Several years ago, I read an article announcing the end of
an era. To my great sadness, I learned
that there is no longer anyone in the world (yes, the entire world!) who will
process Kodachrome film. A favorite of
photographers for decades, it was known worldwide as THE film for capturing colors
in the warm spectrum. But over the last
few years, Kodak’s production of the iconic film gradually fell victim to the
digital age of photography. Eventually,
they stopped making it altogether. Until
I read the news of its demise, however, I knew I could still have my last few rolls
processed. I clung to that
possibility. Now that option, too, is
gone. And so an era has passed.
For years, I resisted converting to digital photography,
partly because I did not want to give up on my beloved Kodachrome. In my mind, nothing else, including my then-limited
experience with digital images, could replace its warmth. For someone living in the Southwest, only
Kodachrome, with its intense color saturation and sun-kissed spectrum, could
capture the brilliant sunlit mysteries of our desert. In my day, I must have
shot thousands of rolls. And in mute
testament to that obsession, my closets are filled with boxes and boxes of
slides, home to my Kodachrome Days of the past – the Grand Canyon, Sedona, Hawaii,
France, Mexico, ballooning, family milestones and holidays - all the moments
that have added flavor and color to my life. Now,
they – and perhaps the new Kodachrome Days I have now set out to capture in
my heart via this blog - are all I have left of my Kodachrome.
Today, my old Minolta (another casualty of the digital age)
has been replaced with a snazzy new, all-singing, all-dancing Nikon and a smart phone for spur-of-the-moment shots. Rolls of film in their tidy little canisters
have been replaced by flat little electronic cards that hold hundreds of
photos. No longer do I make regular
trips to the photo shop only to return days later to eagerly retrieve and view
the results of my last photography efforts.
Now I have instant gratification via USB cable, a miniature camera
screen and my trusty computer.
Don’t get me wrong. I
have learned to love the convenience of photography’s new age. My pocketbook loves it even more. But still, in my heart of hearts, I miss my
Kodachrome. We were friends for a lot of
years. Someday, I suppose, I will find
the courage to toss those last few rolls that still live in the bottom of my
old camera bag … but not until it stops feeling like an ultimate betrayal of an
old friend. For today I will hold on to
those old rolls of film. They represent
so much to me. Instead, I will look for
ways to transform their lost potential into a way of living as I search for
Kodachrome Days. One thing is for
sure. The film may be gone, but its
impact will linger with me for the rest of my days as I choose to live each day in full color.
