Fotofail: Kein Ende wider Erwarten

Wie fängt man eine Fotofailgeschichte an?

Vielleicht am Anfang und damit, dass ich eine neue gebrauchte analoge Kamera gekauft hatte und diese vor dem Urlaub natürlich noch auf Herz und Niere testen wollte. Es waren noch knapp drei Wochen zum Urlaub. Mag zwar viel klingen, aber 36 Bilder zu schießen, die irgendwie auch ästhetisch ansprechend waren und nach mir aussehen und nicht nach „einfach mal Film verschießen, um den Film vollzukriegen“ aussehen, dauert schon etwas. Zumindest bei mir. Dann muss man noch die Entwicklungszeiten mit Versandzeit zum Labor mitrechnen. Da ist auf einmal gar nicht mehr sooo viel Zeit.

Die ersten Bilder machte ich von einer Freundin, die zu Besuch war. Auch der Dumplingabend wurde fotografisch festgehalten. Für weitere Fotos beschloss ich, in den Mainzer botanischen Garten zu gehen. A) weil ich dort noch nie war und B) weil botanische Gärten mit ihren floralen Motiven einfach schön sind. An dem Tag war bestes Spätsommer-/Frühherbstwetter, die Sonne schien breit und es hat so viel Spaß gemacht an dem Tag zu fotografieren.

Der Bildzähler näherte sich immer mehr der 36. Ich war stolz auf mich so viel fotografiert zu haben und ich mochte die Motive: Blumen in pink, weiß, rot, violett, interessante Pflanzen und ein Schmetterling. Der Tag neigte sich dem Ende, die Sonne bewegte sich gen Horizont.

Ich hatte die 38 erreicht. Das war für mich nicht ungewöhnlich, oft hatte ich bei manuellen Kameras über die 36 hinaus geschossen. Aber war ich da nicht gerade schon? Ich fotografierte weiter. Und konnte nochmal am Spannhebel ziehen und ein weiteres Foto machen. Und nochmal das gleiche Spiel: weiter ziehen, auslösen. Das konnte doch nicht sein?! Wieso bin ich seit 3 Bildern beim Zählerstand 38?

Langsam dämmerte es mir. Aber ich wollte es nicht wahrhaben. Stattdessen wünschte ich mir, dass ich nicht mehr weiterziehen konnte. Dass es ein Ende gibt und die Kamera mir sagen würde: Stop! Die Filmrolle ist alle, du hast den ganzen Film belichtet!

Das Gegenteil war der Fall: Ich konnte einfach weiter- und weiterziehen. Und musste der Wahrheit ins Gesicht sehen: Ich hatte kein einziges Bild gemacht. Nichts hatte ich fotografiert, all die Motive aus dem botanischen Garten und auch die Bilder meiner Freundinnen – nur eine Erinnerung in meinem Kopf. Nie werde ich davon ein Abbild bekommen. Denn der Film war komplett unbelichtet, kein Lichtstrahl hat es auf den Film geschafft.

Was war passiert?

Die Antwort ist so einfach und so ärgerlich: Ich hatte den Film nicht richtig eingelegt und eingespannt. Entsprechend wurde der Film die ganze Zeit nicht weitergezogen.

Ich musste das verifizieren und machte die Filmklappe auf. Und da lag der Film, ein bisschen lose, wie an dem Tag, an dem ich ihn vermeintlich eingespannt hatte.

Die Wut und der Frust ist mittlerweile verflogen, das Bedauern um die verlorenen Bilder ist noch ein wenig da, wie darüber schreibe.

Das Erste was ich zuhause tat, war ein YouTube Video, in dem erklärt wird wie man einen Film einlegt. Er zeigte Kontrollschritte, die ich seither alle brav befolge.

Und wenn sie es nicht nochmal vermasselt hat, dann fotografiert sie heute noch mit einem richtig eingelegten Film.

Epilog

Eine Woche später ging ich nochmal in den botanischen Garten. So kam es also zu den zwei Malen botanischer Garten innerhalb einer Woche (erzählt im gleichen Post wo auch der Dumplingabend erwähnt wird) und die hier gezeigten Fotos sind entsprechend vom zweiten Besuch. Was den ursprünglichen Test anging: Es hat zeitlich alles geklappt und die Kamera durfte mit auf die Reise.


Camera + lens: Minolta 9000 AF + Minolta AF 100mm Macro f/2.8
Film: Kodak Gold 200
Development + scan: ON FILM LAB

on the road at home

It's not even an open secret, it's actually very obvious. It's just that sometimes it is overlooked precisely because it is so obvious: Beauty is nearby.

I want to explore, travel and discover my near surrounding; to consciously see and appreciate what is so close - just as I do when traveling to other places, cities, regions, countries.

This is the result of various thoughts and a lot of time to analyze them step-by-step.

A list, time passes by, one move

I moved. And looking back, one is always smarter. There's one thing I regret a little: in my last place of residence, Dresden, I proposed myself an undefined later for whatever I wanted to do in Dresden. Later was said again and again; until later became now and now is time to pack moving boxes. No more time for short or long walks and no more time for half-day trips to the hiking region nearby. later became too late. And many things that wanted to be seen and checked out remained unseen and unchecked.

I did do things in Dresden, enjoyed them and experienced life there; I did matter of the heart, such as the biking tour through district libraries - it's not like that I missed everything. I already had a similar thought when I moved to Dresden. I had learnt my lessons from the pre-Dresden city and had done better in Dresden. In the end, there were still a few open things. I know there's always something to do and to discover and there's never enough time anyway. However, what I attribute to myself is to underestimate how fast this later would come and to having the optimism that things would work out by themselves. It didn't.

For the new place of living, Hochheim am Main, a small town between Mainz and Frankfurt am Main, I want to motivate myself more to not put things off and actually get on them.

Arriving

Very closely related to moving and yet different: arriving here. I moved from one region to a completely different region that is new to me. Everything new. And I want to have that feeling of having arrived . I don't know what this feeling is made of in detail. Surely, there's a bit of the first reason in here. By exploring the area bit by bit, I hope to discover the facets of the feeling of having arrived.

on the road at home, traveling at home

There's one thought that has come up again and again in recent years, waved briefly and then disappeared again. On my trip to Japan, this one thought came very early on (which surprised me):

Why am I looking for beauty so far away? Why do I photograph so much here, away from home, and get so excited but do not feel this way at home?

It's obvious: in a faraway country, like Japan, or in any other place (city, region, country) - you may only get there once and have a limited amount of time. You want to see, experience, absorb and remember as much as possible. You prepare yourself for the trip and feel great anticipation. In most cases, it is also a long-awaited change, a holiday from everyday (working) life.

What I have on my doorstep at home (more or less on my doorstep) is no less admirable. I just don't notice it as much because it's just my everyday life. I also just don't think of my home as a place to travel, for the same reason. This automatically eliminates everything that is part of traveling.

Thus, change of perspective: Consider the place of living and the surrounding area as a place to travel. Doing it really consciously. Being a tourist.

That's nothing new. But the conscious change of perspective is good and important for me to be able to change my perception.

The art of noticing

On most days, I won't make it far at all because time doesn't allow it and I'll just go for a walk around the block. But that's when "the art of noticing" becomes much more important. Basically, the art of noticing, recently introduced by a video by Teo Crawford, is being mindful and being aware of everyday life. What would I take note of, what would I photograph if I didn't see this every day?

Now to the nitty gritty: How far shall it be? The distance and the time

The scope (time/duration and distance) will and can be very different. It is difficult to me to draw a line. The amount of time and distance correlate: The further away from home I am, the longer I am likely to stay away. This certainly depends on the actual journey time rather than the linear distance. Thus, it can be anything from a 10-minute exploration trip (one round around the block) to a whole weekend away from home.

For me and myself

At first I thought that a camera and my blog would accompany me. But then a strange feeling crept up on me and I realized: I'm doing this for myself. I want to experience things, I want to be here. Not to create something which can be presented in the end.

Whatever makes it into a presentable memory, be it a photo or an anecdote or a mini travelogue - we'll see. With this post, I mainly wanted to share my thoughts on this. Because I have starting a bit of all of this - this idea has coming down for some time already he he.

I know this is nothing new (I'm repeating myself). Lots of people do this (I've discovered some great blogs about this recently!). But I needed to collect and sort it out for myself and this is what came out 😀

Anticipation, oh, anticipation

I'm really looking forward to this! Looking forward to feeling a bit like a tourist with travel tips in my bag, strolling around and finding favourite places; and on other days, finding out what there is to see and observe in my very close surrounding. I'm hoping for lots of (beautiful) unexpected things, surprises that you encounter when one is out and about. I already know that I will learn a lot about what is around here, but also and above all I will learn things about myself.


Picture 1: TU Dresden in Dresden, 2022 | Camera: Olympus XA2. Film: Agfaphoto APX 100. Development: self-developped. Scan: Charlie Engel Lab 2.0

Picture 2: Vines in Hochheim am Main, 2023 | Camera + lens: Minolta 9000 AF + Minolta AF 50 mm f/1.4. Film: Agfaphoto APX 100. Development + scan: ON FILM LAB

Coriander

Rau mùi (Pronunciation via Google Translate: click here), that's what I call this herb in Vietnamese, in German it's Koriander (and coriander in english). Rau means vegetable, mùi means odour; taken together it is something like vegetable with odour. When a plant is called like that, one expect it to have a particularly strong odour. One might think, this plant has to earn the name. But I think that there are other vegetables and herbs that have a much more intense odour. But languages have their own way of doing things, so I accept it.

Whatever. I did it like my mum and sowed coriander myself this year. Whether I can proudly tell my mum in a few weeks' time that my coriander has grown, remains to be seen. Keep your fingers crossed that I have a green thumb!


Parents' garden, 2022.

Camera + lens: Minolta 9000 AF + Minolta AF 100mm Macro f/2.8
Film: KODAK 100T-MAX
Development + scan: Charlie Engel Lab 2.0