In the 21st century film photography world we spend countless hours combing through forums, watching videos, reading articles (getting a bit self-aware here), and having conversations with fellow photographers, all to figure out what gear we should drool over next, or what niche camera will be smart to buy before they all vanish from the market. This tendency for gear obsession has recently reached a breaking point with me.

This article is the result, and it will combine a bit of review, a bit of opinion, and a bit of philosophical rambling. Hopefully, at the conclusion, you will come away refreshed and with a bit of clarity (like I have).

I will begin by laying out the gear that I used while on my journey toward centering my photographic soul.

First, the Nikon F. What can I say that has not been said already about this important piece of photographic history? I know that James reviewed it many years ago, and it’s been mentioned by some of the other writers of Casual Photophile several times since. For my purposes, I’ll lay it out as simply as possible; this camera, compared to what came out later in the Nikon F lineage, is as simple as you can possibly get.

The Nikon F is like an old Toyota Land Cruiser, it has the minimum features that you need, and that’s it. The camera is as utilitarian an SLR as any that you could possibly find. That being said, it has made some of history’s most important photographs.

The Nikon F went into space, it trekked through the Arctic, and it even saved stopped a bullet from ending Don McCullin’s life in Cambodia. This camera is not only the epitome of simplicity, but it also represents a quality of build and longevity that hasn’t been seen in modern camera systems in quite some time.

Nikon F - The Camera That Changed Everything

If there’s one camera that’s been a constant presence throughout my years as a photographer and writer, it is Nikon's first SLR.

Next, I want to talk about my choice of lens. Why a 50mm? Simple. Everyone’s first SLR almost always comes with a 50mm lens attached to the body. It’s the standard focal length from the 1930s through today (though there is some argument to be made that the “standard” lens is changing to a wider angle these days).

Okay, but why the 50mm f/2? Why not a faster, fancier lens? Most of the 50mm lenses that would’ve come attached to SLRs in the film era would have been the faster, ubiquitous f/1.8. The spendy among us might have even splurged on the f/1.4 gem. But not me. I wanted my back-to-basics lens to be as bare bones as possible. So, it was the Nikkor 50mm f/2, specifically.

But while I admittedly chose Nikon’s slowest 50mm lens, that doesn’t mean that I chose the worst one optically, not by any stretch. The Nikkor 50mm f/2 is an overlooked, underrated piece from the legendary line of Nikkor manual focus lenses. There is something of a cult following around this lens, and the people like me who are a part of this small group have a tremendous love for the optical characteristics this lens offers.

The Nikkor 50mm f/2 was introduced in 1959, the same year as the Nikon F. It first debuted with a concave front element, as it was a carry over from the Nikon S rangefinder line of lenses. These lenses can be easily identified by the writing on the front of the lens, with 5cm being the indicator in place of the later common 50mm. No notable changes were made until 1972, when multi-coating was introduced to the glass.

In 1974, the close focusing distance was lessened from 0.6m (about 2ft) to 0.45m (1.5ft). When Nikon entered the AI era in 1977, the writing was on the wall for this lens with Nikon’s optical engineers. Then, in 1979, the 50mm f/1.8 Nikkor was introduced, promptly ending the twenty-years-long production run of the Nikkor 50mm f/2.

The optical formula of the 50mm f/2 is comprised of six elements in four groups, and this it retained throughout its entire production. It also has the smallest aperture range of the Nikkor 50mm lenses, with a minimum aperture of only f/16 and maximum at f/2. All other Nikkor 50mm lenses have f/22 as the minimum.

The aperture diaphragm consists of six blades, which is unusual in the Nikkor realm, since all of the other Nikkor lenses were made with an odd number of blades, with seven or nine being the most common. The bokeh produced by this six aperture bladed system has been described as “hexagonal” which is most certainly true, and I must say, for someone like me who doesn’t normally pay particular attention to the mushy, squishy background, I was thoroughly surprised by how nice this lens renders that space. I have seen people here and there online refer to this lens as the “Japanese Summicron” and I don’t think that I can disagree. Yes, Leica lords, there is a potential rival to the 50mm Summicron that is so beloved by M users, but I don’t think that sentiment is meant to be construed in that manner. I think what that moniker means, at least to me, is that what this lens lacks in aperture performance, it makes up for in sharpness and contrast.

The overall rendering characteristics of the lens itself is marvelous. It’s sharp, contrasty where it needs to be, and it portrays an overall classic touch to photographs that I don’t think many lenses can offer.

Finally, to round out the roll call, what back-to-basics film did I use?

When I was pondering this decision by looking at what film I had in my stock, the answer soon made itself clear. How much more basic can you get than Tri-X? Not just any roll of Tri-X, an expired roll of Tri-X Pan. I won’t get into how to shoot expired film, James already put in his two cents about the one stop for every decade rule in an earlier article. Since expired black and white film holds up better than expired color film, I simply decided to use the Sunny 16 method, shoot the film at its box speed of 400 and be on my way.

You may ask: Why Tri-X? My answer to that: Why not? Tri-X is old faithful, it’s tried and true, it’s the film that photographers will unanimously swear by (and I say all of this as a massive purveyor of the TMAX emulsion). Tri-X is the one film that you can count on for any kind of shooting. At box speed, this film is contrast heavy, yet still retains shadow details. Pushed two stops, the contrast increases significantly and that signature Tri-X look is on full display. There’s nothing fancy with Tri-X and that’s why I chose it. Its long lasting legacy as one of Kodak’s most enduring film stocks is unmatched, which is kind of bittersweet since I don’t hear many people outside of a certain age group talk about it too often.

Shooting a Twenty-Year-Old Roll of Kodak Supra 100 Film

James shoots an expired, twenty-year-old roll of Kodak Supra 100, an ultra-fine grain, high saturation color negative film.

Alright, by now, you may have noticed a building theme with what I’ve chosen to be the focal point. Yes, you would be right, everything I’ve talked about so far has been described as simple, utilitarian, or “just works”. None of those are bad things; quite the opposite. While I was out shooting this roll of Tri-X not once did I have a second thought about any of the images I took. I did what I had set out to accomplish; I focused on my surroundings, composed the photographs I saw as they happened, clicked the shutter, and on to the next.

One could describe this as a liberating experience. This is what photography (film or digital) should be all about; composing, waiting, deciding, clicking the shutter, and moving onto the next photograph. The purity of the process, being present, listening to the camera’s mechanical movements, feeling the weight of the camera body in your hands or on your shoulder while you carry it through the world. This is zen my fellow camera-holics.

It was only through experiencing this unique sort of camera clarity that I realized what I was struggling with in my photographic universe. Like most people, I’ve acquired, sold, and even traded dozens of cameras along the way. I’ve had several 35mm systems and several medium format systems, and I’ve even had them all at one time. But having multiple camera systems, no matter the format, have never helped me make photographs any easier. As I acquired more and more cameras, not only did I suffer from less shelf space, but my ability to grow into the photographer that I wanted to become was actually hindered by my gear acquisition syndrome.

You may be wondering, why randomly bring up G.A.S. in the middle of an article talking about going back to basics? Well, simple – I needed to force myself out of my comfort zone to see my own weaknesses. My weaknesses were within my own mind.

I’ll explain – in my quest for gathering a small group of SLRs that can do it all across different camera bodies, why couldn’t I just find an SLR that can do everything that I need out of the several that I have and downsize? I know everyone is different in this matter, but when it comes to gear, I do not like having gear that will mostly live on a shelf. I use my gear and I expect to get full use out of it as it was intended. Ultimately, these are professionally crafted tools. Some, I will concede, are collector’s pieces; looking at you Lenny Kravitz Edition Leica owners.

After writing the first draft of this article, I decided to take this moment of clarity and cleanse myself of the excessive gear that has plagued me. I have sold all of my 35mm Nikon bodies; Nikon F included. Why then, would I dedicate an entire article to a camera that I no longer own? I wanted to share my experience with using the most basic camera body and lens, a combination that allowed me to experience pure photography and helped lead to this moment.

There are some things the Nikon F lacks that could have enhanced the experience altogether, but it was only when shooting with it did I realize that these features could have actually refined my process of making photographs. I went through all of this to find out that I don’t actually need a library of gear to make the work I desire. Some people do, and more power to them. But for the other people who are like me and can’t stand to have an abundance of gear, this journey of going back to the bare minimum to realize what I realistically need for my arsenal, in this case a 35mm camera, was much needed and welcomed.

My 35mm slate is officially blank. Where to now? Do I find the end all, be all for my personal preferences? Do I switch over to an entirely new system altogether? Will James let us exclusively review large format gear? Tune in next time for another gear talking, shutter clicking, lens turning episode of Casual Photophile.

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

The post Back to Basics with a Nikon F, 50mm f/2, and a roll of Tri-X appeared first on Casual Photophile.

But this was the California Zephyr. The biggest, baddest train of all Amtrak trains. I was on the second day of my four-day train trip from New York City to San Francisco.

I snuck a look at his shirt. It read, “I would rather be on a train right now.” Certainly on theme, but he was on a train. The logic confused me, but his expertise was crystal clear. This wasn’t a man of the seas. Not a man of the air. No, no, no. He was a fellow of the tracks.

“Where ya headed?” I asked with a big grin. Big because I needed him to see that I was smiling by my cheeks, considering the whole mask situation. I was on my third grey mask of the trip.

I truly didn’t care all too much where he was headed. I just cared about the distance. If he were an over-nighter, I would only have my single seat to spread across to sleep when night came. That’s how the last night went. I woke up somewhere in Delaware with a pain in the left side of my neck, so I leaned my head to the right and fell back asleep. I woke up a few hours later in Toledo with pain in the right side of my neck.

“Osceola,” he replied.

I didn’t know where that was. I stared out the window as I figured out how to ask tactfully. Maybe ask if he is heading home for the holidays. Get him talking, maybe another city will drop. Maybe give it a minute and angle toward the window, turn the brightness on the phone all the way down, and Google it. It’s rude to insinuate you want the person next to you gone so you could have some more legroom. On planes, that is understood. On trains, not so much. After all, I chose coach. I chose to be a broke college student riding in the cheap seats.

“How far is that?” I blurted out.

Well, game’s over. Off on the wrong foot. Guess he won’t offer to pick me up something from the snack cart when he goes. God forbid I have to ask to sneak out to use the bathroom. My seat might as well be a waterbed for the night.

Turns out, Osceola was five hours away. He was visiting his family back in Des Moines for the holidays. He had no clue how long he would stay; it depended on if the pandemic took his work remote. He worked in the donations and gifts department at Northwestern, where he had graduated a couple of years earlier. He went to study music, but the pandemic halted his hopes of performing full-time.

And then it was my time to shine. Be impressed with me, I demanded.

No, seriously. This is what I said: “I’m taking this train all the way until it ends in Emeryville, California. I started yesterday morning in New York City. Went down to D.C. and transferred onto another train to get to Chicago.”

That’s badass, I assured myself as the words trickled out.

The camera? Oh, glad you asked. I am a journalist. A student journalist. No, strike that. A freelance journalist. That’s the fit. And I was photographing America from the train window.

“Crossing the Mississippi River is always pretty. But I think it may be dark by then,” he said with a slight sadness as if to tell me to try again next time.

I wanted to turn to him and say that I couldn’t care less about what passed by that smudged window. When I booked this ticket in the spring, I had been holed away in my Yale dorm room in what seemed like a never-ending quarantine. Staring at four undecorated walls, grabbing my lunch in plastic containers, and logging into my computer to learn the history of Eastern Europe over Zoom.

And then one day, Amtrak slid into my email. Two hundred dollars to ride across the country. Live the good life. See the pretty mountains of Colorado, the deserts of Utah, and the corn of Indiana.

My student credit card had more than that amount. I was a 20-year-old in isolation about 1,000 miles from my home in rural Mississippi. And to fix that, to go from spending my free time hitting a golf ball down a plastic putting green by my door, to seeing the Colorado Rockies, I had only to take on more debt?

The trip started with a two-hour train ride from New Haven, Connecticut, where I attend college, to New York City, where the adventure would *officially* begin.

From New York City, I would take a train to Washington D.C. Then I would go from D.C. to Chicago, and from Chicago to San Francisco. All total, I would be on trains for four days.

With me, I had a backpack with necessities and a duffel bag’s worth of clothes for the winter break I would have after the journey. What were the necessities, you might ask?

One extra large jar of creamy peanut butter. A bag of pretzel crisps. Seven cliff bars. Well, six and a half… I ate one while waiting on the Uber to the train station. A journal, two books, a laptop, various chargers, adapters, and SD card readers. And a camera — a FujiFilm X-Pro 3 with a 23mm prime. The FujiFilm is my workhorse. Its small form factor and film simulations make it a joy to use. The Canonet? Always have to have a film camera, even though I never used it on the trip.

Stranded in West Virginia

“This is where I die, you know,” my seatmate nudged me as the train ground to an unexpected halt in wooded rural, West Virginia, at around midnight.

I gave him a quizzical look.

“I’m Black, and this is how horror movies start,” He told me, “and the Black guy always dies first in horror movies.”

It was the first words he had spoken to me since our rocky beginning. As I stepped on the train, the conductor gave me a seat assignment and said, “All by yourself,” which I thought meant I had the two seats in my row alone. I was wrong, if you travel with a partner, you can sit with them the whole time. Traveling solo? Random seatmates the whole way.

I was taking my time to get situated in my seat when he tapped me on the back and said “Hi. I am sitting here,” in one of those “please hurry up” voices. We hadn’t talked since.

But now, after my laughter had awoken nearly the whole car, we were best friends.

“Don’t tell my wife,” he told me a couple of minutes later as he reached into his bag.

Unsure of what to think, I just looked at him and gave one of those half-smiles, a worried agreement.

He pulled out two McDonald’s Filet-O-Fishes.

“She hates them,” He laughed.

I would learn a lot about this man. About how he was shot in New Jersey when someone broke into his home. About how it wasn’t so bad because he got some months off work to recover and spend with his daughter. How he laughingly purchased some “cheaper-than-usual” birthday gifts for her following the George Floyd protests in Chicago.

And about how he avoids planes. He likes to stay on the ground, just like John Madden.

“You get to really see America that way,” He said, “One day I’ll save up the money to buy a sleeper car and live the high life. That’s what I have always said. Maybe next year.”

HUMAN!

I woke up in Denver when he shoved me.

“HUMAN!” his shout reverberated across the whole car. He was my new seatmate, preparing to take the seat I had sprawled across to sleep for the night.

He was riding from Denver to Martinez, California, where his daughter lived.

“Always wanted to take my time on the trip for once,” he said. “Usually, it’s just thousands of feet above ground in a plane just looking at clouds. Don’t get nothing from that.”

He runs a gun store in Denver and was planning to stay in California through the beginning of the New Year. More practical information, important not only to my trip strategy but to the structure of this narrative, his commitment to the trip meant that he would be my seatmate for the next day and night.

If you need more room on a train trip, you can go to the observation car. It is a separate train car with seats facing the windows, and you can theoretically stay there for as long as you like. On the bottom floor of the observation car is the snack bar, which also has open booths.

When I went there, I saw another man who looked close to my age. And he was wearing a Harvard hat. I am not one to cave into these silly inter-college rivalries, but it makes for a great joke. I asked my social media followers, do I fight him? They overwhelmingly voted in favor, but, as I approached, he said hello. And turns out, he was quite nice!

As we were talking about college, graduation, moving on in life, and four-day train trips, a mom and her young daughter approached the snack booth just as the tracks got a bit bumpy.

“I’ll take a Hershey bar and a apple juice, pleaseeeeeeeee. The good stuff. Woah, this train is making me wobblyyyyyyy,” the young girl said.

The observation car and the snack booth brought the people of the journey together, from a school teacher playing cards with a retired Marine to a woman and her elderly mother sharing breakfast on the trip they had always wanted to take together before death.

And as the sun fell, leaving a coat of darkness over the desert canvas, I heard the words, “I love you,” and the man kissed his girlfriend and held her close, blurring their separate reflections in the window into one apparition among the tumbleweeds. Love, desire, ambition, hope, joy, and sadness were all here, hurtling at 150 miles per hour through the Nevada Black.

The American Dream

“I want to see the country I now call home, you know?” He said only a couple of minutes after shaking my hand and sliding into the seat next to me. The night before, my seatmate from Denver had moved to an opening slate of seats to sleep. And we both woke up with new people ready to take the seats next to us.

My new friend was an engineer, who saved up all the money he had to move from India to the United States. Looking for an opportunity in the tech boom of the West, he left his wife behind, with the assurance that he would get her to the United States once he found a settled life for them to share.

He initially landed in Reno — he had a family member there with a place for him to stay. But after months of sending his resumes to permanent job openings, he finally gave up on Nevada. He saved up the money he had from the temp work he was doing and purchased several months’ worth of housing in San Francisco. He would tempt his fate there, hopeful that being at the right place at the right time with the right skills could change his fate. And reunite him with the love he left behind.

“I want life to be stable,” he said, “And in America, there is that possibility. I still believe in the American dream. I have to, to still be here.”

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Some of the most iconic photographs of the 20th century were taken by a troop of photographers sponsored by the US government and employed by the offices of the Farm Security Administration (FSA) and later the Office of War Information (OWI). Their mission was to document American life as it was affected by the Great Depression, and later World War II. The result was a rich historical record of tens of thousands of photographs that defined a nation in transition.

A Brief History of the FSA

The office of The Resettlement Administration was established in 1935, and later replaced by The Farm Security Administration in 1937. It was established to aid displaced farmers and the rural poor during the Great Depression.

Roy Stryker headed the Historical Section in the Division of Information. He also led the agency’s Photographic Unit.

Some argued that the photography division was nothing more than a government propaganda machine. The reality was more complex. The social programs established by the FSA were desperately needed, but expensive to maintain. To garner the support of the American public and to maintain government funding, the New Deal programs of the Roosevelt Administration needed a human face. The resultant body of photographic work remains as a collection of the greatest American documentary photographs ever produced.

During WWII. the FSA’s photographic unit was relocated to the Office of War Information to help in the war effort. Later, Congress would disband the FSA and OWI. Eventually, all images were transferred to the Library of Congress.

Many talented photographers walked through the doors of the FSA/OWI, and in this article we intend to spotlight just a handful. We will focus on the outstanding work of Arthur Rothstein, Dorothea Lange, John Vachon, Gordon Parks, Russell Lee and Walker Evans.

Arthur Rothstein (1915-1985)

Originally born in urban New York Rothstein was famous for his pictures of rural and small town American life. He was the first photographer hired by Roy Stryker, and had earlier been his student while Stryker was a professor at Columbia University. He would later work for Look magazine and Parade magazine.

During this time with the FSA, his camera of choice was a Leica.

Dorothea Lange (1895-1965)

Born in New Jersey, Lange was a successful portrait photographer in San Francisco prior to joining the FSA. She would take one of the most iconic photographs that defined the depression era, “Migrant Mother” taken with the Graflex Super D camera.

During WWII she worked for the Office of War information and took over 800 pictures documenting America’s policy of forced internment of Japanese Americans. These photos were impounded for the duration of the war. She later commented, “They had wanted a record, but not a public record.”

John Vachon (1914-1975)

Born in St. Paul, Minnesota. Vachon originally was a file clerk at the offices of the FSA. There he developed a passion for photography and was encouraged to pick up a camera by Stryker and other established photographers. Some of his best work was his portraits of children, often made from their vantage point.  He later worked for Look magazine and stayed there until 1971. His pictures of Marilyn Monroe are probably his most famous from this period.

He predominantly used a Leica.

Russell Lee (1903-1986)

Born in Illinois, Lee was known for being one of the most prolific photographers at the FSA. He produced thousands of images while employed there. He is celebrated for his attention to detail and photos showcasing the beauty and the vastness of the American West.  Later, he would become an instructor of photography at the University of Texas.

He is known as a user of Contax cameras.

Gordon Parks (1912-2006)

Born in Fort Scott, Kansas. Parks came to the FSA in 1942. He had prior experience shooting portraits and fashion. As the only African American photographer working for the FSA in the highly racially segregated Washington D.C., Stryker suggested that he use his camera to put a face on racism, and that is what he did throughout the course of his career.

Parks was a trailblazer, a photographer for Vogue, a composer, an author and a film director. He was the first black director of a major Hollywood film. He directed Shaft in 1971.

Park seemed to have no loyalty to any one brand and used several cameras during his long career, the most well-known were Rolleiflex TLRs and the Nikon F series of cameras.

Walker Evans (1903-1975)

Walker was born to an affluent family in St. Louis, Missouri. He worked as an advertising, documentary and freelance photographer prior to joining the FSA. His work for the FSA took him from the coal mines of Pennsylvania and West Virginia to the deep south. Conflicts with Stryker over what should be photographed eventually led to his firing. Evans later became a writer for Time, an editor for Fortune and an educator at the Yale University School of Art.

Through the course of his photographic career he used Contax, Leica, Rollieflex and 8×10 cameras.

Other notable photographers who worked for the FSA/OWI:

Jack Delano

Ben Shahn

Marion Post Wolcott

Carl Mydans

Elmer “Ted” Johnson

Louise Rosskam

Esther Bubley

From the creation of the Resettlement Administration in 1935 to the dissolution of the Office of War Information in 1945 approximately 250,000 images were taken. However, less than half have survived. Fortunately, the developed negatives that have remained are being preserved by The Library of Congress. Many are available to the public online for download or to have prints made.

Never again will photography be supported to this extent by the government to give witness to American life. A few former photographers of the FSA tried to petition the government to develop photography programs similar to the Photographic Unit at the FSA, but they were not successful. The images created were truly a time capsule and a window into the lives of countless Americans showcasing their sorrows, resilience and strength.

For more stories on photos and the people who shoot them, check out the many series we’ve published over the years below!

Featured Photophile – we shine a spotlight on amateur photographers whose work we love.

Photographer Interviews – in-depth discussions with professional and established photogs doing great work.

Female Photographers to Follow – get inspired by a monthly series focused on the beautiful and unique perspectives of female photographers.

Five Favorite Photos – a hand-selected examination of the oeuvre of our favorite famous photographers.

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

The post The Masterful Documentary Photographers of the Farm Security Administration appeared first on Casual Photophile.

Mom laughed as we looked out at the procession of shaved heads and neatly pressed uniforms.

“LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT!” an angry man shouted.

Gave mom a side-eye. She laughed. She heard similar from Matt when he was my age. In early high school, all was going according to plan for him. He had bangs below his eyes and went everywhere with a skateboard and baggy jeans. And then one day, he came into the house and informed my parents that he was joining the Marines.

Mom and dad weren’t happy. Dad said he wouldn’t sign for him early and scared the recruiter away from the house. All my friends were scared of my dad, but I never imagined a military recruiter would be. Matt would have to wait until he turned 18 and graduated high school. Matt was stubborn. Matt signed up after he graduated.

We arrived in Parris Island, South Carolina, for Matt’s basic training graduation a few months later. I was in the fourth grade. Parris Island didn’t look like Paris. And it wasn’t exactly my vision of an island. All the signs said Semper Fi. There were tanks by the gas station and a whole bunch of brick buildings. Barracks, Matt the Marine called them.

I held my end of the bargain when I was in high school. I practically sprinted by the recruiters when they set up their tables in the high school hallway. Head down. Hands on my backpack straps. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Oh… wait.

Those big memories. We can remember those, with or without a photograph or a video. They get talked about around every holiday dinner table. The recruiter texts every once in a while, or we see funny memes of high schoolers’ replies to those texts on the internet.

I purchased an old, used Kodak digital camera after I read this Casual Photophile article about how all the cool kids were getting digicams again. And I needed an SD card to put in it. I found one in a junk drawer and put it in the camera.

“When we got to Parris Island, they kept you up for the first two days,” Matt says on the decade-old video. He is sitting in the brown chair in our living room, which has tan walls that appear brown on this 480p recording. Matt is in his camo uniform, his eyes nestled in shadow beneath his standard-issue buzz cut.

“What did they keep you up doing? Running you? Walking you?” The camera shakes as mom prods. She sat Matt down to give an entire audio-visual narrative of his boot-camp experiences. And sure, there are minute details in this 20-minute long recording. The times that Matt arrived at the camp, an explanation of how the crew had to stop in a convenience store to buy Matt a belt on the way.

But there is also my mom’s voice. Her not so gentle way of cutting in and asking follow-ups. My dad’s voice booming through the background to my grandmother saying that he is heading to Walmart. The dark spots on the felt chair changed shades of brown where Matt would allow his hands to rest in between sentences.

Mom and dad are ten years older now – their voices don’t sound the same. That chair was thrown into the ditch two years ago. And even more, hearing Matt’s experience reminded me of my own car trip to Parris Island as a spectator. Crammed in the third-row seat of my grandmother’s Ford Explorer, listening to One Republic and regretting the grilled chicken sandwich I had just eaten at Cookout. I was working on getting abs – I had a girl to impress back home.

“I thought we lost these,” mom said as the video began. And truthfully, we would have. A random SD card in a junk drawer. One cleaning day away from the landfill, just like the chair.

Or maybe the card would have ended up on eBay. Sold for a couple of bucks as a hot commodity for the upcoming digital camera boom. Mom wouldn’t know how to wipe it, so Matt’s video would be shipped off with it, just as Matt himself was shipped off that morning on a bus outside the recruiter’s office in Tupelo, Mississippi.

The Kodak C813 arrived at my New Haven, Connecticut, P.O. Box about one week after I ordered it on eBay for $21.26. A digicam + memory card combo. Eight megapixels. Flash. A record of an entire family.

Wait, what? That wasn’t in the listing. Nearly 1,000 photographs spanning several years of a family’s life. From births to weddings to camping trips to vacations to dog pictures, they were all here. Forgotten on an SD Card. Which was picked up by a vendor somehow who promptly sold it online. To me. A college kid in need of a silly camera to take spontaneous photographs of his friends.

I’ll never know the tiny memories and stories hidden behind these photographs. Maybe the hospital cafeteria food was bad before the birth. Maybe some family members got into an argument at that wedding in the West. They loved that dog, I can tell that much.

Typically, this is where I would end the story. I would write some nice, pretty metaphorical ending that would get some positive comments and net a text from mom saying “Very well written!”

But nope, not this time. This is a call to action. Because frankly, I’m sick to my stomach that I have all these photographs, unsure of whether this family has lost them forever. And I don’t want any future college kid or, worse, a reseller to end up with your old memories. So, reader, sit down with those old SD cards or negatives and the people whose memories are recorded on them. Enjoy the little memories, the feelings and emotions that can only flood back with the tide of an old recording.

And me? I’ll search for this family. They deserve their own Parris Island. Their own felt brown chair. Their own recollection of exactly how their voices sounded, how that dog looked, what that wedding cake tasted like.

“I wanted him to remember what it was all like,” mom told me as I copied the file onto one of my archival hard drives before shutting off the video of Matt. “We should get him to watch this. Did you send it to him?”

Our guest posts are submitted by amazing photographers and writers all over the world.

Today’s Guest Post was submitted by…

Lukas Flippo is a first-generation low-income student at Yale University from rural Mississippi. Lukas is a photojournalist, with work appearing in the New York Times, TIME, IndyStar, and the Sun Herald. Lukas’ work, including a series on found photos, can be seen at Lukas’ website. More of Lukas’ guest posts on this site can be found here.

For more stories and photography from the community check out the many series we’ve published over the years below!

Featured Photophile – we shine a spotlight on amateur photographers whose work we love.

Photographer Interviews – in-depth discussions with professional and established photogs doing great work.

Female Photographers to Follow – get inspired by a monthly series focused on the beautiful and unique perspectives of female photographers.

Five Favorite Photos – a hand-selected examination of the oeuvre of our favorite famous photographers.

Follow Casual Photophile on YouTube, Twitter, Facebook and Instagram

[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

The post $21.26 – The Price of a Thousand Memories appeared first on Casual Photophile.

A truly one of a kind artist, Claire has been working in the photography industry for years, from shooting weddings to capturing newborns. If you’re a fan of authentic and tender moments captured and preserved forever on film, then sit back and enjoy our conversation throughout her career and artistic journey.

Can you start off by introducing yourself?

A little bit about myself. Well first, I’m a mom. I have two little kids. We live on a small farm in Ontario. I’ve been shooting since high school, for like, 20 years. I started on film because my parents still had a film camera. They gave it to me and I took a film class. I loved it because back then we still had teachers that would do darkroom stuff with us. And that’s the most thrilling part! Then I went to school to become a midwife, and I did that for a little while but then it just was not for me. I ended up switching completely over to photography and taking on clients, and that’s when I started my business. I would say I’m still polishing my voice. Finessing it. But I would say it took a good 6-7 years to speak in my voice in my job with my clients. That really helped give me a niche market. I took all those people that liked what I did and took them into film with me. So now I only do film photography with my clients; families and weddings and all that kind of stuff. On the other side I have my conceptual artwork which can be both digital and film.

What do your clients think of you being film only? Do they understand the limitations of working with film?

Yes, they are pretty educated these days which is really nice. The ones who’ve known me, I’ve been bringing different film cameras to different shoots for decades. So those who have shot with me know that about me. And I would often share those film images with them even if it was just a handful. I’ve certainly lost some along the way but I knew I was going to lose them and that’s okay. Because I wasn’t gonna give them what they wanted anyway, so that’s good. I would say for the most part they are very well educated and because people are so quick on trends on Instagram people want film because they want the grainy look, which drives me a little bonkers, but anyways. So they often specifically want film to achieve that texture. And then shooting in film is a whole different pace. I’m definitely a different shooter, like the content is different. The pace, the vibe, it’s all different. So that’s attractive to some people too.

Do you have one main film camera with which you shoot your client work, or do you have a buffet of cameras you like to choose from?

At the moment, I have two. I have the Pentax 67 [our review of this camera can be seen here]. Man, it’s a tank but I love it so much. I’ve played around with other ones, like the Mamiya C330. That was beautiful too. That’s a twin lens though, and it was just slowing me down a bit. But it was beautiful. I am happy with the Pentax.

I’m not a big gear head. So I tend to stick with a camera for a few years until I meet a bunch of people and use their cameras and realize they work better. I rarely go research cameras. I forget who said it, but “the best camera is the camera you have.” I do try to make my cameras work that way.

The 35mm I use is the Nikon F100 [our review of this camera can be seen here]. It’s a really nice camera. I like it a lot. I also got the Canon EOS3 because someone I admire was using it, but I kind of had nothing but trouble with it. I need to play with it more but I haven’t had the time. I hate wasting film trying to figure out problems. So those are my two main film cameras I use. If I’m doing my conceptual work I just use the Pentax.

And what digital camera do you use?

I am going to ride my Nikon D700 until it dies [our review of this camera can be seen here]. It’s funny because I’m so old. When I shot a lot of weddings I had two. So when I stopped doing those, I sold the second body and just kept one for this and that. And now with mirrorless it’s like I’m an elderly person now with my digital gear. It happened so quickly. Now there’s no point in selling this. So I’m just going to run it into the ground. But I do love it. I’m used to it. It’s like an extension of my body. This is the second shutter on it. And I have a bunch of other cameras, too. Like personally I like using the Canon AE-1 Program [our review of this camera can be seen here] when I’m just out and about, it’s low profile and does a nice job. And then I have a bunch of fun cameras like Lomo cameras and different instant cameras, just to play with.

Do you remember your first film camera?

You know? I don’t. It was a Minolta. I know, and it had a mickey mouse neck strap from my dad, which I still have! I’ve asked him but we can’t remember what camera it was. We just didn’t think that way back then. It just was like, here is a camera. Perfect. I ended up giving it to a friend, so I don’t know where it is anymore. But I do have a soft spot for it. It did a good job.

You don’t shoot weddings anymore. Why is that?

Yeah, I don’t do the same kind of weddings. Like I used to do the BIG weddings and I like Love, I’m all in support of Love. But I’m so jaded by weddings. They’re horrible. I’ve shot many, many, many weddings for a decade and the last couple years I was running my business I only took on micro-weddings, which are now a big thing but five years ago weren’t. But I love those, those are totally up my alley. They’re slower, they’re smaller. So I’ll still do those. I even did a few last year actually. But I don’t advertise it.

You just got burnt out on the big wedding structure?

Yeah, all the hype. I”m all about authenticity. And I’m not saying a wedding isn’t authentic. But people can often lose sight of what is actually happening on a wedding day which is Love and a celebration of Love, and it just turns into this big Instagramable event and I don’t like that. I have friends who are still wedding photographers and they’re just made to do it. They’re pumped, they’re always super excited, they love Love, they cry at every wedding. So they’re great, some people are just built for it. But it was a stretch for me. I’m glad I did it though, it was fun. But I’m happy that chapter is closed.

Beyond your clients, what keeps you shooting film?

I like the pace. I like how it slows me down. I like the challenge. The technical challenge, and the artistic challenge of capturing in the fraction of the frames you would on digital. I really enjoy that challenge. I also love that you really have to surrender with film. You can’t check the back of the camera to see if you got it. So it’s very freeing.

A photographer whom I saw at a workshop said “Film will set you free.” I didn’t understand her for a long time, until I just exclusively shot film and I realized it really does set you free. It’s super risky shooting film, so you wouldn’t think it would set you free but it does. It frees you to think more creatively and just trust your skills and the process. And when you are being creative it’s more of a challenge. Like if you’re going to do a double exposure you really have to think very clearly of how you’re doing it, framing everything, and if it’s going to work. As opposed to if you’re doing a double exposure on digital you can just check right away and that’s no fun.

It’s thrilling, you get your scans back and you don’t know what they’re going to be like. The whole process is very exciting. And clients really love it. Even my clients who didn’t grow up with film. Now there’s more clients who have never experienced film, they just enjoy how special each image is. People cherish their images more. It’s beautiful.

One of the things that first really pulled me into your art was your work with mothers and children. What draws you toward mothers and why are they one of your focuses?

Oh, man. That’s a good question. I’ve never been asked anything like that before. Why mothers? I think there are a couple of reasons. The first reason, that’s the time of life I’m in right now. So that’s my demographic for starters. But I’ve thought about it and I’ve never come to a good conclusion about it. I’ve wondered if it’s because I can’t physically have kids myself. I wonder if there is some fascination or examination I’m doing. Because I can’t have kids and I haven’t been through it. I see pregnancy and the early days of motherhood through a different lens, of more curiosity maybe. Because it’s not normal to me and it’s not commonplace, so it’s exciting. I think that’s the first thing that comes to mind. That could be it. Also just moms and babies are just such a unique relationship to begin with. It’s really an endless topic you could study. The shapes and the colors are so beautiful, and the textures. And the earthiness of it. It’s so feminine and it’s so gritty at the same time. I really like it.

Is there anything in particular you are hoping to capture about motherhood?

Nope, just the reality of it. All I really ask of my clients is they try to be themselves as much as possible. So the shoots are always different. But I just want to capture them authentically as who they are. I don’t think you can see it in the images but I can, like some shoots I did last year I can see a lot of gladness in them because I know what was going on with that mom at the time. And I tell them, that’s just where you were at. This is a time capsule. Shoots can be really silly or intimate or sad and intimate. But they’re always very tender. I love tenderness.

I love that there’s nothing posed or overtly forced in your photos. They feel very lived in. As if you’re capturing these moments as these families are just living their lives and going about their days whether it’s getting dressed for the day or having bath time. How did you develop that style?

It evolved but it came from a place of really valuing authenticity. What’s more authentic than being in a state of undress and moving, undressing, dressing, rocking your baby. You don’t get more authentic than that. A lot of the images are posed in a sense, they’re initially posed but then I let them fall apart. It’s just really that desire for something authentic. The nudity part of it, I’m personally not much of a nudist. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, though. I think having been a midwife helps a lot and helps my clients a lot because they can get nervous and I can say, “Remember, I was a midwife, I’ve seen it all.” And that has really helped everyone to relax and let me take pictures. It was a few years of asking people to be vulnerable by taking clothes off and now it’s people coming to me wanting to take their clothes off. Not in a weird way of course!

When you mentioned nudity just now it took me by surprise because I’ve never thought of your photos as being nude photos. It doesn’t stick out at all. You do it in such a beautiful, subtle way that I never thought about it until you brought it up.

I have always been really, really clear I don’t want to create sexual images. I want to create intimate images, or even sensual images. That’s totally fine with me. I have a lot of pictures of couples kissing and nudity there, but they don’t feel sexual. So yeah, there’s a line that I don’t think you could define until you saw it.

The last thing I want to do is sexualize anybody, because it’s kind of a cheap trick.

As you’ve mentioned, you are a mother. How do you feel being a mom has affected your artistic vision and output?

When we adopted my daughter I had to do art to, like, breath. That was a really cool time with her, because when we adopted her a lot of things went really badly in our lives just after we adopted her. Nothing to do with her, of course! Just life things. It was a way to process and spend time with her. I created a ton of images with her when she was 18 months to about 3 [years old]. They’re really hard and heavy but I love that I have them. I think with parenting and having two kids now, there’s a level of, I have so few fucks to give. Like, I just don’t have the time. I don’t have the energy to invest in things I don’t believe in, like art projects I don’t think have legs. Not to say I won’t experiment. But it’s made me more focused and it’s made me more relaxed in one sense but it’s also made me more tunnel visioned in what I want. It’s been really awesome. Really tiring, but awesome because I know what’s me and what I want to do. I guess I would say I’ve gotten much more efficient.

Do you ever feel like there’s times where motherhood and art are in conflict?

Oh yes, every day. When we first adopted our daughter she would take three-hour naps in the afternoon, so I would once a week have someone come to the house and we would do “nap sessions” and shoot during her naps. I created a ton of images I loved during that time. Just finding myself and what I like. I got to work with a lot of great people who still model for me from time to time to this day. That was so life giving.

But now I don’t have the time for nap sessions, because nap time now is “clean the house, shower, make dinner, etc.” Things are different now, it’s just so busy. And less energy, but I still have so many ideas. Even today I was driving my daughter to school and I got sad because I have so many ideas I want to follow through on. And Claire Without Kids and Claire With One Kid could find time to do them, but now I can’t and I have to keep letting them go, but I know more will come. That’s something I’ve learned with ideas and projects. Sometimes they come and they go, and you don’t have time to work them out. But there’s always more coming. There’s no scarcity of ideas that come up, so I have to remind myself to let them go and it’ll come back to me if I really want.

I wanted to talk a little about a project you are working on called Fed is Best. Could you tell us about that photo project?

Yes! I renamed it, it’s just called Fed now. I was seeing that Instagram has just been flooded with images of moms breastfeeding. And there’s this really big movement in the last year or two where women are showing more and more skin while nursing and breastfeeding. And while it’s super beautiful and super awesome, it is unrelatable for someone like me who can’t nurse. And also for other types of caretakers like men who don’t produce milk, or grandparents taking care of kids, or foster parents serving as primary caregivers. There’s all these different people who have these beautiful bonding moments multiple times a day, and it just felt like “Well, where are our beautiful images?” Because I know that we’re having these moments too.

So that was the impetus, feeling underrepresented and jealous, too, of these beautiful pictures. And then I’ve just been reaching out to the community. Even though it’s just been very preliminary, and I’m still building it and establishing what the whole project will look like. Also as a midwife, I’ve been so surprised by all the different ways people are feeding their children. I was just thinking we’d have a bunch of different bottle feeding caregivers, but no! There’s so many different things between full on breastfeeding and full on bottle feeding. There’s a plethora of different methods which I didn’t even know about.

It’s very exciting! It’s been fun to explore. Something that’s never happened to me before. And I don’t know what to call it besides stagefright. I got frozen with this project and I lost a lot of momentum from last summer to now. So unfortunately I’ve lost several volunteers I had lined up because they’re no longer feeding their babies, because they’re babies are growing up and not taking milk anymore. But that was really weird. I’ve never had that happen with a project before. I just felt immobilized. I couldn’t make a decision on the project.

I will be seeing it through. But again, there’s no rush, because women, men, and caregivers will always be having to feed their kids. It could be a long project, we’ll see. Also, it’ll be all film. That was one of the things making me freeze, because of the costs. I’m shooting medium format and just committing to that.

That’s such a beautiful idea, because you’re right. There’s so many different types of parenthood outside the traditional biological aesthetic of motherhood that don’t get celebrated or recognized in our society.

And don’t get beautified or romanticized. For adoptive parents or moms who can’t produce milk or just all the different scenarios, pregnancy and having babies is so romanticized. Then people like me feel like this isn’t romantic at all, this is really hard! So yeah I just want to romanticize what we do, too.

Most of the people I interview either don’t rely on film photography for their income, or they shoot digital as their main job and film on the side as a personal passion. I think you’re one of the first people I’ve interviewed who shoot solely film with all their paid work. So how are the rising costs of film affecting your business and is that of concern for you?

Yeah, yup! I actually just sent out some quotes this evening where my prices had been raised. And I sat there for a while reading it over, not sure. If I was a potential new client receiving an email like that, I would be thinking “Are you kidding me?!” But I always have a formula, and it was the formula I used ten years ago and it’s the same formula I use now to make sure I’m earning money. I guess the one thing that you might not want to hear, I’ve always had it in the back of my head is that what I offer is luxury. And when things get difficult in the world luxury items are the first things to get nixxed. And I’ve always thought of myself that way.

I mean, you could argue that photos are art and art is essential. But it’s not a daily living essential. It’s really low. But it’s helped me. I’m totally prepared to fade out, if the world is going to collapse for a while. That’s been in the back of my head. And also, I’m just aware because of the price increases I will have limited clients. Fortunately because I am a stay at home mom and my husband works full time, we are not reliant on my income anymore. We were when I was running a business full time without kids but that ended a few years ago. So I don’t have to think that way. But I do have to think when I do shoot film, it costs me financially to pay for it but also in finding babysitting for my family. So it has to be worth it. So, I don’t know, I don’t have an answer. I just know I’m very aware my job is a luxury item.

Does that ever cause you any anxiety?

No. Because I feel like I can fall back on my other artwork as an outlet. I’ll just figure out how to make art no matter what. If the world totally collapses and we can’t even get film developed, it’ll be heartbreaking yes, but there will always be other outlets. And that’s the main thing for me, this is an outlet.

Also something very unique you’ve been doing to keep your client work alive during the pandemic is Zoom photoshoots. Can you tell us a little bit about that?

Yeah, during the pandemic I was trying to find a way to keep shooting film, but, of course, it wasn’t possible to shoot indoors. At the time, I was in an online class with Yan Palmer and Bec Griffiths and I was captivated with one of my classmates. I asked her if I could try shooting her and her baby through Zoom, but on film, and that started a whole new genre for me which has virtually taken me from Connecticut, to Washington state, back to Ontario, then to Germany. Soon I’ll be working with people in Qatar, the UK and the East Coast of Canada. It’s so thrilling being able to virtually travel into clients’ homes across North America and Europe!

I don’t want to forget to ask you! One of my favorite images of yours is the burning Christmas tree image. It is just iconic. I’d love for you to tell us a little bit about that image and how it came about.

Yeah it was our first Christmas with two little kids and my parents were living with us at the time, in an attached part of the house. And life was just heavy, and hard, and tiring, but magical because they were really excited about Christmas. But we forgot to do the Christmas morning picture in front of the tree, or really any picture in front of the tree which I wanted to be our little tradition. And we forgot.

And then it was New Year’s Eve and we had plans to go out and everyone we were supposed to meet up with had Covid. So the party was canceled, and we thought let’s take down the Christmas tree instead. And then I realized we hadn’t taken a picture. And I was just in a MOOD and our daughter wanted to roast marshmallows earlier so I told her, “We’re going to burn the tree and you can roast your marshmallows over it!” She got so excited and was jumping on the couch shouting “Burn the tree!”

So we took it outside, and I could just see it in my head. I knew we had to pick up outfits. We had to do this right. This is going to be our Christmas tree picture, because this is what Christmas was this year. It was chaos, a big dumpster fire. And it felt fitting to burn it. It felt good to not passively take the Christmas tree out and be sad I missed the opportunity to get the picture in front of the tree. I wanted to be really defiant about the whole thing. So when we started off we did some sample shots before I lit it on fire.

And then we don’t know what happened, why my daughter started crying. There are two theories. One, I maybe stepped on her finger but she says I didn’t. And then the other, I think is in her 4-year-old head she hadn’t fully processed we were going to actually burn the Christmas tree and then when she saw what we actually were doing she started crying. So we don’t know. But she did start balling and wailing uncontrollably as soon as we started taking pictures. And I was like, “Yeah, this is appropriate.” It’s in theme. And then I stood up and I just put my arms out like a defiant surrendering thing. It just felt so good to do it in the moment. It was super cathartic. It was awesome.

I always like to ask each of my subjects what female photographers, past or present, do you consider favorites or find inspirational?

Oh, it changes all the time! There’s just so many good ones. First and foremost, and I feel embarrassed to say this because it’s so typical, but Annie Leibovitz. And I’m not talking about her big commercial stuff as gorgeous as it is, but it’s all her personal work beforehand with her parents. If you don’t know any of her earlier work with Rolling Stone and stuff, man she speaks my language. She’s looking for the moment. She’s looking for authenticity. She was following the Rolling Stones for a while before Rolling Stone magazine, and there’s a picture of Mick Jagger getting into the elevator and he’s exhausted and his makeup is all running off after a show. He looks terrible, but he looks like a total rockstar. Just the way she captured it is so vulnerable and tired. She’s really talented. And then with her elderly parents she asked to photograph them. And they let her. And just the vulnerable, intimate pictures she has of her elderly parents is just beautiful. Her early work has been a huge inspiration. So yeah, early Annie. Rolling Stones Annie.

And she has a super cool life. I can’t remember if they were married, but she lost her partner to cancer a few years ago. And she took pictures of it. And that’s me. That’s me. That’s how I process things. I lost my best friend a couple years ago to cancer, and I took a lot of film pictures of it with her permission. I don’t think I’ll ever share them but man are they important to me. And that time in my life and those images helped shape who I am today. And I recognize that in Annie. And beyond Annie, I also really love Vivian Maier, Yan Palmer, and Amy Woodward.

As we wrap up, is there anything this year photographically that you’re looking forward to?

I’m looking forward to getting started back on the Fed project. I’ve psyched myself out, but I know it has value so I’m excited to see what comes out of it this year. And if I get some clients along the way that would be great, but that’s not really the goal these days. I guess the biggest thing, even if Fed totally flops, I just feel like no matter what, I’m really enjoying this process of not caring so much. But also at the same time having a laser vision of knowing what I want to do and not worrying about pleasing other people. And just doing what I want to do. I’m excited to see where it will take me.

Where can people find your work and is there anything you’d like to add?

On Instagram my client work can be found on @dam.its.claire. And my artwork can be found on @claire.dam. So those are the two!

And just one thing I want to add about women in the industry, and in women being talented. I think as women we often don’t present ourselves like we’re talented. Almost like we’re apologetic that we’re talented, and that’s comfortable to do. But it’s so backwards, so I’m pushing myself and encouraging other women in the industry to be proud of our accomplishments. And walk around like we have accomplished stuff. We’re artists and we’re talented, and we’ve earned it through the many hours we have put into our craft. I want to change things because like at weddings and stuff people would always call me “bossy.” And it’s driven me up the wall. Whereas a guy would never be called bossy. And I’ve worked with men who were bossy and didn’t get called bossy. I just hope that we can start carrying ourselves unapologetically that we are talented.

Get Inspired

For more stories behind the images and photography from the community check out the many series we’ve published over the years below!

Featured Photophile – we shine a spotlight on amateur photographers whose work we love.

Photographer Interviews – in-depth discussions with professional and established photogs doing great work.

Female Photographers to Follow – get inspired by a monthly series focused on the beautiful and unique perspectives of female photographers.

Five Favorite Photos – a hand-selected examination of the oeuvre of ur favorite famous photographers.

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

The post Parenthood and Love Shot Authentically on Film – Interview with Claire Dam appeared first on Casual Photophile.

One day Matt would do his brotherly duty of driving me to elementary school while blaring some rap song about how he doesn’t need her. And then the next day he would slam my bedroom door shut and tell me to not go into the living room under any circumstances.

But the landline rang. Picking up a call in the kitchen wouldn’t count. After all, what if it was mom off work early and in the McDonald’s drive-through? Or what if some overseas prince needed our financial help?

“Hello?”

“Yeah, can I speak to Matt?”

I was the obedient type. What can I say?

I took off running… with the phone still in my hand. As I turned the corner to the living room, the phone box ripped from the wall. The loud crash interrupted their fervent make-out session, and we all shared what felt like an eternity’s worth of eye contact.

We never got another landline.

Robert Adams photographed with intention. He said “Beauty for me is a word for wholeness. So as a photographer, I am looking for the places where all the pieces fit together.”

But what about those phone lines? Sure, they are graphically pleasing. Neatly maintained and terminating behind the Frontier sign. But they are firmly out of Adams’ authority as the photographer.

He controls the shutter. Maybe at the time of the shutter snap, a piece of audio was frozen into the wire of a young Colorado Springs high school student recounting his day to his girlfriend across time. Had he waited a few more seconds before clicking the shutter, possibly we would catch her reply. Different pieces of the puzzle are both connected and separated by time — the tool of Adams’ authority.

I don’t think Adams would mind the charge. He was a leader of the New Topographics movement, which was a crew of photographers who hoped to photograph formally without the earmarks and baggage of “style.”

So what voice gives a work authenticity? And what can the power of a voice mean to a photographer who aims to be devoid of style?

Some things seem certain, at least under the supposition that Adams wasn’t a photo-realistic painter, didn’t have access to a computer with 3D graphics, and abided by his own pledge of photographic honesty. We know from the caption that this photo was taken at Pikes Peak in Colorado Springs, Colorado, in 1969. We can presume it is a Frontie gas station due to the large sign.

Our presumption would be wrong. Frontie gas stations didn’t exist. Of course, a grasp of English could have led you to the final “r,” which is beyond the edge of the frame, to complete the brand name Frontier. The authenticity and truth of the image remain firm due to lived experience and knowledge. But to a non-American viewer, authenticity could quickly shift to deception, and Adams’ choice to not take ten steps back becomes not only a matter of style but a conflict of story and motive. Perhaps authenticity isn’t only rooted in the decisions of the documentarian but also in the knowledge and predisposition of the viewer.

My brother? He never heard the phone ring. He thought the whole incident was my failed attempt at meddling in his business. In the end, both were true. But whose responsibility is the truth?

Adams felt a responsibility to the natural land we occupy. He aimed to be a stenographer of its demise as a cost of humanity’s progress.

The photograph begs for silence. It begs for care. If we drive by quietly, the gas station will stay there. The phone lines won’t move. The people won’t get back in their cars, press the gas pedal, and spray more exhaust into our air.

Adams puts it like this: “What will America be? Will it accord with the stillness of sunlight?”

Adams gives his documentary work the responsibility of asking the question. Who answers? In this case, progress.

That gas station isn’t there anymore from what I can find, and my cell phone takes my voice to space.

Our guest posts are submitted by amazing photographers and writers all over the world.

Today’s Guest Post was submitted by…

Lukas Flippo is a first-generation low-income student at Yale University from rural Mississippi. Lukas is a photojournalist, with work appearing in the New York Times, TIME, IndyStar, and the Sun Herald. Lukas’ work, including a series on found photos, can be seen at Lukas’ website.

For more stories and photography from the community check out the many series we’ve published over the years below!

Featured Photophile – we shine a spotlight on amateur photographers whose work we love.

Photographer Interviews – in-depth discussions with professional and established photogs doing great work.

Female Photographers to Follow – get inspired by a monthly series focused on the beautiful and unique perspectives of female photographers.

Five Favorite Photos – a hand-selected examination of the oeuvre of our favorite famous photographers.

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The post There’s Romance in the Pikes Peak Phone Lines: Documentary Form and Robert Adams by Lukas Flippo appeared first on Casual Photophile.