Holgafied, thank you Dave

My fleet of cameras has grown by one. It is the cheapest of them all yet it carries a sentimental value more priceless then my pricey DSLR and I have yet to create a single exposure with it. Perhaps out of embarrassment, I probably wouldn't even bother adding it to my list of insured goods. The chase to technical superiority is over; at least for now. Enter the ridiculously inexpensive $20 Holga 120N.

On a Saturday night in November Shanti and I joined an intellectually like-minded group of friends for a night of art, food, and film. Our gallery of choice was the once-a-year & non-traditional Gala Corina. This gallery annually features many local artists who are for the first time having their work shown publicly.

Of the handful of artists I spoke with, one particular photographer's work grabbed my attention. Prior to meeting Dave Pritchard, my typical approach to a photography booth was: 1) What kind of equipment did the photographer use?, 2) What settings did he use to achieve those results?, and 3) What might I have done differently? The title of "artist" that is often given to most photographers is now clearly defined. Artistic photography now has meaning to me because of one thing - the simplicity of a medium in a complex environment. The colors in his photos were rich, but the images not totally crisp. The lighting was right, but at the same time awkward. What was the hook? Lucky for me Dave was strolling around humbly greeting gallery guests. I knew I had found the photographer behind this booth because of the camera hanging around his neck. At first I think I was a little thrown off because upon closer inspection the camera looked a little goofy and not very sophisticated at all. A brief and poignant introduction revealed a few things about Dave: he loved photography, he loved his simple plastic camera, and he was willing to talk about it to anyone curious enough to ask. My curiosity piqued and I fired away some photo questions. Most of my facial expressions must have been mostly confusion. To simplify the discussion, Dave gave us a brief demonstration on how to use a Holga. He quickly rattled off the few features of the camera, charged up the installed flash, posed Shanti, and snapped an exposure. All technical concerns were instantly whisked away.

Despite the silliness behind this toy camera, the images Dave produces are hardly laughable. Although many toy camera shooters aim for humor, most of what Dave produces can easily be described as art. Overall, his enthusiasm and genuine nature made it easy for me to desire my own Holga.

Days after the event I ordered my own Holga. It took a few days for me to finally receive it, but in the days in between I pass the time reading about the varying opinion on toy camera usage in the professional market. I found so many mixed reviews that frankly I was confused. Should I really be serious about this camera? What if I just ride the flow of happy Holga owners as I eat the cost of film and development? A day or two of soul searching revealed the answer. I finally knew what it was that tickled me about this camera and the imperfect photos it produced.

Dave's photos were reminiscent of the first photos my mother ever showed me when I was growing up. I recall a picture of my grandmother and I standing next to my dad's bright red Ford Pinto on a beach here in Florida sometime when I was a toddler. That picture has lost some quality during its years in a cardboard box, but every time I see it the colors are just as vivid as the days the picture was taken. When I look at Holga pictures and those taken by other toy camera enthusiasts, that wonderful nostalgia kicks in and memories of the family having barbecues at summertime instantly reappear through yellowed paper prints.

I'm hooked. I'm ready to recreate those memories. Sure, I'll still carry my DSLR around with me and create some modern work for my own albums, but the Holga will reign the king of artistic therapy and the chosen device of reliving childhood memories.



Thank you Dave. I look forward to future adventures in plastic photography.

Enjoy the pics. They are a tribute to my newfound toy.

- Eugene