Heirloom Cameras

Heirlooms are usually objects defined by their desirability that have been passed down for generations from one family member to the next. There is an inherent degree of difficulty in replacing them due to their value or uniqueness. Historically, heirlooms were tools, hence the word loom in the name, but the concept has evolved in modern times to commonly include jewelry such as necklaces and earrings for women and mechanical or quartz watches for men. Yet I believe there is much more to an heirloom than simply being valuable or one of a kind.

I recently inherited two 35mm film cameras from my grandfather who is now quite old and nearing the end of his remarkable life. One was a Nikon F4s, which was his primary camera in the 90s, and the other was an older Minolta X-700, which had originally been owned by his father. I grew up admiring the beautiful photos of animals and landscapes lining the walls of my grandparents’ home that my grandfather had taken on various trips all over the world. I have long wanted to capture similar images, so I was excited to put these cameras to use. However, I did not have much experience shooting on film apart from using disposable cameras when I was younger.

Neither camera been used in a long time, so I gave them a good cleaning and purchased a few rolls of Kodak Portra 400 film. I brought the Minolta with me on a recent trip to Albania and Greece to visit the birthplace of my grandfather (on the other side of my family). Shooting on film is more expensive and complicated these days compared to digital photography, yet I have recently found myself fascinated by the analog world that is increasingly fading away and was happy with my new camera during the trip. It required patiently lining up shots, which was a positive limitation invoked by the cost of each shot and the inability to review the result in the moment. The feeling of using the camera that my grandfather had used to capture photos from his trips four decades earlier is hard to put into words. Using it to capture photos of where my other grandfather was born added an even deeper level of meaning for me.

When I returned home, I had the film developed and digitally scanned before visiting my grandfather to show him the pictures I had captured. He seemed to really appreciate them and especially enjoyed the photos of what he called "big rocks" that the monasteries of Meteora, Greece miraculously sit upon. My grandmother shared a story about traveling with the Nikon and laughed about how ridiculous she thought it was when my grandfather would suddenly get excited by something and thrust the heavy lens bag into her hands while he ran off with his camera to take a photo.

Although the cameras sat ignored in storage for over two decades, they completed a transformation from unwanted objects into heirlooms the moment I retrieved them. They are noticeably high quality and have become increasingly more difficult to replace each year. More importantly, however, they have a life of their own, exemplified by their storied relationship with my grandfather and his father before him. The cameras have introduced me to a new way to approach photography and resurfaced family memories that I had never previously heard. I hope to recapture the places my grandfather explored half a century later using the same tools as him and eventually pass the cameras on myself if they last.