POLAROID DAYS

Writer: Gracie Leavitt

Yesterday, with my precious $4.99, I defied common sense. Like our sage Simon Morgan, I find that frequenting thrift stores can have a calming effect, a restorative one-heck, in my book, a trip to the Salvation Army is as good as liturgy. Used to be I’d leave the local shop with bags full of fifties frocks and silky camisoles. Over time, though, my intemperance meant I never wore these fine things, and so I turned to the knickknacks, curios, and gadgets. Anyway, it’s in this aisle that the most offbeat regulars linger, and that’s a treat in itself.

On this occasion the gem was a Polaroid Sun 600 LMS, an instant camera several years older than I and purchased for mere dollars. The buy was economical enough, so where was my defiance? This past February, Polaroid announced that, after 60 years on the market, their instant film products would be discontinued. Really, then, I was acquiring a clock along with my camera-time was running out! I take it back. Though sentimentality did figure in here (the chunky Sun 600 had stolen my heart), there was no breach of common sense. My logic: it was not despite the discontinuance of the film that I took my camera home that day, but because of it. If I’d not been pining over Polaroid ever since I heard the news, most likely I’d have reminisced for a moment and then passed the gadget by. Now, instead, I was in a hurry to get my hands on the thing, stock up on film, and revel in depleting it in unison with all other lovers of the stuff.

The Ultimate Photographers Camera

Yes, ever since the news broke that manufacture of the film will cease by the end of the year, artists vying for painterly dimension have been hoarding the goods, preserving packs and packs deep within their refrigerators. For this very reason, it’s tough to determine exactly when the supply will dry up. We all are squirrels storing nuts for winter, but likely spring will never come. Still, the cache is meant to be plundered. Otherwise, we’ll have starved squirrels and sadly wasted inspiration.

Our only hope? That some company will license the technology and keep us rich in film and ephemera. Action groups like Save Polaroid have endeavored to convince such corporations as Fuji and Ilford to take up the reins, and even high-art venues are lending their support. Found Gallery of Los Angeles will be hosting an exhibit this September honoring the departing instant medium.

It would be easy to blame ceaseless technological advancement for this loss, and really that’s my impulse. I prefer anachronism-of course, that’s why a thrift store is so comforting. But no one could accuse Polaroid of planned obsolescence. Their instant film was a revolution, and a lasting one, because it allowed even the amateur photographer significant independence from the industry.

However, I will eternally be vexed that Polaroid has discontinued its film for fear of the digital market. Purportedly, the company feels its claims to immediacy have been challenged by the widespread availability and economic feasibility of digital cameras, with which photo-making is far more instant. Well, that’s just not true. Digital film is not instant film-its very nature encourages reflection, tinkering, and riddance. Of course, the opportunity to tinker can yield comely scenes, but digital photography hardly fetishizes the passing moment. More so, it is ubiquitous.

The optimistic read of the situation is this: each new photo taken is a memento mori, a reminder that this luxury will not last for long. In fact, once I had the new (old) camera all to myself, I realized a single exposure had been left inside and hit the shutter release. What resulted was a sublime blunder, a blur of colors, a set of petals sculpted by underexposed portions. It was a goof made possible only by the oh-so primitive, oh-so needless technology, and I oh-so relish it.

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by Kygp