Written and Photographed by Nick Chismar

The SRT-202 is arguably one of Minolta’s legendary cameras, fully mechanical and built like a tank it was probably the best camera for a college student like myself to learn on my own. One of the first subjects to land a place on Tri-X was Bethlehem Steel’s former world Headquarters, Martin Tower. A nice gray and misty day added to the challenge of photographing the 23-story blue and white structure from behind the chain-link fences.

Introduction

“Who here has shot film before?” These were the first words of my photography 1 professor just over a year ago. I certainly had never shot film, nor could I remember the last time my parents had. The studio was packed with nervous college students, some of which would drop out that first week.

How could we use these cameras? How do we turn them on? None of us even understood what a darkroom really was. However a few months later our cameras were simply an extension of ourselves, the cameras were always on and ready to roll, and the darkroom was our stressful home away from home. This wasn’t the most comfortable class a college student could ask for, as we all were stripped of our digital shields, but it certainly was one we needed and learned from.

Who I Am

My name is Nick Chismar and I have been shooting digitally for about 6 years now, film only becoming a part of my life within the last year and a half. I’m from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania in the United States, the birthplace of Bethlehem Steel, formerly the world’s second-largest steelmaker, and now a growing travel and cultural destination an hour or so north of Philadelphia. I tend to drift towards architecture, abstraction, and a more documentative style of photography, however, I'm always looking to expand my comfort zone. My work can be found on my Instagram where I share a mix of analog and digital images and really anything I can bring myself to share.

Gear

Armed with my father’s Minolta SRT-202 and Rokkor-X 50mm f1.7 that he bought new in 1976 I took my first steps into the real world of photography. This is not to say that digital is not real, I simply mean that for myself I had never thought deeply about what I photographed or how I did it. The challenge was to meet each project’s requirements in a timely manner, so off we all went armed to the teeth with Kodak’s legendary Tri-X 400.

The first thing was to learn the camera. The SRT-202 is arguably one of Minolta’s legendary cameras, fully mechanical and built like a tank it was probably the best camera for a college student like myself to learn on my own. Using the built-in through the lens CLC meter was simple enough, and readouts for aperture and shutter speed in the viewfinder are more than legible making for easy changes without taking your eye off your subject. Loading the film however was the trickiest part, since it was something I had never done.

Unfortunately, several rolls of Tri-X were improperly loaded, then believed to have been shot, developed, and found to have never been exposed at all. After learning what I had been doing wrong I finally stopped missing shots I was excited about and got to shooting on a regular basis.

The First Few Rolls

One of the first subjects to land a place on Tri-X was Bethlehem Steel’s former world Headquarters, Martin Tower. A nice gray and misty day added to the challenge of photographing the 23-story blue and white structure from behind the chain-link fences. The most challenging aspect was to photograph the structure in a new way, but the typical “car in front of tower” and such images found their way onto the roll. I ended up shooting there twice for this first assignment since the first roll was one of the early blanks from improper loading. I was really glad to have gone back however, since less than a year later I would be photographing it again with the same stock and camera, but this time it would be its implosion, but that's a story for another day!

Roll number two found its subject amongst the rusting remains of industry. Tucked between the Lehigh River and South Mountain is the former steel plant, where five monstrous blast furnaces dominate the landscape. The challenge was to capture the industrial feeling while keeping out as much of the new walkways, signs, and pedestrian objects as possible. The furnaces allowed for some perspective-based shots, looking up at the towering beasts while down the trestle and remains of the mill. There is never a lack of inspiration here since every inch provides the viewer with a new texture, shape, or angle to capture.

Turning back toward the original headquarters, built in 1916, I changed my focus to a solitary ore cart, number 2 on the tracks. Hoping to test the sharpness of the Rokkor glass and to add some shape and depth to the image, I attempted to stack the buildings in-frame to show the size of the former mill. The interest here though was on that number 2, the only written connection to the old world with the new Yuengling Beer signs below it. The rest of the day was spent exploring the mill by foot, looking for the next image to carefully frame.

Lessons From The Darkroom

Once back in the studio we all learned what our biggest fear was. If we got past the stress of the pitch black loading room, provided we properly loaded our film, we now had to develop it. For myself, the near half hour process was enjoyable at first, but caused too much stress. A careful watch was kept on the chemicals to make sure everything was mixed properly, and the timer seemed to taunt us as each step crept onward. Once the photoflo was mixed in and the film unrolled however we could all take a breath of relief, however now it was off to make some prints.

I felt most comfortable at the enlarger. It's one thing to make an image, develop and then scan it to share online, but to spend time physically producing it by hand was something I learned to love. A careful eye was needed to focus the enlarger on a scrap piece of Ilford Multigrade IV, but once ready the procedure had to be carried out with extreme precision.

Once the struggle of centering the image was over the lamp was turned off. A new piece of paper was placed in the holder, the aperture was set to f11, and exposure time to six seconds. With the press of a button, the clock began to count down until the buzzer went off, then it went over to the developer. One minute of light agitation, a few seconds to drip, then to the stop bath, fixer, and lastly the holding tank. It wasn’t until out of the room, under the lights of the studio, that one could truly celebrate, but even when mistakes were made the experience was well worth it. Each print that came out was better than the last, sharper, more contrast, dodged and burned where it was needed. It was one thing to look at your image in bridge or lightroom, but to see it on a piece of silver gelatin paper up on the wall was something new and inspiring. I was hooked.

Onto Today

With our final portfolios submitted, we all could finally relax. Over were the days of late-night darkroom work, mid-shoot battery failures, and blank rolls. For some, this was the end of their film work, but for others like myself, it was merely the beginning. Taking a college class in analog photography pushed us past the comfort of our phones, the point-shoot-delete life of digital photography, and forced us to think. We each had 36 chances to get it right, and on a college budget, you really have to make it count. Instead of clicking away and looking to the screen we had to trust our judgment, carefully frame, and find the right exposure. We learned the basics, and that was really it, but in today’s instant world of photography that back-to-the-roots work is sometimes all that is needed.

Everywhere I go today I bring along the Minolta SRT-202 and a roll of film. I learned so much in that one semester that it carried over to my digital work as well. Though I am always improving and my work is far from great, analog photography allowed me to take a step back and think about what I was photographing. It ignited a process and a passion that has only grown since and likely will never stop. On the first day, my professor told me that film and photography were a sickness, and with a growing collection of film stocks and Minoltas, I can honestly say he was right about it all.

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