I developed the latest batch of negatives which mainly consisted of shots depicting myself in various pretentious poses. I am aware of the fact that the old phrase “the camera never lies” is in itself probably the biggest lie ever spoken about photography. “Few things lie as convincingly as a camera” would be a better phrase. And yet… it somehow seems more likely that if you look at 36 different photos depicting what is obviously an idiot, then all 36 exposures cannot be complete lies. If it looks like a dork, then I’m afraid it’s likely to be a dork. Sigh.
I am now developing an advanced photographic concept called BOGUS (Beautiful Offline Gallery of Unconfirmed Shots). I shall attempt to explain:
The idea is to never develop anything. Once you have clicked the shutter you will, with a little experience, know exactly what that frame will look like. You don’t need a digital camera to see it right away, you just need to picture it. (This doesn’t take into account little surprises, like the crookedness of my camera which always seem to yields a tilted horizon in one direction or other).
So if, like me, you are a person who is currently only capable of producing shit, then you will click the shutter and think “ah yes… shit. Why did I waste film on that?” And then something bizarre happens. As the roll(s) of film stand on your shelf, all nicely lined up, they start to evolve in your mind. The longer it takes before you develop the rolls, the further they metamorphose away from crappy photos into something that might actually be great. This effect is only imaginary. The undeveloped negatives stay exactly like they were once you had clicked the shutter. And later, once you develop them, you will have a sense of huge disappointment.
It is similar to the paradox of Schrödinger’s cat in which a cat locked in an airtight box containing a fiendish mechanism with a 50/50 chance of releasing poisenous gas cannot be said to be either dead or alive until the box is opened. In a way it is both as long as both possibilities are present. But whereas the miaouing coming from the box and the mere fact that there is too little air inside would help to give an indication as to the health of an imprisoned feline, your rolls of film stay perfectly quiet. They retain their secrets. They mystery of their content is limited only by the your imagination.
So the trick is never to develop anything, thereby avoiding the unevitable sense of disappointment. Ignorance is after all bliss.
