Revisited

Just now I'm engaged in my annual winter pastime - scanning old photos, digitising them for easy access on my laptop and phone, and of course easy sharing. My nephew and niece have waited a long time for a better, much more comprehensive, collection of old family photographs. I may at last be able to supply them with that by the end of February. Back in November I estimated that I had around 2,000 prints to scan - say three months' work, on and off, with enhancement and captioning included. I've given it a lot of time, and it looks increasingly likely that I will indeed finish the whole thing this winter. 

I shot print film from the end of 1989 to the beginning of 2000, when I switched to digital photography. So these are old pictures from the 1990s, a decade long past. I was forty in 1992, so I am working my way through photos taken around thirty years ago. It's an interesting exercise. 

Firstly, there is the technical interest. I consistently used a manually-focused Olympus OM-1N SLR camera, most often with a fast 50mm f/1.4 lens attached. So most of these shots share the same perspective. But I experimented a lot with different film stock, mostly colour but some of it black and white, from Konica, Fujifilm, Ilford and Kodak. The results lack the amazing sharpness, subtle tonality and clear shadow detail typical of modern digital rendition. On the other hand, these old prints have a particular 'look' that many contemporary people would say is attractive and special. That 'look' doesn't come through the scanning process quite intact, especially after I've done what I can to make details more distinct, to repair blown highlights, and to bring out shadow detail. But the enhanced result is still obviously derived from a print developed from a spool of negative film - something clearly very different from electronic capture. Putting this another way, although I personally prefer digital, I can perfectly see why some people have gone back to using film. (They also get to play with a huge variety of old equipment, cheap or expensive; but that's another story)

Secondly, these are all people shots, and it's extraordinary to see old friends again. It's hard not to be fascinated. Every print was captioned, so I know who they were, and where and when the shot was taken. Social occasions that had slipped my mind have now been remembered. And I can recall the voice and personality of nearly everyone. These pictures bring the past to life.

There is of course a sad aspect. Thirty years have now passed. What happened to these friends of the 1990s? We did not stay in touch. Have they prospered? Or have their lives been blighted by tragedy or ill-health? At the very least, all of them will be thirty years older and will show the signs of it, just as I do. The young will have grown middle-aged, and the middle-aged will now be old or dead. If we could meet again now, would we even recognise each other? And yet, looking at these pictures, I feel that in some instances it would be worth making an effort to get in touch.

I've pondered the wisdom of seeking out old friends before. See, for instance, my post Old Friends on 1st March 2021. I concluded then that if fate sent anyone back into my life, it would be right to meet up and see what resulted. 

Otherwise, it would be too much like a blind date. There might be pleasure, but the likelihood of disappointment would be high. The consequences of deliberately tracing old friends are just too uncertain. Even if prepared for a rebuff, it would still hurt if I actually got one. I don't think anybody would be impolite or angry with me - but who knows? Why risk being damaged? 

In any case, why intrude at all into other people's lives? Haven't we all moved on? Gone irrevocably down one road, to the exclusion of others? Life is a river than never flows backwards.

Or a further thought: why replace any fond memory they might still have of me - as I was thirty years ago, that is - with the much-changed modern version that they might not like? Is that a good or reasonable thing to do? How would I react if someone I used to know came unexpectedly to my door - cold-calling as it were - and expected me to respond to them with a warm welcome? I'm not sure I would cope. 

And yet... 

The curiosity to know what happened to these old friends, and to find out what they are like now, is very strong. We might, in our maturity, and with the benefit of thirty more years of living, have much to say to each other, and many things in common. People often live parallel lives. We might even be friends again, better than before.  

To make contact - or not to - is clearly going to be an ongoing question as I do further scanning. I need to make my mind up. It's a pressing issue, which can't wait too long. Anybody who was the same age as me back in the 1990s is now seventy. Time is running out!