As of today, the launch of my SlowPho website is a first milestone on the new road that I started walking about a year ago. SlowPho gives me a platform to share photos and letters with all of you, as I explore the wonderful world of analogue photography on my journey through uncharted territory.

The more I delved into analogue photography over the past year, the more I came to realise that it’s an infinite universe of specific lenses, brands, models, features, techniques, applications, and angles. An experience similar to lying down in the summer-evening grass and pulling out your astronomy app to check out some constellations… only to realise three dazzling hours full of newly-discovered celestial bodies later how unimaginably vast this new universe is to you.

This is also the reason why I will never pretend to be a connoisseur: I leave that honour to people who have actually studied photography or carry quite a bit more expertise under their belt. And still, analogue photography is no total stranger to me, either. I might actually feel so attracted to it because deep down, it evokes a strangely familiar feeling.

An offline world with technical capabilities

For as long as I can remember, photos have had a prominent place in my family. My great-aunt was (and still is) the family photographer who documents every family occasion. My mother always immortalised our holidays. Around that time, and a still child, my sister and I were each handed out a simple point-and-shoot camera with two rolls of film, to be used as we saw fit during our family trip. As a result, enlarged portraits, colourful photo corners, and dozens of photo albums were standard at any given family member’s home.

It was the nineties, and that too is an aspect of the familiar feeling that analogue photography gives me. It takes me back to an era when I felt more ‘at home’ mentally. To an offline world offering a broad range of technical capabilities, but where excessive mass consumption was not yet a way of life. To the era when modern humans supported their analogue lives with an array of digital tools, but still before the online parallel reality would catch up with, and eventually dominate, our daily existence.

Mindfulness with a built-in light meter

So, in part, analogue photography takes me back to a better-balanced era, where all in all people stood central and technology was merely an instrument. That’s why I love the manual buttons, levers, and focusing mechanism of an analogue camera, because they unnoticeably force you to stay in the moment. I love the limited number of shots that a roll of film provides, thus urging you to concentrate and be aware. I love the lack of instant satisfaction that comes with the film development process, which inevitably forces you to slow down and let go.

To me, analogue photography is a kind of mindfulness, made accessible to all by a built-in light meter and the occasional automatic function. Fully absorb every moment here and now, and the second reward will follow later, when the images have been developed.

Observation. Creativity. Technical learning. Aesthetics.

Expression. Astonishment. Patience.

Balance. Peace.