Luckily, I didn’t have to wait. Harman sent me a few rolls of Phoenix 200 prior to its public launch, and I’ve spent the last month or so shooting the film in real-world conditions. I’ve found that the world’s newest color film is surprisingly versatile, and truly impressive as a first ever run at color film from Harman.

What is Harman Phoenix 200

Phoenix 200 is a true 200 ISO color film that can be processed in normal C41 color processing chemicals (which means that it can be developed anywhere that color film is developed). It is Harman’s first ever attempt at a color film, and the brand describes it as “experimental in nature with some quirky characteristics,” including strong, visible grain, high contrast, and unique colors. (All of this is true in certain cases, but this film also has the ability to behave quite happily as a “normal” color film – more on this later in the review.)

It can be shot at 100 or 400 ISO, though Harman advises that getting exposure just right will yield the most consistent results.

The film is only available in 35mm, though Harman says that they’re evaluating the potential of color film in other formats, such as 120.

The film will be sold at “all good photo retailers around the world,” and Harman is targeting a retail price of $13.99 USD excluding tax, £12.99 GBP including VAT, and €15:49 Euro including tax, though these prices are guidelines and exact price may vary by retailer and country.

Why Does it Matter?

The importance of Harman producing its own color film should not be under-estimated.

For years, film photographers have relied almost entirely on a single manufacturer (Kodak) to produce all of the world’s color film. This has resulted in scarcity of many favorite color films, and continually rising prices. By entering the color film market, and by producing the film entirely in-house, Harman is signaling a desire to create an actual competitive market for color film, to sustainably and affordably ensure we have color film now and into the future.

It’s also worth mentioning that producing color film, even compared with the complex process of making black-and-white film, is immensely difficult, as I learned when I toured the Kodak factory some years ago. The process from start to finish requires highly specialized facilities and smart, talented people to run them. If you’ve ever wondered why the film renaissance of the last decade has seen so many new black-and-white films released compared with an almost infinitesimally few number of new color films, this is why. It’s just really hard to make color film.

What’s also worth noting is that Phoenix 200 is not just a vanity project, or a boutique film, a repackaged or rebranded film that already exists. It’s new, and it’s being made by one of the oldest and most respected names in film. For legal purposes, Harman is not allowed to sell color film under their Ilford name. But the film is being made by the same people, at the same place. The folk at Harman have as long a history in the film production industry as anyone, and they want the medium to continue long into the foreseeable future.

Shooting, Developing, Scanning, and Image Characteristics

I loaded my first roll of Phoenix 200 into a pristine Nikon N2000 equipped with a stunning 45mm F/2.8P Nikkor pancake lens, loaded my family into the car, and drove north toward Maine. When we arrived we found coastal cliffs, rustic autumn foliage, and quaint New England villages. I spent the day seeking color and light, found it, and shot it on the world’s most secret film.

I shot my film at ISO 200, following Harman’s advice that shooting at box speed would yield the best and most consistent results. I intentionally created a gamut of images (backlit subjects, frontlit subjects, high contrast scenes, low contrast scenes, low light and high key shots, etc.), and then I sent the film to the lab for processing through their Fuji processor/scanner.

The film was processed in C41 chemicals as any normal color film, and then scanned using the Fuji system’s standard correction profiles. Just as Harman told me in their literature, the scans from the lab returned punchy colors, high contrast, visible grain, and an almost cross-processed vibe. Halation occurs in backlit scenes (the famous Cinestill look), and coating anomalies are not uncommon (though Harman has said that these anomalies will be mitigated over time as they improve and refine their color film manufacturing pipeline).

Importantly, I made sure to retrieve the negatives from the lab so that I could scan the pictures through my usual process (camera scanning with Nikon’s full frame Z series camera equipped with the Nikkor Z MC 50mm F/2.8 macro lens and their dedicated ES-2 film scanning attachment). As also mentioned in Harman’s literature, this home-scanning process allowed me to achieve more “normal” looking color film images. Harman also advises that they will be working with labs over the next few months to establish recommended settings for the most common lab scanners.

[ABOVE a gallery of Phoenix 200 images produced by the camera scan method. BELOW a gallery of Phoenix 200 images produced by the Fuji lab scanner.]

As we can see in the above galleries, Phoenix 200 can have something of a split personality.

When scanned by the lab, images are indeed punchy, grainy, and high in contrast, as Harman advised they would be. Of course, the heavy contrast, cross-processed look is certainly interesting and unusual, and I’m sure that many photo nerds will appreciate (even seek) it. To each their own!

But when scanned at home using my camera scanning method (and with Lightroom edits), the images are far more reasonable and natural, with colors that are truer to life, restrained contrast, and less visible grain. By adjusting in Lightroom, it’s possible to make images from Phoenix 200 look many different ways. Until Harman issues guidelines to labs that will result in the film being processed in a less garish way, I will personally be opting out of lab scans and handling things in-house.

We can see the halation that they mentioned in their literature. It appears much like it does with Cinestill’s films, as red halos surrounding extremely bright points of light. It looks neat. Some people will love it.

As for the rest, Phoenix 200 behaves much like other 200 ISO films. It’s not a fast film, and requires ample light to expose proper images. My photos made indoors with an F/2.8 lens show motion blur and decreased detail. Faster lenses or a flash are required for indoor spaces or low light shooting.

My takeaway, when speaking specifically to the shots that were scanned by my camera, is that the images are lovely. There’s good detail in shadows and highlights, and the colors are well-balanced. I like what I see!

Final Thoughts

The fact that Phoenix 200 exists at all is a great thing. Too long have film photographers been limited in the color film market. We need new color film manufacturers, and Harman is answering the call.

In Phoenix 200 we have a fun, interesting, and enticing new film. It’s a color film that has a distinctive and energetic look when processed and scanned at the local lab. When scanned at home, it’s a film that affords flexibility and quality.

The marketing behind Phoenix 200 tells us that this is a big deal, that the film symbolizes a rebirth of sorts, a rising from nothing, a new beginning. If that is indeed the case, if Phoenix 200 is just the start of a healthy new product line of color films from Harman, I’m excited. Time (and the market) will tell. ∎

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The post Harman Phoenix 200 – the Review appeared first on Casual Photophile.

I was able to shoot Phoenix 200 prior to the film’s unveiling. For those who’d like to read my full review of the newest color film on the market, along with sample photos and details on multiple scanning methods, see my review here.

There’s a lot to unpack in this seemingly simple product launch, so let’s dive in.

To start, the importance of Harman producing its first color film should not be under-estimated.

For years now, film photographers have relied almost entirely on a single manufacturer (Kodak) to produce all of the world’s color film. This has resulted in scarcity of many favorite color films, and continually rising prices. By entering the color film market, and by producing the film entirely in-house, Harman is signaling a desire to sustainably and affordably create color film now and into the future, to create an actual competitive market for color film. This is great news.

It’s also worth mentioning that producing color film, even compared with producing black-and-white film, is immensely difficult, as I learned when I toured the Kodak factory some years ago. The process from start to finish is incredibly complicated. It requires highly specialized facilities and smart, talented people to run them. If you’ve ever wondered why the film renaissance of the last decade has seen so many new black-and-white films released compared with an almost infinitesimally few number of new color films, this is why. It’s just really hard to make color film.

But Phoenix 200 exists. They did it, and it’s here. And what’s also worth noting is that it’s not just a vanity project, or a boutique film, a repackaged or rebranded film that already exists. It’s new, and it’s being made by one of the oldest and most respected names in film.

For legal purposes, Harman is not allowed to sell color film under their Ilford name. But the film is being made by the same people, at the same place. The folk at Harman have as long a history in the film production industry as anyone, and they want the medium to continue long into the foreseeable future.

Harman Phoenix 200 - the Review

By now, the secret is out. Harman has just unveiled their first new color film, Phoenix 200. I’ve known about Phoenix 200 for a bit longer than most photo nerds, given my lucky position as editor of a photo nerd site, and while the news that a new color film was being made by one of the oldest and largest producers of film was automatically exciting, I tried my best to suspend my enthusiasm until I had a chance to shoot, develop, scan, and camera-scan the film for myself. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait. Harman sent me a few […]

Read More

casualphotophile.com

What Exactly is Phoenix 200, and Answers to Frequently Asked Questions

Phoenix 200 is a true 200 ISO color film that can be processed in normal C41 color processing chemicals (it can be developed anywhere that color film is developed). It is Harman’s first ever attempt at a color film, so it’s experimental in nature with some quirky characteristics, including strong, visible grain, high contrast, and unique colors. Halation occurs in backlit scenes (the Cinestill look), and coating anomalies are not uncommon.

It can be shot at 100 or 400 ISO, though Harman advises that getting exposure just right will yield the most consistent results.

The film is only currently available in 35mm, though Harman says that they’re evaluating the potential of color film in other formats, such as 120.

The film will be sold at “all good photo retailers around the world,” and Harman is targeting a retail price of $13.99 USD excluding tax, £12.99 GBP including VAT, and €15:49 Euro including tax, though these prices are guidelines and exact price may vary by retailer and country.

My Brief Thoughts on Phoenix 200

Along with my advance shipment of Phoenix 200, Harman’s Managing Director sent a letter. In it, he explains the way that Phoenix 200 was conceived, a bit about its development, and their hopes for this and other color films in the future. Notable in this letter is the idea that Phoenix 200 was a labor of love.

It was developed by a small team in a secret “skunk works” project which simply sought to learn whether or not Harman could, in fact, design, coat, and manufacture a brand new color film at their UK facility. They did it, and the resulting new film is described as “the beginning of an exciting new chapter[…]” and “a beacon of hope for the film community that is so heavily reliant on a single manufacturer for its color film.”

The letter goes on to state that the film is far from perfect, that Phoenix 200 is truly an experiment, even going so far as to acknowledge that the image characteristics of the film are wild and unexpected. Excitingly, the letter references Phoenix 200 as a starting point. “Sales from this film will allow us to further invest, refine, and improve our formulations, coating capabilities, and color technology. Our aim is that each new color film we produce will be an improvement on the previous.”

That Phoenix 200 exists at all is unexpected and exciting news for film shooters who wish for more variety in their choice of color film. What’s even more exciting than that is what might come next. ∎

Harman Phoenix 200 - the Review

By now, the secret is out. Harman has just unveiled their first new color film, Phoenix 200. I’ve known about Phoenix 200 for a bit longer than most photo nerds, given my lucky position as editor of a photo nerd site, and while the news that a new color film was being made by one of the oldest and largest producers of film was automatically exciting, I tried my best to suspend my enthusiasm until I had a chance to shoot, develop, scan, and camera-scan the film for myself. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait. Harman sent me a few […]

35mm film for sale | eBay

Get the best deals for 35mm film at eBay.com. We have a great online selection at the lowest prices with Fast & Free shipping on many items!

F Stop Cameras

A classic camera shop specializing in cameras and lenses, film, collectible cameras, medium format, 35mm, and some digital. The retail side of Casual Photophile.

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 NEWS: Harman Unveils Phoenix 200, a Brand New Color Film appeared first on Casual Photophile.

This sight, simple, yet truly beautiful, still brought me moments of begging for spring and the wash of vibrancy it ushers.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am primarily a black and white film user, but every so often, there is a tugging at my eye that I can’t ignore. In this article though, the draw for color has been replaced with the need to know the possibility of a certain piece of gear.

Living in Spokane, Washington, there are some truly beautiful landscapes around every corner. The camera that’s the subject of this article is a great medium format camera for landscape shooting. But I mostly use it in whatever way fits the moment. I tend to walk around my neighborhood and the not too far surrounding areas almost everyday. Work and other things often weigh in and affect this privilege, but I try my darndest to do a few blocks here and there on even the sleepiest of days.

Movement is very important to me, whether it be the movement of my feet, my eyes adjusting to a scene, my mind wandering through its bubbling bog of ideas or my move to purchase an amazing camera and lens (for the second time) because I just couldn’t cut a certain thought free. One particular thought was that I had let go one of the best made film cameras of all time, and one that was fitted with a beautiful kit lens as well; the Mamiya C330 Pro F, wearing the lovely Mamiya Sekor 80mm f2.8 on its front. I was so impressed by this camera. The way it leaned into my hands so comfortably when composing and how it offered so much control and so many options during use. I really enjoyed my time using that camera, but then came life, and I had to sell it.

That’s where my story with the formerly-owned pristine Mamiya kit ends, and my current journey with a very well kept C330 (with one of the ugliest 80mm lenses I’ve ever seen) begins.

This story is more or less about the wonders that can be explored (and explored confidently) with a lens that doesn’t seem like it could give good results. Because the truth is, we can spent hundreds or even thousands of dollars less on a beat-up lens and still get sharp, well balanced, contrasty, and flare free results, even with glass that looks like it was pulled out of the bottom of Indiana Jones’ side bag 33 years after his retirement. Hairy, dinged and dusty, rough as an elbow and still shining.

The snow has been replaced with trees heavy in themselves, leaning and giving off their scents. Puffs of green dotting along lane after lane beside other long stemmed flowering cities and fluffy ground covers. Some wearing clusters of lovely thin layers, yellow, white, pink and so on, inviting bees and butterflies for seasonal conversation and sending them off with gifts.

This is the blue sky backdrop where my new kit was welcomed in. I first opened the box it came in and was a little worried. Having bought it online and in “heavily used” condition, where the photos were not so telling, I was unsure of what to expect. Right away I noticed the circular scratches covering both lenses. Looking a little closer I saw what looked at first like specks of dirt, or maybe some kind of lens coating issue. I quickly ran to my room and grabbed some cotton swabs, a little isopropyl, and gave them both a visit to the doctor.

I cleaned the lens bodies, for there was a bit of grime all over, and lastly the elements themselves. That’s when I noticed there was definitely an issue. The issue wasn’t with the shutter mechanism or the aperture blades being sticky, or any of the common issues that one finds when buying old gear (and especially older leaf shutter lenses). It was something I had never seen before on any other lens, and it sort of freaked me out.

Pitting. There were tons of tiny little dings all over both front elements. Now. I don’t know if you have ever experienced this yourself, and if you have perhaps you’ll understand, but if you haven’t, let me tell you that it’s horrifying!

I didn’t know what to do, and I bounced around in my head whether or not to contact the seller, start looking into potential repair, possibly look into buying new front elements… the list goes on. Eventually, having given some time to looking and focusing inside and outside through the bright finder of the C330, I decided to load the camera with some Kodak Tmax 100 and go for a walk. It was a bright day, and I figured this would be a great time to test for softness and flaring or any other aberrations that may accompany such an ugly set of lenses. I gave the camera a little pat on the back, dropped an extra roll of Tri X 400 into my shirt pocket and headed out.

There isn’t anything special about my setup. No grip, just strapped and hanging there waiting to be scooped, held and cranked, and I did just that. Walking through that day glow looking at all the houses and parked cars with rosebush back drops, tulips hugging tulips the way they do, watching cats maneuver through yards and follow squirrel tracks. I looked for test images to make terrible negatives, sure that the resulting images would my new lenses out to pasture. Then I would reach out in some new direction to try for a solution to the problem of the pitted lens.

I wandered down alleys, finding new growth climbing the sides of blinding white sheds and garages leaning with time. I don’t use a light meter so I was really going for the gusto here, trying to see how well the lens could handle the brightness. I knelt down in a shaded area under the trees, trying for images that gave the lens some respite and would push it from the other end of the spectrum. I don’t fully know what I was expecting to find, but probably some sort of fogged out, soft images with lots of weird distorted points that I would see, and give up on, lightly tossing the negatives into my bowl filled with scraps for future negative collage.

I carried on, probably walking for about an hour. Finishing the roll of Tmax and loving the general feel and function of the camera again. Oh, the familiarity of knowing. I loaded up the Tri X and went through maybe three images before circling back to once more find myself outside of my house. I went inside and got prepared to develop the roll and see the results (with no small amount of hesitancy).

I develop all of my black and white film (except for Ilford XP2, which is a C41 process film) in Cinestill Df96 monobath, so it’s a very simple process. I know it, I like it, its consistent, and it takes no time. After developing, I hung the negatives to dry and looking at them while they just hung there in the dim light of my room, I didn’t see much to prompt an immediate conclusion in how the lens performed, so I told myself to chill and carry on doing something else for the time being.

I went out into the living room with my tripod and a flash and decided to shoot the rest of the Tri X with flash. Doing some self portraits and stuff with a banana and just whatever I could think of in the moment for the last few frames, I still had some reservations. Not knowing how much detail would be lost even with the wonderful crispness that adding flash can bring, I trudged on. The roll ended, I went to the kitchen shook and wiped out the Patterson, the reels and loaded up the Tri X for development. I figured that while this roll was drying I could scan the Tmax and see what I was dealing with, and then sandwiched by both discoveries I could truly have answers. So I did just that.

With the Mamiya sitting just beside me on the table, I scanned image after image from that walk just hours before and what I saw was very surprising. Mostly very usable images, with the right amount of contrast and, yes, yes, some blown out highlights, which I was expecting. But that is not the lens’ fault, that was user error. Not using a meter sometimes jeopardizes my final image, but never in a way that I can’t fix it in post with software or in the darkroom. So I wasn’t bummed or caught off guard, knowing that blown highlights wasn’t something to expect every time I used the lens. I continued scanning and continued to be happy to know it performs well while the flash roll dried, hanging there… looking at me. What to expect next!

Then the time came. I don’t shoot flash in this way, nearly ever. The most flash photography I had really done up to this point was with point and shoots. So the flash I had attached was nothing fancy, some little Vivitar deal. And for this reason, the flash roll had me more nervous. No meter, indoors, with flash, without much experience, with a lens that I was still unsure of.

Let the scanning begin!

Frame after frame, yet again, I was stunned. Not by the subject matter or composition, but by the amount of detail in the highlights and shadows. The mid tones were there making an appearance as well! I was so happy, and really pleased that I didn’t make a huge mistake. I was convinced that in the future I could be scrolling through lenses or looking at lenses in a free or cheap box and find a lens that normally would be on the pricier side or about to be thrown away, pick it up for dirt cheap because of how “ugly” it was and end up making some, to me, perfect images.

I really think this is a mostly untapped market for buyers and the resale value and potential is not guaranteed, nor should it be at this stage, but it’s so worth it. If you are looking for something that has been used into the ground but still has much more to offer, based on your budget, having more options, your work flow or just finding it on a shelf somewhere, pick it up, pop it on whatever camera you are wanting to use that day, and give it the time of its life. These lenses aren’t being newly made and this could be that lens’ last ride. I’m truly happy that the last time this Mamiya Sekor was used by the previous owner was not its last moment to shine. With me, it will get to experience a whole new life in all of its glorious, banged up brilliance.

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These were the words spoken to me by the barman of a hotel in Rye, East Sussex, when I mentioned that I was planning to visit the Dungeness on the last day of my holiday. I feel that these sort of vaguely negative generalizations about anywhere other than exactly where you live are an essential part of English culture. I wouldn’t normally reproduce such remarks, except said barman quickly backed it up with an assurance that he had lived there for nine years. Possibly he had a point.

Despite the warning, less than twelve hours later I was rattling along the edge of the Kent foreshore on one of England’s less comfortable regional bus rides. I was the only passenger to alight at the Pilot Inn on  the fringe of Dungeness.

I load the Yashica Mat with a roll of Ilford Ortho film. It’s a bright day on a giant beach and there’s such a richness of textures. It’s crying out for a low ISO film, and Ortho Plus is the only film of which I’m carrying more than one roll.

Regardless of whether or not Dungeness is bleak, it certainly is an oddity. One of Europe’s largest expanses of shingle (land, typically a beach, which is made up of pebbles rather than the more common sand) it’s often described as Britain’s only desert. The meteorological office denies this, and whilst Dungeness may not technically be a desert, to a casual passer-by it certainly has the feeling of one. Vast swathes of empty shingle with little conventional flora and fauna to break up the landscape.

It’s also home to two lighthouses and a giant nuclear power station, and these three battle for the title of Dungeness’ dominant feature. Fleets of fishing boats past and present litter the shingle beach, along with tens of rusted winches. Post apocalyptic is probably an unkind term to use. I think the people of Dungeness wouldn’t notice the apocalypse, maybe partly due to the existing look of the place, but mainly because I imagine they wouldn’t want to be bothered by such outside business. They’d rather just continue life amongst the shingle.

There is just one road through Dungeness. It’s a private estate. At the start of the road there’s a huge sign listing the estate rules including ‘no filming or professional photography.’ I muse over how I’d prove my amateur status if challenged. Show them a portfolio of distinctly average photos? Explain that a full understanding of the zone system eludes me? Point to the lack of a huge commercial market for sub-par black and white architectural photos?

Thankfully I remain unchallenged, and further research points to the fact that ban comes from a history of photographers who’ve turned up with tripods, lighting, models, and who offload and set all this up in gardens of homes, on the protected habitat of the shingle, and the boats. I resolve not to be this kind of photographer, partly because if you come to an area specifically to photograph it and care little about irritating the locals you’re probably a bad photographer. More precisely, you’re definitely a bad person.

For all the weird and wonderful things in Dungeness I end up drawn to the houses, the aforementioned sheds. There are very few substantial brick built buildings in Dungeness. I counted one cottage, the lifeboat station, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, the nuclear power station and lighthouses.

The remainder of the buildings are an eclectic mix of weather-boarded huts, small shacks built around a brick chimney, and old railway carriages converted into ramshackle dwellings. Given Dungeness is dead flat and suffers near constant buffeting by the fierce winds off the English Channel it’s something of a miracle that these houses manage to cling on to the Shingle.

It seems like many of Dungeness’ residents have made Dungeness home because it offers an escape from the pressures of the outside world. Residents range from artists, to the last defiant fishermen of the Dungeness fishing fleet. Certainly it’s unlike much of the outside world, and the bustle that creeps over much of South East England is distinctly absent.

But, like so many interesting places, Dungeness is changing. I briefly passed through seven years ago and since then there’s been a small influx of architecturally avant-garde takes on the Dungeness shack. Sturdier, bolder, unquestionably more expensive, they’re clearly tailored to a newer more bourgeois kind of resident. That feels a shame. Part of living somewhere like Dungeness means putting up with its privations, but then I suppose money lets you opt out of privations.

Photographing the houses is not without its challenges. I don’t want to be invasive and get too close, nor do I want every house to be a tiny speck. I’m also half expecting an estate manager to barrel along in a battered pickup and ask me just what I think I’m doing taking photographs. At which point I suppose I’ll have to flail and protest desperately that I’m an amateur. I must be. I don’t even have Squarespace website.

I make it to the foot of the old lighthouse and the approach to the nuclear power station and decide that lunch is in order. I nip into the Britannia Inn, the only pub in Dungeness proper, which happily has both a roaring fire and a rather excellent crab salad on the menu. It’s a sunny but cold early spring day and other patrons are a bit thin on the ground, but the experience is still a pleasant one.

After lunch I continue to amble round, photographing the power station and lighthouses, before heading back along Dungeness’ one and only road. I reach the Pilot Inn again, and wait fifteen minutes for the bus back to Rye. I’m still trying to work out my feelings on Dungeness. I can see why it seems to fascinate people. It’s quite unlike anywhere else I’ve been in Britain.

Perhaps my own thoughts on Dungeness are slightly academic. For the people who call the shingle home, it certainly holds a special charm. Whatever my own thoughts might be, I hope that those who live there can continue their existence in their shacks. It might be a bold choice, but I’ve got a small window into why they’ve made it. Will I be moving? I doubt I could afford it these days anyway.

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

Today’s Guest Post was submitted by…

Jacob Downey, an amateur photographer living in South West England. After re-discovering both photography and film in early 2019 he’s been working his way through a steady stream of rolls since then, usually filled with architecture, industrial heritage and seaside towns.

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The post Dungeness Architecture Shot with a Yashica Mat and Ilford Ortho Plus appeared first on Casual Photophile.

This high cost and sparse availability of film heading into the new year leads me to predict (and it’s not much of a stretch) that 2023 will be the most expensive year ever for film photographers.

In my never-ending quest to add value to your hobby, I’ve sweated the details and come up with five simple and effective ways of lessening the burden of cost for those of us who shoot film. Here they are; some easily-implemented cost-cutting measures to keep the film dream alive in spite of the recent and upcoming price hikes.

1) Bulk Load Your Own Film

Bulk loading is a “trick” that frugal photographers have been using for decades, but for those who aren’t familiar with the terminology or what it means, here’s a crash course. Instead of buying the usual individual 24 or 36 exposure rolls of 35mm film, we buy one massive 100ft roll of the same film and load it into special reusable film cartridges ourselves. By doing so, we’re able to effectively cut the cost of each roll of film dramatically (in some cases by as much as 45%). Many black and white films are available to buy in 100ft rolls, including the omni-popular Ilford HP5 Plus and Kodak Tri-X, and cheaper alternatives as well.

To bulk load your own film you’ll need to buy some special (albeit inexpensive) equipment. Here’s what you’ll need to start bulk loading your film. I’ve used these products myself, and they’re recommended.

• Legacy Pro Lloyd Daylight Bulk Film Loader
• Kalt 35mm Re-Usable Film Cassettes (buy a few of these, and don’t cheap out and try to reuse non-reusable film canisters as they almost certainly will scratch your film)
• Scotch tape
• A daylight changing bag for initially filling the Bulk Loader with your 100ft roll of film (optional, as you can do this in a darkroom, but it must be a truly dark room – that means no light)
• A 100 ft roll of your 35mm film of choice!

The process of bulk loading is easy. I won’t fully tutorialize the process here. There are entire articles and YouTube videos on the process elsewhere. But briefly – you load your bulk roll of film into your Daylight Bulk Film Loader in total darkness. Next, scotch tape the end of the film from the Daylight Loader onto a spool from one of your reusable canisters. Insert the canister into the Bulk Loader, attach the crank, and crank it the appropriate number of times in order to spool the desired length of film into the canister. Remove the canister, snip the film, load it into your camera… profit!

Drawbacks of bulk loading film? Sure, there are a few! We’re sacrificing our time for money. It doesn’t take long to spool some film into a canister, but it does take some small measure of time. You must determine if the trade-off is worth it (maybe prep your film canisters during other time-wasting activities, such as watching YouTube?). Another drawback – the bulk loading cassettes do not feature DX coding, so they should only be used in cameras which have the capability to manually select ISO [If you don’t know what ISO is, here you go!]. Lastly, until you become a master of bulk loading it’s likely that you’ll get a few light leaks or ruined rolls due to user error when loading your film into your canisters. These errors will disappear over time.

2) Be More Mindful While Shooting

Of the five suggestions made in this article, this one may be the most contentious. But it’s valid. To save money shooting film, maybe shoot less film?

What I mean by that is slow down, take your time, think about your photo. When you’ve got the camera raised to your eye and your finger’s hovering delicately over that shutter release button, take a second to look at what you’re seeing in the viewfinder and imagine it as a final print. Is there anything there? Anything within that frame worth burning onto film? Would you take what you’re seeing in that viewfinder and frame and hang it on a wall?

Many of you already do this, I’m sure. But some of you probably don’t (I get it – you’ve got a Nikon F5 and simply can’t resist that 8 FPS burst mode). But this technique of studious, real-time, pre-fire photo critique is how I’ve gotten my hit rate, that’s the number of “worthwhile images” per roll of film, to increase over the past few years from somewhere around three “keepers” per roll to (maybe) twelve or fifteen. By being overly critical of my photography, by questioning my impulse to shoot, and by only shooting when I see an interesting shot in the viewfinder, my photography has improved and (though this was never the intention) I’ve wasted less film and spent a lot less money.

3) Develop and Scan Your Own Film

This is another somewhat obvious solution for those of us who have been shooting film for longer than the last few years, but it has always been cheaper to develop and scan your own film than to send it out and have it developed and scanned by a lab.

There will be film newcomers reading this suggestion who have already said “I can’t do that.” Let me assuage your worries. You can do it. It’s easy. If you can read numbers, use your hands to hold things, and pour liquids, you can do it. You can develop and scan your own film.

I’ve written an article about all of the gear that you’ll need to develop your own film at home, and you can read that article here. I also wrote an article outlining (and made a video tutorial showing) how to develop your own film step by step. Those should get you well on your way to developing your own film.

Scanning is another thing, but it’s equally easy. You’ll simply need a scanner and a computer. If you’re a newcomer buying a dedicated film scanner, buy this one. Don’t read the impossible to fathom suggestions on Reddit and Facebook in response to the countless “What scanner should I buy?” threads that exist on those platforms. They will only confuse you. Just spend the money and buy this scanner. Trust me. I have used them all and this one is the perfect balance of cost, usability, speed, and performance for anyone looking to scan 35mm rolls of film.

There are obvious drawbacks to developing and scanning at home. You’ll need to buy and store development chemicals. You’ll need to buy the developing equipment and scanner up front, and you won’t realize savings until you’ve developed more than a dozen rolls of film. And finally, you’ll need to trade your time for money. Developing and scanning can take considerable time. Most of us dedicate half a day to the process once we’ve got a handful of rolls ready to go. It’s kind of a pain, illustrated aptly when one of my writers snapped and wrote a full-on rant about scanning. And lastly, if we all developed and scanned our own film, many small businesses (photo labs) would go out of business (which would be sad, because the labs which exist today do amazing work).

But if cost is your primary concern, developing and scanning at home is certainly the most cost-effective way to shoot film.

4) Change Your Camera Part 1 – Shoot a More Modern Camera

A few years ago, I wrote an article headlined How to Cheat at Film Photography. In that article I outlined some tips and techniques that I’d learned over the years which helped me avoid beginner mistakes and improve the overall quality of my film photography. One of the tips was to use a more modern film camera, and I’m repeating that advice here as a way to mitigate cost.

Old film cameras look great. The Pentax K1000, the Minolta SRT series, even Leica M3s and M2s and M4s – they’re great looking cameras and people love them (and I know this, because the people who love them won’t stop telling us). But for all their old-world charm and classic functionality, these cameras are hard to use and need expert hands. They lack light meters or auto-exposure or auto-focus, or they lack all of that and more. They don’t help the photographer in any way, and in the hands of an amateur or a person who’s not constantly focused on photography (let’s say we’re at the zoo with our kids in tough light on a windy day) the resulting roll of film shot through any of these “legendary” cameras will be full of missed focus, bad exposures, and wasted shots.

Compare these cameras to any basic 35mm SLR camera from the late 1990s or early 2000s and there’s no competition. The $50 Minolta Maxxum 5 or Canon Eos Rebel will make better photos than a Leica M3 in the average users’ hands, and will ask less of the photographer while doing it. The result of making more better photos? We make less bad photos, and we waste less film.

This suggestion is certainly the hardest to prove as a cost-cutting measure, but anecdotally it tracks. Get yourself a nice SLR with auto-everything from the 1990s and save money by not wasting film.

5) Change Your Camera Part 2 – Shoot a Half Frame Camera

This is my favorite solution to the problem of rising film prices. It’s the one that makes the most sense, has the greatest impact on the bottom line, and demands the fewest compromises of the photographer. By shooting a half-frame camera we can effectively double the number of photos that we can make with every roll of film. That means that our dollar is going twice as far. Or, if you want to look at it inversely, it means that every roll of film we buy is half-price!

If you’re new to film cameras, you may not know what half-frame means. Half frame cameras use normal 35mm film, but they squeeze two images onto a single frame. This means you’ll get 72 exposures on a normal 36 exposure roll of film. Many companies made half-frame cameras over the decades, and in all sorts of form factors. The Yashica Samurai is a ridiculous camcorder-like machine that will be enjoyed by people who wear fanny packs in 2021 and beyond. The Canon Multi-Tele is a point and shoot in the traditional style with a versatile and switchable half-frame/full-frame functionality. The Agat 18K will be perfect for those who like things that are plastic, and from Belarus.

And then there’s the greatest 35mm half-frame camera of all time. The half-frame camera that feels as solid as a Leica. The half-frame camera that works as beautifully as a mechanical watch and is as compact as a point and shoot. It’s the Olympus Pen F.

I will hold myself back here. I won’t write ten more paragraphs on why the Olympus Pen F (or Pen FT) is one of the finest cameras I’ve ever held. I won’t tell you about how well-made it is, about the series of impossibly small lenses that mount to it, about the ingenious sideways mirror assembly and the even more genius rotating titanium foil shutter curtain, and I won’t mention the feeling of weightiness that I get when holding it (not from its actual weight, which is perfect, but from knowing that it was designed by one of the most important and influential camera designers in history). I won’t tell you any of that. Instead, I’ll tell you to click this link and read Josh’s (much more than a) review, and then head to eBay and buy your own Pen. You’ll love the camera, you’ll love the photos it makes, and you’ll spend half as much film.

That’s all I’ve got. If you have any further advice for our readers on how to save money on film in these tough times, share them with us in the comments below.

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The post Worried About the Rising Cost of Film Photography? Here Are Some Ways to Cope appeared first on Casual Photophile.

Here’s everything that I learned shooting my vacation on film.

Expired Film is Terrible

Here I am, complaining about expired film. This is nothing new. I complained about it here, in a hyperbolic fever dream of pain and suffering. In another fun article I satirically skewered expired film with my rapier wit (and only one guy in the comments missed that the entire article was a self-deprecating joke). Even when expired film didn’t totally ruin every photo I made, as when I shot it for this article penned last summer, I made sure to whine and cry about shooting the stuff.

Every time I shoot expired film I think I’ve learned my lesson. Why, then, did I think it would be a good idea to bring nothing but expired film on the first vacation that my family and I would take in over two years? Oh, that’s right, because I’m very stupid.

And so it was last month that my few brain cells and I packed my carry-on bag with ten rolls of various types of expired film just prior to boarding a plane to Florida. Slide film, C41 color, black-and-white; I brought it all and shot it all during my time away with the family. Just yesterday my scans arrived from the lab by e-mail, and you’ll never guess what happened next!

You probably guessed.

I was disappointed.

The lab technician’s notes said it all – “You were working with some old film here, so expect the usual; low contrast, tons of grain, color shifts and bad exposures.” I opened the folders and, sure enough, found low contrast, tons of grain, color shifts and bad exposures.

Over the next five hours I did everything that I could to salvage the best of the shots in Lightroom, and some of the photos have ended up… fine. I might even like some of them – wow! But getting these shots to where they are now took major adjustments. And there’s no escaping the truth that the shots that I like would’ve been liked a lot more had they been shot on new film or with a digital camera. They’d be crisp and sharp and pop with vibrancy and beautiful colors and tonality and show ultra-fine grain and – oh, can you imagine? Well, you’ll have to imagine. Because the shots I got, ain’t it.

Expired film can, of course, be a beautiful medium. But its unpredictability and unreliability, its extremely low hit rate, and its high cost (why are people selling expired film for more than fresh film?) make it a no-go for me in any but the most frivolous situations. I should’ve learned my lesson years ago, and maybe I have by now – expired film sometimes, but never when the photo matters.

One Lens Only, Please

From one hard lesson to one which I’ve finally internalized after seven years of shooting cameras professionally. I only need one lens.

Over the past seven years I’ve packed my bag for trips like this one with way too many cameras and lenses. I’d bring the wide-angle prime for that perfect landscape photo. The standard fast fifty for when the light gets low and I need that bokeh. I’d pack the telephoto zoom to take a specific shot of a specific lion on the Animal Kingdom safari, knowing well that the lazy king of the jungle would be sleeping under a shade rock just out of sight every time our ridiculous safari truck rambled on by. I recall one year I even brought a tilt-shift lens, which sat unused in the air-conditioned hotel room for the entirety of the trip.

Well, this time I brought one lens. Just one. For ten days away from home. And I couldn’t be happier with that choice.

Less to pack. Less to carry. Less to worry about. And as long as I chose the right lens, the right focal length, I’d miss nothing by bringing just one chunk of glass on a family trip away.

It took me a while to find my single favorite lens from within my favorite focal length. But now that I have, there’s no going back. I’ll never travel without it. But more importantly, I’ll probably never travel with anything else.

Slide Film is Best Film

Experience has taught me, as mentioned, that expired film is bad. And in my experience, the worst of the bad is expired slide film. I don’t think I’ve ever made a single good photo from a roll of expired slide film (and I’ve tried many times). Which is why, when I was shooting the single roll of slide film which I brought with me on this particular vacation, I actively thought with every shot “Ahh, another terrible photo.”

The phrase became my mantra, repeated with a psychotic, unhinged smile. Click! “Another terrible photo…” Click! “Another terrible photo…”

Well, time has once again proven that I’m a moron. The best photos from my ten rolls of expired film all came from that single roll of expired slide film – a roll of Kodak Ektachrome E100VS (Vivid Saturation) which expired in 2014. Who could have guessed?

I can’t explain it. But I do know this – slide film is great! Even the shots from this long-dead film are great! Which leads me to think that, had this been fresh, new slide film, the shots would be damn-near stunning, even with a ham-fisted, brainless sack of oatmeal like me holding the camera.

Next vacation I’ll consider bringing nothing but new slide film and see how we do. The operative word in that sentence being “new.”

One Camera Only, Please

There’s nothing better for creating great photos than to have a perfect understanding of the camera in your hands. I don’t care what camera it is, if you don’t know how to use it fast and without conscious thought your photos will be bad (or at least not as good as they could be).

I’ve written before about how to cheat at film photography. And the biggest cheat is to use a camera that gets out of your way and lets you focus on making the photo. That’s what I did on this vacation (for the most part). I brought my favorite camera, the one that I use when I want to make a good photo, the one that feels just perfect in my hands and does everything I need.

There were no instances during the trip in which I was looking down at the camera in my hands wondering how to make it do this, or that. I never accidentally shot in the wrong mode, never accidentally forgot to set the ISO, never picked the wrong shutter speed or aperture, and never took a photo with the lens cap still on (because lens caps are for nerds and I didn’t use one – also, it’s an SLR).

The camera just worked, which in turn allowed me to just work. And more importantly, it allowed me to take pictures fast so that I could get back to having fun with my kids. When picking your next camera, eschew complication and style and instead use the camera that just works (for you)!

The Last Lesson

2020 was not a great year. Despite a positive attitude and a generally forward-marching personal philosophy, I suffered major setbacks. I won’t complain or repeat what I’ve already written about previously, and I acknowledge that plenty of people have had a harder time recently than I have. But I’d be lying if I pretended that the past year wasn’t a killer.

Political upheaval in the country where I live, natural disasters, societal unrest, doom and death and end of days, a chilled bag of misery intravenously drip-fed into us by a destructive industrial news complex where numbers mean everything, conflict means clicks, and bad news sells big ads. And all of the turmoil somehow harder to take during an isolating pandemic which replaced friends and family with the cold unfeeling screens of our computers and phones.

Worse than anything, for me and my wife, was a jarring personal loss.

It’s easy to lose sight of what matters in life, with the crowding crush of the world relentlessly pressing in from all sides upon our own tiny lives. And when the strength to push back leaves us, when we’re tired and sad and depleted, it sometimes feels like there’s nothing we can do except to be crushed under it. We suffocate. Or we find some strength and push back.

This vacation, one where I took 360-odd photos, 70 of which might be decent, has helped me push back on the saddest year of my life. The trip was magic, the photography (a hobby which I’ve not engaged with in any real capacity in over a year) was fresh and useful. And looking through these photos for the first time last night reminded me of a lesson I’ve known for years, but had nearly forgotten. The last lesson learned shooting my vacation on film; photography is good, and family is everything.

The post What I Learned Shooting My Vacation on Film appeared first on Casual Photophile.