Last week I finally got a black and white camera film developed. One that had been in my camera for some time. A long-ish time. Long enough for me to have forgotten what images I'd captured. I think it's a great surprise to get a slim jiffy of real photographs back and have no idea what they are of or how they have turned out, don't you?
But it's also a bit disappointing when you realise you still haven't got to grips with analogue film and you've wasted quite a bit of time and money.
I don't think the film was loaded right and it definitely jammed towards the end and it's not like the flash has been properly deployed.
But still. There is something quite mysterious about these not-quite-right fisheye photographs.
They're haunting and a bit jagged and blurred.
They make me think of The Blair Witch Project and unsolved murders and disappearances on beaches.
Clearly I like to take dark, lonely, isolated shots of paths that disappear into nothing; ramshackle and unpopulated and somehow timeless.
There is a calmness to these images though; an other-worldly peace that vibrates from them that is lent a voyeuristic edge with the visibility of the lense constraints in all of them (a telltale sign of fisheye photography).
Another magpie experiment with interesting and unusual results.