Details

A camera collection and a library. An archive and a biography.

There's an allure to the promise of a photograph, a moment in time, frozen in place, and most importantly, suspended in perfect, objective reality. Unlike a painting or a drawing, the pitch of the photograph is not an interpretation, but a replication. Not a fiction, but the truth. Of course, the reality of it is much more complicated.

It took centuries for photographs to get to a level of "photo-realism", the fickleness of color chemistry, the limitation of early digital era sensors, meant that these copies looked distinctively different than what we see with our eyes. Additionally, the camera does not process and "capture" an image the same way human eyes perceive the world, and so there's always a difference there. And then there is what is just out of sight—a photograph will always have a frame, a boundary that does not exist in reality.

Even with these caveats, cameras have become so sophisticated that the one's we carry in our pockets are capable of capturing moments in time with a level of realism and detail that seemingly does mimic our perception of reality. Our phones deliver amazing accuracy and precision with just a tap of a button.

And just as soon as we got there, we wanted something else.

People reached for film cameras that provided warm tints and grain, adding texture to the image. These were flourishes to make the photo feel more real than it is, or alternatively to make it a bit more surreal. Some people started playing around with Polaroids and Instax photos, their inherit imperfections and spontaneous nature becoming intriguing quirks of the process. Some even ventured into the world of toy cameras and early 2000s digi-cams, intentionally getting lower quality cameras, the artifacts and incongruous elements becoming the points of emphasis. Each of these attempts were ways to reclaim process where the convenience of modern photos abstracted away the relationship people had with the act of capturing. Each of these attempts were ways to reclaim multiple realities in a landscape where photos were so real that it gave no room for interpretation.

Although I've had my DSLR for a while, it wasn't until two years ago that I started adding more cameras to the collection. I started to think about how each camera had a story, each object had a biography. They were all distinct, in its qualities, its features. Some cameras took certain types of film, other cameras had different sets of lenses. Even cameras with identical features might look different, might handle differently...a lightweight camera might prompt me to carry it for everyday snapshots, a hefty camera might stay in my backpack until I've lined up the ideal shot.

When I first thought about photography, it was the idea of reality captured, of perfection framed. But then it soon became clear that it was everything else that was interesting, every imperfection became proof of the process. The light leaks on my film photos demonstrated where I had prematurely opened up my film camera. The haunting magenta tones of one of my digital cameras, a reminder of a damaged sensor after a camera fall. An overexposed Polaroid where the subject is barely visible, a lesson on exposure from when I was just learning about lighting.

The beauty of a photo is that it is as-is. It captures what is in front of the lens. Of course, you can stage it beforehand. You can edit it afterwards. You can process it to be darker, or scan it to be lighter. You can print it so it looks flat, and then light it so it glows. But no matter what, there is a moment in there when the scene was captured as-is. Nothing more, nothing less.

And that's the magic. Photography is both just what it is, and also everything beyond it.

Through endless editing and processing and scanning and printing and enlarging, reality can change so many times that it muddles what is even real. Can any photo look like how we see it with our own eyes, do our own eyes even see the same thing as someone else? Do our eyes see what they saw yesterday, or even moments ago? Is the photo what the mirror reflects, or the sensor captured? Is it what the camera processed, or what the compressed file spits out? Is it what's seen on a computer screen, or what is printed? Chemicals or electronic sensors, processing on the computer or on a sheet of paper, is any moment more real? Every step of the process is a whole world to explore—another fold in the multitudes of reality.

Most of the cameras I've acquired were secondhand. First, I found a few cameras that my dad used to use. Then, I started collecting cameras that I found at thrift stores. I learned that my grandpa in Taiwan used to run a camera shop. I went to the village where it was, but found nothing there.

Most cameras I acquired came with a tag that said: as-is. They often had some issue or two, broken light meter, flaking leather, stuck shutters. Some needed fixing, others were just completely broken. But I still collected all of them. Just as every imperfection in a photo was documentation of the process, every flaw in an old camera was proof of a journey.

And in the spirit of Electronic Whalefall, there is a beauty in giving these cameras another life. If they have already journeyed with their previous owners, perhaps it's time for them to continue a new chapter here. Even a totally broken camera can now live as an archive piece, to be admired and witnessed.

This is where the library comes in as well. It's not just the life that I may give the cameras by using them. It's the life that the cameras may have beyond me as well when other people can take these cameras and use them to take photos and make memories. By creating a camera library, where we all loan the cameras out to each other and capture moments, we are collectively archiving our lives and the cameras. Each camera can have a biography, comprised of photos from all the people that have interacted with the camera.

To take as-is to capture as-is, is to create an infinite mirror of possibilities. To take the premise of perfection and answer with a kaleidoscope of imperfection. To take the premise of objective reality and respond with a multitude of stories and myths. as-is is both just what is in front of us—a camera library, and everything beyond that—a new way of seeing reality.