All the traces and reminiscences

I take back what I said about disposable cameras while traveling. The plastic waste made my eye twitch, and I realized I could just spend P200 on a new Aquapix that I wouldn’t mind scratching up. Smaller, cuter, more film options. The one I got is lime green (or Neo Pearl Champagne), which coincidentally was the color of the first Aquapix I ever owned. 

When I went to Seoul I loaded it with Lomography LomoChrome ’92, which captured the autumn of it all pretty well. The shot above is my favorite, taken at Yeouido Hangang Park. The original composition was perfect, but I had to crop it because part of my finger was in frame. Still obsessed. 

The picture on the left was taken last February when I first went to Seoul. I found myself in the same area from the other side and unwittingly took a bookender in November. 

This little pizza nook was so cute and I wanted to step inside, but I’d already booked a ride back to my hotel. 

I’m just absolutely in love with the street that greets you from Anguk Station and the many possibilities it holds. 

Of course I had to make a diptych of both shots I took before exiting certain subway stations. I want to make it a whole series as I keep traveling to Seoul. 

These don’t have the pops of red from the floor and ceiling that the photos I took on my phone do, but I like how they have a more glitch-y feel. 

I loved walking past the row of shops outside my hotel as I made my way to the subway. There’s a flower shop, a bakery, this fruit stand, and a place that had steaming dumplings right on the street, so I’d catch their delicious scent and warmth every time I passed. 

This didn’t turn out as well but I liked the composition and it would be so fun to draw.  

More subway stairs. I like how this one has a bit more to see of the street beyond.

Flowers at a bus stop in the middle of the road as the day winds down.

I SOLD MY SOUL TO THE PLASTIC SEA

This post should pretty much confirm that I have, indeed, entered another obsessive toy camera phase. There's an entire sort-of-underground market (based in Japan and Hong Kong more than some, I've noticed) that specializes in such (mostly) plastic perfection, and it's quite the technological marvel, actually. The products are highly collectible (sometimes limited edition, damn it!), often tinier than usual, so well-designed and colorful it should be illegal, super affordable, lightweight and portable, and best of all, actually pack a huge dose of function, if you don't mind lo-fi, unpredictable images. Basically, another amalgamation of all that I love.

I think they really manage to bring the uniqueness of analog photography into a decidedly digital world by occasionally taking away LCD screens, so you won't see what you've shot until later (and which makes for cheaper cameras, I'd bet), but also removing the need to process film. They have special features and built-in effects that give the resulting pictures character. Just point, shoot, shoot some more, then plug in to check out what you've made. Lovely. Genius. When I take my D3000 with me, I often have to deal with its size and weight, and taking pictures is more of a process because the professional quality demands for the shot to be just right. These are the complete opposite, and I can just keep snapping without worrying about it being perfect all the time. It is, after all, just playing around and experimenting and having fun, with an added element of surprise.

This is a roundup and sort-of wish list of cameras I've wanted forever and some I just recently discovered. I'm planning to get some of them this year, so that the Mini DV camera I bought last year finally has some cute company.

Digital Classic Camera Leica M3 by Minox

I first discovered this around five years ago and I haven't had any sleep since. Launched in 2003, this miniature replica of the Leica M3 goes for approximately $250, which accounts for its sleek metal body (with movable levers that don't really do anything) and leather finish. As a model fixed-focus camera, it weighs less than a hundred grams without its CR2 battery and fits right in the palm of your hand, and the latest version (5.0 megapixels) has a 32 MB internal memory and video-recording capabilities. It's also the first edition with an LCD screen (although personally I'd rather do without it) and a slot to expand memory. Image quality is decent enough, not stellar. The back feels a little clunky because part of it juts out. But, whatever, look at it! I'm still holding out hope that I'll finally be able to get myself this someday. 

Rolleiflex AF5.0 MiniDigi

Like a considerable number of people, I tend to see the Minox Leica M3 and the Rolleiflex MiniDigi as life partners, mostly since I found out about them at the same time. It's also probably because they're both classy miniature replicas that share a lot of traits: The Rollei weighs 90 grams, has a 5.0-megapixel resolution and so-so actual photo quality (in square format), is made with quality materials, is powered by a CR2 battery, and also has a memory card slot. However, the MiniDigi requires you to shell out roughly $575 (sob!) before it becomes yours. But it's almost worth it for its coolest feature, which, of course, the original twin-lens Rolleiflex cameras had, too—you take photos by positioning it at waist-level or so, as the 1.1-inch LCD viewfinder is located at the top of the body, and you need to wind that little crank on its side before you take another shot. 

Superheadz 110 Format Secret Spy Book Camera

Okay, so it's not a digital camera, but I couldn't resist including it because I'm so in love with the entire concept! Priced at $25, it passes off like any other small-ish book on your shelf, except it actually lets you shoot dreamy pictures on 110 film. So adorable I could die. (And it's no surprise, because Japanese company Superheadz has been a leading source of innovation and cuteness for photography enthusiasts.) It even has a cardboard outer case so it really looks the part. To take photos, you just need to twist the spine 90 degress to open the secret compartment holding the lens and click away. I'm ordering one off Amazon as soon as I get enough funds!

Holga Digital

The Hong Kong-based team behind the Holga Digital started their labor of love in 2014, with nothing much to go on but a brilliant idea; that is, to bring a much-adored lomo staple, the Holga, even further into the twenty-first century. Eventually, thanks to the magic of 3D printing, design, prototypes, and most of all, crowdfunding, they've managed to successfully reach their goal, gaining quite the following of Holga veterans and new fans alike in the process. The digital version has four great colors, is a little smaller than its original counterpart, weighing 100 grams, and boasts 8.0-megapixel fuss-free image-taking, although you can opt to use other Holga lenses and flash. It runs on two AA batteries and doesn't have an internal memory, instead needing an SD card. The photos have the signature vignettes and vivid colors that the camera has become known for, and you can choose between a frame ratio of 4:3 or 1:1. All that, and its base price is only $68! 

Rhianna AKA Digital Diana

My first camera after Annie was a Diana Mini Classic, so it has major sentimental value to me. I've always thought it was only a matter of time before someone attempted a digital Diana, and in 2014, Greg Dash of Cyclops Cameras fulfilled that prophecy. Like the Holga Digital, the Digital Diana was brought to life through crowdfunding, and it was subsequently christened "Rhianna" by the people who pledged for it. It borrows the Diana Mini's body and gives it the modern update it so needs through a 1.8-inch LCD rear screen, built-in filters (so many!), manual options including ISO, exposure, and white balance, HD video, and 12.0 megapixels' worth of resolution. Its images have the classic lo-fi look its predecessor produced, but users also have the option to make them sharper, and so much more. But Rhianna is quite the heartbreaker: She was limited to 1,000 units in production, going for around $110, and is now completely sold out, it seems. 

Carbon One Mini

Polaroid's Land Camera 1000 is one of their most recognizable releases to date. Carbon, a Hong Kong-based design collective, definitely took note of this, which should explain why their easy-to-use novelty digital point-and-shoot, the One Mini, takes so much after it. Look at that viewfinder! This small 5.0-megapixel wonder ($125, currently on sale for $49) lets you take pretty vintage-style photos, and there's even an optional white border to make them look like actual Polaroids. It uses 2 AA batteries and has built-in memory that can be expanded up to 32 GB. Aside from the original white, Carbon also came out with limited edition black and pink One Minis that, unfortunately, have all been snapped up. I once saw it in person at a specialty camera shop in Singapore, and it was glorious. I've needed closure ever since—I'm just hoping it arrives soon.  

point and shoot (and forget)

I've said this before and I'll say it again: My least favorite thing about living in the future (I swear my mind is still in 2008 sometimes) is the lack of one-hour photo processing services. So much for a culture primarily built on instant gratification. Most shops, if they even have this service anymore, take anywhere from 2-3 days to weeks to process film. 

Because of this unfortunate generational loss and technological devolution, I've had some trouble sticking to my analog photography hobby. That, and it's pretty expensive, and even 35mm film has become quite scarce. (I miss you, seventy-five-peso Photoline rolls!) Spools I've used up stay on my shelf for years, which means that by the time I get to see the images they hold, I've lost specific recollections of when or where they're from, which moments they're of. 

Of course, me being me, I delight in this anyway, because I love figuring out what's changed in me and my life over the years and being emo about it. It's like a personal excavation, seeing photos I took when I was someone else. Discovery after discovery after discovery. Places I can no longer visit, places I don't recognize at all. Sometimes the film has been stored for so long the pictures have faded and I never get to see them. Other times I would worry that maybe the subjects and the events in the shots wouldn't matter to me anymore or would make me feel nothing. 

But mostly, I'm just so in awe and ecstatic to finally have a look at what I've wondered about for so long. I guess first times tend to have that effect.  

For the longest time I've thought that my Diana Mini was broken. I took it out the other day and found that, well, it wasn't. It was perfectly fine. I was so relieved I went out and bought fresh film the next day. When I was bringing the camera out, I also found four film rolls that, I suppose in the back of my mind, I figured I'd never get around to getting processed anymore. But, again, inspired by my discovery, I decided to go out of my way and finally relieve them of their (and my) misery. 

The only place still widely known to process film within the day (two hours) in Metro Manila is Fujifilm in Megamall, which, if locations could be friends, is more like an acquaintance to me than anything. Despite having two MRT stops near it, it still manages to be quite the chore to get to. Or maybe that's just me and it's because I grew up around Shang instead, what with my mom managing a showroom there back in the day. 

Anyway. I went there and did it. And I'm making it a point from now on to really make time and exert effort in getting my pictures processed as soon as possible, as well as to bring my cameras with me everywhere more often, again.

Some info about the pics on this post: The first roll was a Kodak UltraMax 400, something I could never afford on my own, given to me by my late friend Reggie on the last day of school before my sixteenth birthday. The photos turned out to be from another friend's birthday at a Shakey's five years ago—something, as predicted, that mattered much less to me now. I felt nice warm feelings anyway. The second roll seems to have been from a trip to Bulacan—NLEX skies and churches and gorgeous mid-century provincial homes—while the third includes pictures taken in UP in my freshman year, before it all went to shit. (Just kidding.) 

Here they are now, stuck in limbo no longer.