My sophomore year of high school, I took a photography course. It was strictly film-based. You learned how to use a 35mm SLR, develop the negatives, make contact sheets, develop prints, the whole shebang. I can quite distinctly remember my first attempt at rolling film onto the developing reel…in complete darkness. Even a minor sliver of light could threaten your undeveloped roll of film, so you had to learn how to remove the film roll from those little containers that I’m sure many of you still have in plastic bags in forgotten closets (my family certainly has a collection!) and transfer it onto a reel, based entirely on touch.

It was nerve-racking. I fumbled around, trying not to drop anything, trying to load the film quickly, trying not to feel claustrophobic, failing at all of the above. The walls of the small closet I worked in (one of three contained within the larger dark room in the high school, specifically outfitted to keep all light at bay) seemed closer than they really were. After only a few minutes, that to my mind felt 100 times longer, I had it! I double-checked everything was sealed up all tight and proper, and emerged from my little cave-like space to go about developing the roll.

Though an almost unsettling challenge that first time, I was enthralled with the end result.

After so much work to first fill my film with (hopefully) compelling moments, and then successfully develop those 24 little frames, it was exhilarating to hold a tangible result in my hand.

By today’s standards, mystery enshrouded the process. Today, we see an image immediately on the back of our cameras. Is everyone smiling? Is the exposure correct? Is everything in focus? We can gauge the result within seconds, and adjust our approach accordingly. With film, you have to embrace a certain element of surprise.

I purchased my first digital camera shortly after high school graduation and stopped shooting film almost entirely.

Until now.

A few weeks ago I purchased a Nikon FE, 35mm, SLR, film camera, circa 1978. It’s a small, sturdy machine, simple in design and virtually unbreakable (well so I’m told, I have a knack for breaking all types of machinery). I quickly bought a few rolls of basic, color film, loaded it up, and got to shooting. Here is what I came up with.

These are exactly as they came, straight from the lab that developed them. No tweaking or touch-ups. It’s a very raw, imperfect set. And to me, that’s kind of the point.

This experiment is about embracing constraints, learning how to work without instant feedback, and knowing how to use the tools at hand to produce the work you want.

I have a lot to re-learn about this medium. But I’m excited to give it a go.