redfishingboat

The scene is Hollywood. I’m halfway to dropping film off at The Icon on Wilshire. I have my Leica in my hand and I’m waiting for the bus. I’m finishing off a roll that has been in the camera for a couple weeks. I take a picture and the counter slides past thirty-six. I take another and the counter goes to thirty-seven. I get nervous. I fire off another and go past thirty-eight. Panicking, I click, wind, click, wind, click.

Oh no, not again.

Flashback, the first: Discovering that a roll of film didn’t load properly is a rush of desperate frustration. It’s like a sinking feeling in fast-forward. It’s a rapid plummet as the heart searches for some escape where there is none. It’s terror and pain. I just went through this!

Oh no, not again, indeed.

Flashback the second: A couple weeks ago I’m chatting with Bill, and I’m loading my Leica. An idea strikes me: If I load my camera inside the lightproof change bag, I can get perhaps two or three extra frames from the roll of film that would normally be exposed to light. I’m very proud of myself and I brag about my idea. Bill accedes to the possible wisdom of this, but seems wisely hesitant to laud it as groundbreaking.

Now, back to our story.

I get nervous. I fire off another and go past thirty-eight. Panicking, I click, wind, click, wind, click, and clang. The film stops winding. It stops winding! The film had loaded properly. Turns out I had a good three extra frames – that I just burned with random clicks in my wild fit of desperation.

Nice work, genius.