How to Reignite Your Creative Spark
A few months ago, I booked a trip to Guatemala for my Christmas break. Traveling the world, photographing diverse cultures, and sharing how I see the world is what I am passionate about. But this time, there was a problem.
I had lost the desire to photograph, and it felt like the end of the world. I am not exaggerating. Being a photographer is part of my identity, so losing that desire meant losing a part of myself. I couldn’t figure out why it was happening. I didn’t like any of the creative work I was producing, it felt fake, it felt unreal, it felt digital. So I did what I always do when I get stuck - I went for a walk on Hollywood Road.
On that walk, I recalled the time when I first fell in love with photography, though my mom had told me many times that I loved it since I was a child, but I don’t really remember that. The first time I remember falling in love with photography was during a university field school, when a bunch of us got to explore eight European countries during our spring semester.
One day, when we were exploring Kalambaka, a village in the northern region of Greece, I noticed an old lady who wore a traditional black dress, she leaned against a giant sandstone rock pillar, and the way the sunlight fell on her face, it appeared sublime to me. I took out my point and shoot camera and took her portrait. Right at that moment, Aaron Whitfield, one of my fellow classmates, put a telephoto lens on his single lens reflex (SLR) camera and took a photograph of the same lady. I got curious. Throughout that trip, I saw a pattern emerge - every time I found an object, a scene, a person visually enticing and took a photograph of it, Aaron did the same. Then one day, in the Vatican City, while we waited for the Pope to arrive, I saw Aaron change a roll of film in his camera.
“Is it hard to use this camera?” I asked.
“At the beginning, yes,” Aaron smiled, “but the more you use it, the easier it gets.”
For the rest of the trip, I accompanied Aaron everywhere. I saw how fast he changed the lenses, inserted film, and modified different dials on his big camera. He told me about the aperture, the shutter speed, the ISO film speed, the light, and many other things but it all went over my head. When the field school ended and we returned to Calgary, Aaron invited me to a presentation he did of his photographs taken on this trip. I was mesmerized by his work. His photographs looked like they were straight out of the National Geographic magazine. And then he showed the photograph. It was of the old lady that both of us had photographed in Kalambaka, Greece.
I want to learn how to do that, my heart said.
Aaron was the photo editor at the university newspaper. He invited me to join the team as a junior photographer, gave me a spare SLR camera, a bunch of film rolls, and sent me on my first assignment. It was one of the best summers ever. I learned how to use manual settings on a SLR camera, how to develop film in the dark room, and how to print photographs using film negatives. I fell in love with the whole process. I couldn’t get enough of it. That summer, I shot every single day, stories for the newspaper, portraits of my friends, and even our shenanigans at different bars around town.
That used to be so much fun, I thought, while I continued walking on Hollywood Road. I should go back to film! My heart smiled.
Long story short, I sold my current digital SLR camera with all the lenses, and bought a used medium format film camera with the same money. I bought a bunch of film rolls, and headed to the airport to start my adventure in Guatemala. You are probably thinking, what a dumb decision. Why would you give up your high-end, full-frame, high resolution digital camera for an old school film camera that could only take 10 images per film roll? And not just that, once the films are shot, they are sent to a professional lab to get developed and scanned, which costs money. You are correct, it was senseless, illogical, and totally imprudent. But then it changed everything for me.
As I walked the streets of Antigua, I sensed a feeling of awe. I felt that I didn’t have to capture everything like how I used to with my professional digital SLR camera. Now I was exploring the town, enjoying every moment that unfolded in front of me, and remembering what had originally made me fall in love with traveling and photography.
Then all of a sudden I saw a beautiful girl in a yellow dress coming down the stairs of an old church. If I had my digital camera on me, I would have already taken five shots of her, but I paused and witnessed why that scene spoke to me. As she stood at the curb, a yellow car pulled over in front of her, and the driver asked her for directions. What are the chances, I thought. I would have taken the shot, but the area on the other side of the road was empty. This would have been perfect if there was another yellow element here, I thought. And then something miraculous happened. A yellow Italian Vespa arrived and the guy wore a yellow t-shirt! I stood in awe. That was the moment I realized that I don’t create anything, I am just a vessel through which photographs are created. All I have to do is be present and the creative gems will be presented to me.
That week in Antigua, I saw those gems all the time, and I felt so grateful for each one of those gifts. Here are some that I captured with my old film camera using the experimental film Phoenix 200 produced by Harman Photo.
I can’t wait to continue this creative journey, to be open to all that is pre-destined for me to capture and then share it with the world. I believe that creativity is a gift from the Divine and our use of it is a gift back to the Divine.
