Always another day.

Photographed on a Pinhole Camera

One of the things about photography that I have been commenting on in recent posts is the fact that there is always another day. We can always return and try again.

But there is an extension to that. More to the discussion than just there is always another day.

There is always another camera.

There is always another film.

There is always another view.

There is always another time of day.

There is always another chemistry and time combination to try for development.

What all this is doing is giving us permission to experiment in an environment where we don't need to view photography as getting the picture right the first time in the camera.

In fact, I don't think that is a desirable endpoint at all for any photographer.

To pick up on an earlier post, it gives us permission to fail and I think that is liberating.

It seems obvious to me that commercial photographers haven't got time to be messing about and, mostly, they have been given a short time to get the "photo" for the client.

Harry Borden, a portrait photographer who has shot the rich and famous, says that he's typically given an hour for the shoot, of which the subject often messes about, burning valuable time.

So for him, getting it right first time in camera might be important.

OK, so maybe not right first time in camera because an hour is a decent chunk of time, but if the subject burns 30 minutes by being a little uncooperative, the pressure must really be on to nail the brief.

Harry Borden also speaks about the moment that he knows he's got the frame, nailed the brief, and then he starts trying other things. He experiments.

But the constraints of a commercial photographer are miles away from the freedom with which the hobbyist operates.

As a hobbyist there is no client waiting for the photo, no stressed art director screaming for the cover picture for a Sunday supplement.

You have all the time in the world.

You can come back another day, you can try another camera, you can pick a different film, you can choose the golden hour in the morning instead of midday, you can choose Rodinal over HC-110.

There isn't a scenario that I can think of where that isn't true.

Well, perhaps there is.

If you go on an expensive holiday, say to Peru, and you are able to shoot at Machu Picchu, you probably aren't going to go back a year later simply because you weren't completely happy with the photographs.

Preparation becomes more important when the opportunity is difficult or expensive to repeat.

But then again, that's not really unique to the hobbyist photographer. Harry Borden talks about the preparation he does for his client-led shoots. He knows what he is there to do before the subject walks through the door.

Research, in its most basic form, can mean looking at Instagram and Pinterest which might show you the typical photographs taken of where you are going. It might also provide travel information to tell you about the best time of day. Visiting a library might show you a book that provides a completely different perspective for that destination.  You can think about what you want to photograph before you get there.

When I went to Chichen Itza in Mexico, I had an hour to wander around and take photographs.

I found that plenty of time.

The pictures weren't all portfolio standard and they weren't the best work that I've ever done, but enough of the two rolls I shot there were good enough that I didn't feel the need to return to Mexico.

And perhaps that's another important part of this.

The point isn't that we should keep going back until we get the perfect photograph.

The point is that we can.

Perhaps this is where I question the whole idea of needing a camera that gets it right first time.

Obviously, such a camera is desirable. Who wouldn't want a camera that nails the exposure, gets the focus exactly where it needs to be and produces a technically perfect file every time?

But I'm not sure I want the camera making all of those decisions for me.

Maybe that is why I enjoy film photography, when all is said and done.

Perhaps the imperfections are part of the point.

If I use a camera that doesn't always get things right, I have to make more decisions myself. I have to think about the light. I have to think about the exposure. I have to decide where to stand. I have to decide when to press the shutter.

And sometimes I'll get it wrong.

That's OK.

There is always another day.

Another camera.

Another film.

Another view.

Another time of day.

Another developer.

The photograph doesn't have to be right first time, but it will be mine.