig's love for Sarah. I adore the selective focus, the muted, deep colours, and the stunning grain. And it is hands down one of my favourite portraits of the day. Moving even further from the feet concept, this demonstrates to me how a stunning, powerful portrait doesn't need to include any people at all.

This is another of my favourites. I'm actually quite in love with it, and it never fails to make me feel and react when I see it. Some context: Craig had just removed the garter from Sarah's leg using his teeth, and it was hanging from his mouth. Again, a stunning unconventional portrait of new husband and wife. The composition, the soft focus, the colours, the grain: it all just works.

Perhaps this is the most conventional of all of these, but it's still quite unusual in the sense that it's not posed, you can't see their faces, and it's so dark that you're not sure of exactly what's going on. In fact, they were walking out of the reception and about to leave to spend their first night together as husband and wife. So it's really the last anybody saw of them - the image we were left with. In that sense, it's lovely. And the dark background adds an unusual element of mystery. Definitely not a word used to describe most wedding photos.

Of course, I did actually take some photos where they were both fully visible. Plus a lot more than that. But in the interest of diversity, here are the experimental shots. The ones that Sarah and Craig encouraged me to take, and the ones that we all love to bits - in some cases even more than the conventional shots (you know, like the ones with their faces). I am just so grateful that it was a required part of what they wanted. It really makes me feel pretty strongly that when it comes to my photography for others, the best results come with open minds and willing collaboration.