It's hard to not fall into all the cliches of shooting with film — it's so much more intimate and authentic and simple and slow. Pretentiousness be damned, but I'm not above waxing poetic about the benefits of carting around a dusty 1970 Minolta unearthed in my grandpa's basement; when was the last time, for example, that you got a roll of film developed? Do you remember the utter excitement of what those images would look like as you drove to the store to pick them up? The fervor with which you opened the envelope they were in? The disappointment of shots too dark or light, and the sheer joy of a perfectly-exposed image from a hike or event or day you had previously forgotten about? Even if it was a disposable camera used at summer camp in 6th grade, I'm certain you've had a similar experience if you were born before 1995.
Anyways, enough of that. The point is, I've been shooting more and more with a 1970 Canon procured from my grandpa's extensive collection, and the images below are a result of two rolls shot in the last year — overexposed shots of the backpacking bachelorette party I did with my best friend before her wedding last year, of the hardwoods and rivers of my home state and the red sand arches of road trips through the desert, of days on snow and mornings in hot springs and friends met on rivers and chairlifts and bar stools along the way. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
