Film was one of my first loves when it came to creativity. The permanence of not being able to change it after the shot was taken—or even judge it—is something that consistently drew, and continues to draw, me in.

Each moment is isolated, different than the next. Quite literally, even moving two mm over can make a whole difference to a frame, to the story.

 

The way light shifts, lifts, or hides.

 

The way wind and water shape an area.

 

The quiet, curious nature of the human form blending into the surrounding, universal atoms.

 

The unpredictable nature of nature.

 

All uncontrollable to some degree, in the rawness of photography.

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In a world where anyone can be a 5-star photographer—for me, film creates a sense of surrender and trust that you got the image (or didn’t). And there have been many times where I totally didn’t—destroyed the film, forgot the film, or lost the film—all being part of the creative process. Which, sometimes, you might forget has a lot to do with letting go of the outcome and creating for the sake of creation.

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There’s something about not knowing. The surprise of what might come out feels like a gift to yourself, and even to those you’ve photographed. It becomes a practice in delayed gratification, in a world where we can endlessly scroll ourselves to the other side of the world and see things we otherwise wouldn’t with our open eyes.

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It’s fun to play memory recall with your photos, to study your film—to let go of the moment, only to return to it refreshed, new-eyed, and patient.

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I am drawn to almost anything that wants to be shot, or is still enough to be. I don’t look for something in particular per se—or at least not that I’ve observed. Maybe it’s a way to remember, and to better understand the world as it is, rather than how quickly I move through it.

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Overall, I think I try to capture beauty, the movement of the elements, and the stories of the people I love—the world that I love. ​

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xx Eleni