Polaroid

Over the past few years, I’ve been working out a creative impulse that’s been haunting me for far longer than I can remember. See, I have this dream of traveling across the United States and photographing its aging amusement parks – and while digital photography is great for quantity and clarity, nothing captures the true atmosphere of a dying carnival like a Polaroid. Yeah, I’ve worked out some tricks in Photoshop to make regular photos look Polaroid-y, but there’s nothing like holding one in your hands.

Of course, I always knew that I’d have to get to these amusement parks before they were completely destroyed or rebuilt – which is why I visited Coney Island last year when its de- and reconstruction became inevitable. I spent a hot summer day holding hands with a nice girl, utterly destroying her at air hockey, and taking a great deal of Polaroids of odd details here and there. I did the same thing in Wildwood, NJ a little later that same summer, but while I was still plotting a path of creation for this upcoming summer, I got the bad news.

Polaroid is going to stop making their instant film. The end. My Spectra AF Instant Camera, instrument of so many eerie and beautiful images, would be rendered obsolete. My creative aspirations would be cut short by this older technology being phased out. According to the Polaroid website, the official last expiration date of all Spectra film is August 2009, while it has already stopped manufacture.

Of course, photography aficionados and creatives are aghast. Polaroid instant films have since skyrocketed in demand and are sold out at many traditional photography retailers – very ironic, considering that Polaroid was shutting down the factory because of poor market conditions. While Polaroid film was never cheap, averaging about $1 per shot, many retailers who still have the product in stock have doubled and tripled the usual prices, sensing an opportunity for profit. Photographers looking to stock up should note that the film has a relatively short expiration date as well.

Unless another company steps in with the magic formula to replace Polaroid’s Spectra film with a second party alternative, the future looks bleak. While Polaroid blames the ‘digital age’ for its misfortunes, as do many manufacturers, us romantics just aren’t enough to support the flagging corporation, even with online petitions. The digital age, in fact, brings us such observational gems as this, found over at a Switched.com article about the death of the Polaroid :

“Are all you people that far behind on photography. Come on now sence [sic] 1948 pictures have taken on a hole [sic] new meaning. “

… but it also brings us online petitions.

Sometime in the next year, I’ll ceremoniously shoot one final Polaroid of a broken ferris wheel, or a fortune telling machine with a peeling label, and I’ll sigh, lamenting the end of a beautiful collection.

I’ve never been able to grasp photography as I have some of the other visual arts. Sure, I can paint and draw stuff, and I’ve even made a few short films, but capturing a perfect section of reality on a perfect section of film has always eluded me, even moreso when I had to start mixing chemicals to make it appear on a piece of paper. Over the course of my attendance at art school, I taught myself to approach these more difficult arts by embracing their imperfections and emphasizing them to a point of beauty. I spent an entire semester of metal shop by digging in the scrap bin and over-welding every joint I made, and by never polishing my printing plates properly, I managed to pull out some pretty intense textures. Well, I could call them ‘textures’ in critiques – in truth, they were simply the products of my greasy fingers.

So, I have a tendency to shy away from the pristine. I’d rather hear a scratchy LP that a sanitized, cleaned up copy of the same, and I’d rather see a photograph with muted colors and dust spots than a hi-resolution digital image. That’s just the way I roll – knee deep in anachronisms and before-my-timery. If I could hook up an old Corona typewriter up to my Mac Mini instead of this keyboard, I’d probably feel more at home. Also, if the Mac were made of bakelite and rusted metal cogs and I had to pedal or pump some kind of steampunk bellows to make it run. It’s this love of anachronism, paired with some interesting online art communities, that I fell in love with Through The Viewfinder, or TTV, photography.

Essentially, TTV is the art using a camera, which we shall call Camera One, to take a photograph of the viewfinder of Camera Two, while Camera Two is focused on the subject of your choice. Camera One, which takes the actual photograph, is usually a digital camera, whereas Camera Two is a regular ol’ analog camera. Camera Two does not take a photograph, but instead serves as a static conduit for the incoming image. This photograph that you end up taking is visually altered by the unusual systems of mirrors and lenses that the second camera uses. This usually results in various blurring, refracting and prism effects on the final image – and if you’re using an older camera, dusty specks. It’s automatic vintage, and you don’t even need to shove it up Photoshop’s nose.

Since you’re taking a photograph OF a viewfinder, it stands to reason that you’d want a large target to shoot at. We’re not talking about the LCD readout on the back of your digital – we’re looking for real glass-and-mirrors stuff. The most popular camera for this kind of photography is the Kodak Duaflex camera, a TLR (twin lens reflex) camera which features a large 2” x 2” viewfinder and an internal mirror. For anyone born after the last three decades, this is no palm-sized camera. It’s a big, chunky thing that you must hold below you and look down into in order to see what you’re taking a photo of. As a camera, it creates medium format negatives for the professional photographer. For TTV purposes, it has a relatively large viewfinder and captures a lot of detail. Also popular are the Starflex and Kinaflex cameras.

Kodak made four versions of their Duaflex, conveniently called ‘Duaflex’, ‘Duaflex II’, ‘Duaflex III’ and finally, 1957’s ‘Duaflex IV’. Please note that these cameras are neither called the ‘Dualflex’ nor the ‘Duraflex’, though using such terms on eBay will greatly increase your search results from sellers who do not bother to read the labeling on what they’re selling.

I started adding Duaflex cameras to my arsenal of visual devices, right next to the Polaroid Spectra. I’ve never been a camera collector before, mostly due to my uneasy relationship with the device and many unsatisfying photo courses, but my bandolier of cameras seems to be ever-growing. I always take pleasure in subverting devices and formulas to my own unexpected ends. For an investment of well under 20 bucks per camera, I’ve found myself with a full line of vintage Duaflex cameras, with more incoming and about to be subjected to various dissection experiments. Many eBay auctions seem to come with complete camera carrying cases and loads of flashbulbs, and even long-expired film to play with.

For a world going increasingly all-digital, it feels good to take another step backwards in the name of beauty. Check out the photos above, and in our Community Section, for examples of TTV photography, and stay tuned for Wednesday’s instructional about how to make your own TTV device.

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