Embracing The Monolith: My Journey into Large Format Photography

Photo by Wonderhunt on Unsplash

Ah, large format photography! That lofty realm where the phrases “Wait, I just need to adjust the tilt,” and “Did I remember to close the lens cap?” blend seamlessly into an art form that resembles an ancient ritual (some call it the "dance"). My journey into this universe began with a simple question: if medium format is the tastefully-sized bento box of photography, why not opt for a grand buffet of 4x5 large format? After all, what could possibly go wrong with lugging around a camera that weighs more than your average toddler?


From Medium to Mammoth: What Drove Me

My love affair with film photography kicked off with medium format, wielding a lovely 6x6 camera that allows for some darkroom magic, giving me the luxury to recompose without sacrificing image quality. With a cool dozen shots, finishing a roll isn’t the kind of protracted saga that keeps me cataloging indefinite “half-rolled” films. Trust me, a half-finished roll is the film photographer's equivalent of wearing mismatched socks—always there, glaring at you, mocking your lack of decisiveness.


So, bigger must be better, right? My sparkling ambition was further fueled by a desire to slow down and embrace the complexity of large format. With a camera sporting movements that could make an origami artist weep, I anticipated profound creative choices and—here comes the big one—greater control over exposure. This, I thought, felt like a Picasso painting compared to a stick figure. 


Thus, I delved into the world of large format photography, investing about $2,500 to acquire a 4x5 camera, two used lenses, and a brand-spanking-new spot meter (stay tuned for the review—I’m still wrestling with it). 

The Roller Coaster of Reality 

As I wandered deeper into the realms of 4x5, reality took a friendly jab at me. I quickly realized I had signed up for a rigorous masterclass in “Mistakes 101.” Sure, it slowed me down—the rhythm of shooting transformed from the quick click of the shutter to a meticulous five-to-ten-minute setup. In that time, I’ve seen many scenes slip away like summer rain in London. 


And my past life, trained in the decisive moments of Henri Cartier-Bresson, became laughably irrelevant. Instead of capturing gestures and fleeting reflections, I found myself studying composition and subject matter as though it were a game of chess, only the pieces were made out of glass and wood and could decide to flip over at any moment.


Ansel Adams, bless his soul, chose mountains that gracefully stood still for the duration of his slow exposures. Me? I'm anxiously watching the clouds shimmy in an existential ballet, awaiting the moment a magical shot is apparently just about to happen. Oh, but wait! My camera is still adjusting its position. 


The Learning Curve: A Steep and Humbling Ascent

Each foray into large format is like peeling an onion. So many layers, and every tear has a lesson attached. What did I learn? Well, large format is technically demanding. Dozens of choices induce profound anxiety, and each decision—be it tripod placement or focus adjustment—has a monumental impact on the final image. Contrast this with good ol’ medium format and 35mm, where you simply set the exposure index and move on like you’re cruising on a Sunday drive. 


With large format, I must bypass the instant gratification of shooting into a world of carefully orchestrated, deliberate movements. My camera starts to feel less like an extension of my eye and more like a trusted (yet overly complicated) drunk friend who’s teaching me life lessons at every turn. 


For instance, if I changed my camera orientation to capture a different shot, I had to mentally prepare myself for a cataclysm of decisions—a kaleidoscope of considerations that could make or break the shot. Suddenly, humility became my closest companion, and I felt like I was fumbling my way through eye surgery after years of confidently operating at a desk job.

A Long Way to Go: The Road of a Humble Novice

As I sit here contemplating my 20th negative out of 50 on this grand journey, I remind myself that being a novice again has its merits. The recent inquiries I’ve dared to make of those wiser and more experienced in the large format world have been met with varied responses—ranging from thoughtful insights to the occasional eye roll at my “dumb questions.” 


Yet, this journey isn’t solely about perfect images; it’s about learning and the humility that accompanies the mistakes often swept under the rug in the realm of social media perfection. Each misstep provides a nugget of wisdom, revealing my limitations and encouraging deeper respect for the titans of photography like Adams, Strand, Weston, and Avedon. 


In conclusion, while the gulf between their mastery and my own could be likened to the distance between Earth and Mars, the journey through this intricate world of large format is bound to teach me invaluable lessons. So, here’s to many more mistakes, a labyrinth of learning ahead, and eventually capturing magic on those large, glorious negatives! Stay tuned, for my next adventures might involve wrestling with technology and perhaps a photography guide to setting up camp in awkward public spaces. Because who doesn’t love a little chaos with their creativity?