Rome + the Analog Commitment

I just returned from a whirlwind trip to Rome, a Saturday-to-Saturday quick adventure to another of the world’s great cities. Photographically, I find myself drawn more and more to these types of places, because I know that they’re filled with variety in people, backgrounds; objects of interest in the up-close and the far-away. And there is the walking. Always so much walking, down endless lanes that twist and turn only to place you – amazed and breathless – at some amazing discovery. A fountain, a monument, the perfect small café. Whether it is Paris, Tokyo, New York City, or in this case, Rome – it’s a story I can live over and over again. 

My love of photography has led, logically, to the acquisition of a number of pieces of great equipment, both digital and analog. Most of it is centered around the Leica M system, with a few great lenses and bodies in my possession.  My analog Leica MP is one of my most prized cameras; I wish digital bodies had the same brick-like construction (the M9 and MP240 are close…), but that’s another story. In the past six months, however, I’ve fallen in love with the Leica iiig. The simple elegance, Swiss watch construction, beautiful optics…it can’t be beat. People who dismiss my use of it as some sort of nostalgia-trip or a hipster fetish with using old things are sorely mistaken. I use it because it is a superb camera and an absolute joy to use. I treat fine cameras the same way I treat musical instruments, where it is very common for a guitar player to acquire and love (and play regularly) a Telecaster from 1961, for example, because of the feel and the sound. It’s that simple. Unlike with digital – where your iphone from only 4 years ago won’t run any apps anymore (the subject of another essay at some point), film is thankfully lacking in that rat race…we’re not ‘obliged’ somehow in film photography to use the ‘latest creation of technology’.  And a Leica iiig is hardly like using a gigantic camera with a wooden tripod and a dark blanket over my head.

Normally I travel to a great city with a quiver of gear, both analog and digital. This time I made a conscious choice – I would go carry-on, and only take the Leica iiig with me. For glass, I had the 50mm Elmar f3.5, a Voigtlander 28mm f3.5 Color Skopar, and a Leica 90mm Elmar f4. A spare spool and baseplate, the 28mm SLOOZ viewfinder, that’s basically it.

I realized when I returned and started to process the rolls though that there was something very special happening, and it wasn’t something I’d thought of before and went looking to describe after the fact in some act of confirmation bias towards the iiig.  The film vs. digital debate is moot and dead for me – I shoot both and enjoy both.  But what I noticed – impossible when I shoot digital – was that each roll was different, reflected a slightly different state of mind. There were differences not only in the emulsions and chemistry I used, but in the actual way I shot that day, with that roll.  Just subtle, but it was there. The best analogy I can give is that of different songs on the same great album…it’s the same artist, and there is something from a sound perspective that often unifies the tracks (think Dark Side of the Moon as a perfect example). But each track is a little bit different. Or they’re like chapters in the same book. With digital, it often looks or feels more like a run-on sentence. Not always, but often enough that I noticed the difference. I’ve seen this on other trips as well, but it finally hit me, came together as I slowly went through each roll.

I’m not sure, but perhaps the act of finishing a roll, and loading a fresh one, can serve as a bit of a re-set for the mind and the eye.  It forces us to a discipline of closing a chapter and moving to a new one in service of moving the plot forward.  I had a wonderful time being completely committed to the analog in Rome, and I can’t wait to do the same thing again.