With my camera in hand, I scurry around the trees in Central Park, watching as the tourists line up between the leaves. After seeing what I hope to be a good shot, I raise the viewfinder to my eye and get ready to shoot. Crank, clink, click. The camera’s mirror bangs against the top of the camera—exposing a thin sheet of film. In a fraction of a second, the mirror slams back down, shielding the already exposed film.
I spent hours aimlessly walking around the park, trying to capture people being their authentic selves. To me, authenticity is when people exist in the spaces they’re in, without thinking about how they are perceived by others. Every time I take a photo, it’s of people being their authentic selves. I capture the emotions on their face, the position of their limbs, and how they’re interacting with the space around them. Not only does a photo capture other people being their authentic selves, but a camera allows me to share my authenticity. The camera becomes an extension of how I view the world and what I want to capture. Each photo I take is a representation of how I viewed the scene through my eyes. While some argue that taking a photo takes someone out of the moment, I believe watching a scene through a camera’s viewfinder is another way to experience it. I’m still able to see, hear, and feel what is happening through a camera, but now, I have the ability to capture it.
Shooting film adds another layer of authenticity. The option of previewing the photo on a screen is gone. A film camera’s viewfinder is light hitting the mirror and spitting out an image. Every photo I take is a moment forever imprinted on the film; it cannot be altered. I can look through the physical film and see how the light left its mark on a physical object. This differs from digital photography, which can be manipulated before and after the photo is taken. A digital sensor can only replicate what it sees through the lens. While digital cameras are made up of pixels with a computer replicating each color and detail, film is made up of the imprint of light. Film is more authentic since the light itself makes the photo, not a sensor replicating it.
The first time I looked through a film camera’s viewfinder was at a flea market in Amsterdam. After walking past this one booth over and over again, staring at the camera, I mustered up the courage to pick it up. I aimed it at two banana boxes stacked on top of each other; they didn’t perfectly fit, and the box on top had one of its corners sticking up. With my two eyes, it looked like a perfectly normal banana box. However, through the viewfinder, I saw the sun gleaming down on it, giving off a warm color against the cardboard. I had never seen an empty banana box look so beautiful before. In a way, the camera’s portrayal of the banana box was more beautiful than what I could see with my two eyes. Without the camera, my eyes would have glazed over the boxes without a second thought. With a camera, the boxes became something to take note of, something that prompted you to pause everything. Whenever I hold a camera, I become a person that notices things.
A camera makes me more mindful of my surroundings and makes me take note of what is around me. Without it, I would forget to take in my environment. To me, authenticity also involves seeing the genuine beauty in things, whether it be people, a butterfly, or even banana boxes. With a camera, it becomes even easier to experience that authentic beauty—noticing all of the details and intricacies that make something unique.
A camera also allows me to capture the beauty of my loved ones and of the people I’m with. On a recent trip to Rhode Island, I took a Polaroid of every person I met. I didn’t tell them how to pose, whether to smile or frown or to even look at the camera. I found that people regularly fall into their natural state, posing in a way they feel the most comfortable—being their authentic selves within the space around them. Even though they know that they are being photographed, they are choosing how they present themselves. “This is the most like me I’ve ever looked,” a friend told me after I showed them their finished Polaroid. The camera captured their authentic self better than any other medium.
Sometimes, I even took Polaroids of my friends without them knowing. After the film comes out of the camera, they can see what they looked like and what they were doing just a few minutes ago. I captured moments of us walking around campus, eating apple pie, and watching coming-of-age movies. Every Polaroid taken immediately becomes imprinted on physical film, which is then developed on a 3x3 inch square. Every person was fully represented in the photo. Now, they have a physical representation of it.
In “What is Authenticity?” by Theo Van Leeuwen, he states “Something can be called ‘authentic’ because it is thought to be true to the essence of something” (Van Leeuwen 2001, 393). I find that, through my photography, I am always trying to capture the essence of the person I am photographing. When I take candids, I capture what the subject is naturally doing at the moment, as well as how they’re feeling. When I take portraiture, I capture all aspects of that person and how they choose to represent themselves. In both cases, I am capturing the true essence of the subject.
To me, photography and authenticity have an ever-changing relationship. At face value, photography represents the “truth” of a scene. It represents what is happening more objectively than a description or a painting. Taking a photo is the most authentic representation. However, whenever I take a photo, I choose which angle to shoot at, which focal length to use, and what shutter speed and aperture to use. In this case, the photo is no longer one hundred percent “true” since I am manipulating aspects of the photo. Despite this, I still think that the photo is authentic to myself and how I view the scene. This allows for an authentic relationship between the photographer and the subject. The photographer is interpreting what they are seeing and the subject is represented as living their authentic life. Photography can reflect the authenticity of what is in the image, but it can also be authentic to the photographer.