Yesterday I found myself searching for a new digital camera for an event I’ll be attending late this year. I was really hoping to find (both for thematic and nostalgia reasons) was a modern digital camera with analog-style physical interactions, like having to wind the film before you can take a picture.
I’m absolutely romanticizing it. Still, I can’t help but see my high school shooting process as meditative. I don’t remember specific events, but I distinctly recall the sensation of being on a photo trip. If I close my eyes, I can still see the darkened corners of the vignetted image in the viewfinder. I feel the two halves of the split microprism in the viewfinder slide by each other as I twist the focusing ring until they line up without a seam. I sense the tiny vibrations that cascade through the body of the camera and into my hands as I crank the film advance lever. Each push, pull, and twist guiding this complex machine fluidly into the exact state I want. And, as I exhale and depress the shutter button, I anticipate the clatter of mirror and leaf shutter that are just a moment away.
In the continual push towards digitization, I feel the loss of physical interactions that ground us in the moment. That make us sit with a passing thought for another breath. And, in doing so, that friction creates space for discernment and the opportunity to further reflect, filter, or refine.
