Time is a Plastic Camera (Or Maybe Not. But Plastic Cameras Are At Least a Good Compromise)

by Gigi

I used to love to go to the darkroom to print black and white photographs. In addition to getting some great prints, the time spent in the quiet darkness was relaxing.

But somewhere along the way, the tools of Photoshop and the quality of digital cameras caught up to the detail I could get from making my own prints. I could no longer justify the inefficient time spent in the darkroom. (At right: darkroom or digital?)

Giving it up had to be done. I was done with design school, I was working full time, and I had gotten serious about writing. Something had to give. (Unlike Martha, I need sleep.)

I got myself a digital SLR camera and some cool lenses, and thought I was good to go.

But something was missing.

Did I really want to see exactly what a photo would look like the second I took it? Where was the mystery and anticipation in that?

I couldn't go back to regular 35mm, so what could I do? Medium format 120. And not the fancy kind. The sloppy fun kind.

I now have two plastic cameras: A Holga that takes square photos and allows light to sneak in through its duck-taped sides and gives each photo its own unique look; and a 35mm Lomo Fisheye camera that captures skewed images I never would have imagined.

So although I won't make it into the darkroom any time soon (too many edits to make and stories to write!), I've got my plastic cameras to keep the mystery of photography alive.