Hello Holga, My Old Friend

It’s been a while since I used one of my Holgas. With three photo projects at various stages of completion, my cameras of choice have been predominantly large format 4x5 and medium format. Much of this project work has involved still lifes, which are not usually part of my toy camera repertoire. Still, the Holgas have “eyed” me from their shelf as I reached for the Toyo or the Rollei or even the Leica or Nikon. They certainly were reluctant to make room for the Pentax Auto 100 that’s found a place in the photo cabinet.

Holgas are always in my mind, however. I strive to match cameras with the subject or scene and for the past several months, a Holga wasn’t the right camera for capturing the images I envisioned (when I envisioned them; most of my work is not pre-planned, but rather in the moment).

But a couple of weeks ago, as I loading the small trunk that sits on the back of my recumbent tricycle, I grabbed the Holga named Leaky and added it along with the Fed 2 — both “high-impact” cameras that are suited for the sometimes rough ride on the local trails.

I found this scene and shot an entire roll of this and a couple other graffitied columns. After developing and scanning, this one stood out. There it is, in all its glory, the Holga Look. Hello vignette. Hello distortion. Nice to see you again, weird aberration in the lower-right region, a sort of double exposurey effect. This is exactly the right scene to make the most of a Holga’s quirks. It’s nice to be reminded how a camera renders light in its own way. To borrow a phrase from John Denver, “Hey, it’s good to be back home again.”

“Because You Can’t Your Initials On A Concrete Column” Silver gelatin photograph from medium format Holga camera.

Why I 'Toy' Around With My Photography

“My Bird Girl”

This is not the image in the Art Through the Lens show. It’s an “oldie but a goodie” from my catalog, taken with a Holga on cross-processed

I have a photograph included in the upcoming Art Through the Lens 2019 group exhibition at the Yeiser Art Center in Paducah, Kentucky. I was asked to provide an artist’s statement. This required me to consider — once again — why a good portion of my photographic endeavors involve shooting with plastic toy cameras and then developing and printing my negatives myself. As my relationship with these low-fi rascals continues to mature, so too does my ability to express (sometimes defend) my attraction to them.

Without further ado, here is my latest take on why I toy around with this sub-sub-sub-genre of photography (they asked for no more than 150 words, and that’s exactly what I provided, wordsmith that I am):

I shoot a range of film (and digital) formats from 4x5 to 35mm, yet images captured with plastic toy cameras – 120 format Holgas and Dianas in particular – comprise a significant portion of my portfolio. I am drawn to this low-fidelity, low-tech approach because of its reductionist nature – reduced sharpness, reduced aperture and shutter control, reduced predictability, to name a few. These constraints create boundaries within which I find a rich and rewarding opportunity to render the world. Like poets who work within a rigidly defined form, like haiku, shooting with toy cameras requires discipline while offering a liberating creative freedom. By doing less, these cameras and films challenge me to do more, from taking the image, to developing the film, archivally printing the negative on fiber-based paper in my darkroom, and even to matting and framing. The limits of toy cameras make me a better – and freer – artist and artisan.