Teaching the Analog Way of Life
In a world where everything unfolds at an extraordinary pace, where all the information we require is at our fingertips, and where language and distance barriers no longer hinder us, we are perpetually beset by distractions. The art of experiencing boredom has become a distant memory, tucked away in the corners of nostalgia.
In a world where information bombards our minds incessantly – be it jokes, news, quick DIY projects, songs, dances, or the full spectrum of human quirks – disconnecting can be quite the challenge. To lean back, clear our minds, and return to simpler tasks, free from interference, noise, and distractions, is a rare treat. It's just us, fully devoted to tasks we often take for granted – tidying the house, brewing a cup of coffee, creating a painting, and the like. The key is to try to remain fully present.
I must acknowledge that I find this task rather challenging. Life speeds by, and there's always something demanding our attention. In this fast-paced existence, it's a considerable challenge not to be perpetually glued to our "smartphones." I've even caught myself reading articles on my phone while chopping onions for dinner.
Now, let's contemplate the younger generation – those who were born into a world saturated with screens and digital devices. Toddlers on airplanes clutch iPads, children lose themselves in video games, and are perpetually engrossed in checking enticing red notifications on their screens. The "fear of missing out" is palpable, giving rise to anxiety among our children, who remain glued to their screens, tracking stories from hundreds of friends they barely know. As a parent of two teenagers, these concerns weigh heavily on my mind.
My son is an enthusiast phone photographer. He captures shots with his mobile phone, skillfully edits them, and rapidly shares his creations with the world and I have to say, he's really good at it. A few weeks ago, I embarked on a modest project with him, introducing him to the world of analog photography. Together, we bought a 400 ISO black and white film and I lent him my Canon A1 – a camera I've cherished since I was 16.
The twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable as we loaded the film into the camera together, delving into discussions about manual settings. We explored the intricacies of exposure, aperture, and focus, emphasizing the importance of a steady hand. Then came the pivotal moment – the click. As he captured that first shot, his instinct was to glance at the screen, only to remember there was none. The image existed solely in his mind and on the unprocessed film – a concept that left him momentarily awestruck. The smartphone was momentarily forgotten.
Together, we embarked on quests through the streets of Brighton, seeking captivating scenes – graffiti on weathered walls, seagulls foraging for scraps, people, and desolate alleyways. It was a beautiful experience, bridging generational gaps and blurring the lines between the digital and analog worlds. After using up all 36 shots, we hastened to the darkroom.
"Are you prepared?" I asked. We had rehearsed the process in the light, but now the real challenge lay before us, guided only by touch and memory. In the total darkness, he reached for the tools, and in silence, successfully completed the mission.
The room remained cloaked in inky blackness until he finally broke the silence: "Papi!, I think it's done." As the room bathed in light, the film lay safely hidden in the canister, and his glowing smile was a testament to triumph.
In the lab, we mixed chemicals. I provided him with the proportions, and he handled the mixing. He set the right temperature and timing, commencing the development process. He shook the film, waited, and navigated through the chemical baths. The joy of witnessing negative images transform into positives was palpable.
The shared experience with my son has been nothing short of remarkable. It reignited the flame of creativity in his hands and imparted valuable lessons: the art of observation, patience, and the capacity to contemplate life's multifaceted aspects. Most importantly, it instilled trust in the process and in oneself, even in the darkest of moments. This exercise has teach us that life is indeed just like a camera, we should focus in what is important, capture the good times, develop from the negatives, and when things don’t work out, just take another shot!
Miguel Amortegui
