Always Make Your Way Back To The Material - The Medium Is The Message
Time traveling and infinite surprises of film photography
It was Ansel Adams who said, “you don’t take a photograph, you make it” and it was Dorothea Lange who shared, “the camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see.
I remember the first time I got my hands on a film camera — I was 15.
I grew up in a home that had attic, that was only accessible through a retractable pull down ladder. The rope pulley hung from the ceiling and I remember it would graze the top of my head every time I passed beneath. Our house was colonial and aged over a hundred years, which meant that most things creaked. Sometimes depending on the season, the floors and walls would also whistle, and it was not uncommon for us to feel “other” presences lingering around. Thus, adventures in the attic were not something any of us kids particularly enjoyed. However, like most forgotten spaces, treasures could be found if one could muster the patience and courage to venture into the unknown.
My Dad’s 1978 Canon A-1 was one such discovery. It was buried inside a musty gold Kodak sling bag, gathering dust. I had never held a camera before — and immediately it felt at home in my hands. I loved the weight of its body, the slight patinated metal, the sound of the shutter snap. I asked my Dad if I could use it, “of course, have fun” he said. Almost immediately I think he regretted his words, and from that moment on I shot a roll of film every day for year.
Observing light and its textures while making images became much more than an art practice. Capturing photographs taught me the art of blending into my surroundings, it invited me to experiment with alchemical processes, to witness the ways in which images emerge from light sensitive materials.
Photography for me, has always been a means of playing with the watery nature of time. I have always sought to create images that encapsulate that feeling of being “in”between.
Over the past few weeks, I have sifting through my archive and I wanted to take a beat and reflect on a single roll of film that I shot over a 2 year period. This roll is the most unique series of imagery that I have ever been able to create — and it happened very unintentionally. I do not recall when I loaded this film into my camera, but for context it occurred sometime pre-pandemic. This camera journeyed with me to Mexico City, where I observed the incredible architecture of one of my favorite buildings in the world, the Museo Nacional de Antropología. We travelled together by car, during the pandemic, throughout the American southwest discovering Zion National Park, Bryce Canyon, and Moab. A year went by, restrictions began to ease and I was able to slip out of LA and visit the Oaxacan coast, where I encountered world renown art residency and cultural foundation, Casa Wabi. A month later I found myself in Hydra, a place that more than anywhere else, has helped me unearth my vision as an artist.
After Greece, this roll, 36 images was finally complete. I arrived home and sent it off with a few other underwater disposable cameras to be developed, not remembering or even considering how long it had been incubating.
A few days go by, and the photo lab calls.
“Uh, Ms. Manson we just wanted to let you know that there must have been some kind of malfunction with your camera and the black and white roll you sent us seems slightly corrupted. We developed and scanned it as requested, but we just wanted to give you a heads up that the images are slightly off… you will see what I mean when you receive the scans.”
I hung up feeling a bit worried but also curious — I had no idea what he meant, I had never had problems with this camera before. Another day goes by and the scans were uploaded. I received the file and downloaded immediately.
To my awe and surprise, somehow the entire roll was double exposed and slightly off its internal alignment track — creating a highly nuanced blended effect in each frame. A complete and total stacking of memories. This roll of film folded time.
When I look back on these moments, I am astounded on the gifts that blossomed in response to a very long creative process. The duration of this particular narrative and its “deep time,” enabled me to document such an interesting visual narrative accidentally. It's as if the film itself was a character in my story, creating impressions and intertwining my memories in a way that could never be replicated.
As I write, I am also seeing how the camera has created a kind of layering of impressions and I am considering the layering of our memories. Each image in this series has recorded the echos of many places — allowing me to observe the blended nature of a cycle of time.
It is my hope one day that I will create a book with these photographs, honoring this formative period and the way in which it was captured. Until then, I hope you enjoy and I encourage you to consider your first moments with a camera. How did it inform the ways in which you capture, move through, and experience the world around you and within you?
Xj.