The Pinhole Uncertainty Principle

I’ve wanted to hike this route in its entirety for over 10 years. Over that time I built a conceptional idea of how I wanted to photographically capture it. I wanted to capture it on film and in a panoramic format. The High Sierra Mountains are big and broad and the panoramic perspective, specifically a 1:2 ratio, I creatively felt would pair nicely. Originally I was going to take a camera called the Horseman SW612. The 612 is the ratio, 6cmx12cm. But when I decided to commit to doing the project this summer and moved it from a fantasy to a reality I started to see the project differently. It stopped being another landscape photography trip and started being a way for me to dive deeper into questions about self, creativity, process and letting go.

As I moved into this letting go mentality it freed me from all past convention but also forced me into creative vulnerability by seeing what it would truly mean to let go. If part of the project is about disconnection then what does creative disconnection look like, especially for someone whose used to controlling every aspect of his landscape imagery, save for the weather. The easiest way to do that is to add uncertainty and that’s why I’m bringing only a pinhole camera. A small company in Slovenia hand makes these beautiful panoramic pinhole cameras, so I was able to retain the ration I wanted. The primary camera control of a pinhole camera is how long to leave the shutter open and that control is only a small metal slider. There is no viewfinder or batteries, no lenses and all the aberrations a camera could have. It’s very nature is in letting go and slowing down and not knowing for certain what is being captured. When I committed to this it opened the door for the whole project to take on this attitude and start asking deeper questions of myself, my art and my approach to the world.

A week after I ran a roll of film through the new pinhole camera I opened my refrigerator for something to drink and one of the lower vegetable drawers caught my eye. It was stuffed with film, which has been with me through several states and several different refrigerators. All of it is expired, some over 17 years expired. Film, much like food, has an expiration date after which the chemical components of it will start to degrade. This degradation is not linear and so expired film can be unpredictable. Professional photography is about control. It was engrained in me at school and reinforced as I moved through my career. If a happy mistake happens, know why and how it happens so it can be replicated. All cameras are tools, which is why I usually don’t like questions around gear unless it’s a creative question. Anyway, it’s an attitude that is extremely hard to move away from and when I saw this expired film I thought here’s another chance to add uncertainty. But I immediately and just as quickly pushed back against myself asking, ‘why would I take expired film to the place I cherish the most, who knows what would happen’. I shut the refrigerator door. But then I kept going back and looking at it and thinking that if this project is truly about letting go, about uncertainty, then here’s a perfect chance to add a bit more of that, scary or not. And so in my gear goes 15 rolls of very expired film.