Fun With Film In Sweden

My sister is my favorite person to take pictures with, and our late-spring family trip to Sweden seemed like a good time to break out some of the weirder films in my arsenal.

Stockholm in mid-May was gorgeous and glorious, with hot sunlight bursting through the trees and the fragrance of fresh lilacs perfuming the air. It was my first time in Scandinavia, quite a different beast than the Turkish chaos and grimy Eastern European elegance that I’m accustomed to. The days stretched out long past 10pm as we wandered the clean wide streets of Sodermalm with our cousins and assorted Swedish hipsters.

Hillary brought me more sparkly green Volvox film from the US so we could play with it in Stockholm. It was a good choice, because the splotches of radiation green made the magic manifest; with the sky bleeding blush and air redolent with lilacs, it really felt like the world could burst into neon fireflies. On my first go-round with this film, I purposefully shot the roll at the Grand Bazaar to capitalize on the moody shadows that make the green pop. This time I was much looser with my shooting, though I think it still sparkles best in low light, especially at sunset.

I also broke out some Lomochrome Purple, a quirky film I haven’t used much recently but clearly should. We visited a wonderful little museum called Artipelag which had a whole outdoor exhibition of strange pieces tucked into the leafy water-skirting walkway. Mirrors in the woods and docks jutting out into the water made perfect places for shooting.

I loaded this roll into my Olympus Mju compact camera, which has a built-in flash that I thought could make some interesting effects— which it did during the violet hour, at the end of Stockholm’s stretched-out summer days.

Sometimes I need these reminders to be freer with my shooting, to pick weird films that might go wrong and take chances. It’s always hard to let go of the control, but when we do, that’s when the magic happens. At least, that’s what I believe.