In the absence of colour, what's left?
I feel as though I'm seeing things I'd never seen in colour: the dust on a bookshelf, the shadows on the stage. I think I'll be making a few more black and white posts this winter while I try to focus in on the shapes, tones, and motion of campus life. It'll be helpful to approach my colour photography with an eye trained for the kinds of textures and details that monochrome images naturally draw attention to.
So even though I mostly shoot digital photos at low-light indoor events like last week's Acta Victoriana social, I'm glad I took the time to make some images on film. Often people say that one of the major drawbacks of shooting events on film is the delay between taking the photos and actually getting to see them. There's truth to this, which is why I so often choose digital when I'd rather use film, but I want to emphasize that the wait time for processing isn't an inconvenience external to the act of photographing; it's just another part of the process of creating.
Across all of my work, I want to learn the joy of the slow reveal: the fifteen-minute walk over to the film lab, the brief wait at the shop counter, the moment I finally sit down to look at my scans and the anticipation of it, holding the negatives up to the sunlight the whole way home.