Press Start: My First Proper Photoshoot

As a photographer, there’s always a moment when you have to push yourself out of your comfort zone to grow. If you read my last post, you know I’m reaching that point in my photography journey; get uncomfortable, or keep shooting the same boring shit all the time. Back in December, I made the commitment to putting myself out there more. This meant meeting new people, networking with other creatives and doing at least 1 photoshoot per month. Here’s how January’s went down.

The Concept

The whole retrowave-vibe is slowly becoming by entire personality; think lots of pink, teal, neon and everyone drives a Countach. Just move me to Miami, already. The place in my area that I thought of that could still have a proper 90’s feel to it still was a local shopping mall. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but when I checked the place out, it was a definite no. Back-up location number one had permanently closed since I last looked into it and, back-up location number 2 wanted $500 to rent out the entire venue. Hard pass. Finally, I landed on Joe’s Playland; an arcade on the beach in Salisbury, MA. I quickly began the pre-shoot planning process: getting permission from the venue, scouting out the location for lighting, ideas, parking and a place for the make-up artist to set up and work.

The locations was perfect but I needed to pivot from the retrowave aesthetic and focused on an 80’s/90’s arcade vibe. It’s not the most original idea—there’s literally millions of “girl in an arcade” photos out there—but I aimed to set mine apart with cohesive wardrobe styling and hair/makeup. Even without a strong narrative in the images, I wanted the theme to stand out.

For weeks, I had been saving ideas and inspirations to a Pinterest board. This gave me a general starting place laying out the overall feel of the images I wanted to create. Once the arcade was confirmed as the location, I pared down the inspiration images considerably. I then used Canva to create a document that laid out all the details of the shoot: dates, times, outfit, hair and make-up options. I then sent this document over to the model and the make-up artist to be sure we were all totally on the same page.

The Challenges

Lighting Issues
Lighting was my biggest hurdle. The venue didn’t allow any external lighting, so I had to work with available light. This meant flat, unflattering fluorescent light coming from directly above the model’s head. When I scouted the location the week prior, I had noticed the second floor of the venue had an entire wall of near floor-to-cieling, south-facing windows that let a ton of natural light pour in that would eventually transition into golden-hour light as the sun set. However, on the day of the shoot, a winter storm rolled in, and I lost that beautiful light almost immediately. Once we moved to the ground floor, the ambient light from the arcade games helped a lot, but it wasn’t ideal.

I brought my Mamiya RZ67 with me because it’s the portrait camera and, ever the optimist, I hoped the light would be adequate enough that I could keep my shutter speed high enough to hand hold it. Even with an 800-speed film the fastest shutter speed that I was able to maintain was 1/30th, 1/60th. I don’t recommend trying to shoot an RZ67 hand-held at 1/30th.**

Damaged Equipment
I brought a Tiffen ProMist filter because I wanted to add a bit of flair to the arcade lights. When I went to remove the UV filter from my 28-70mm lens, it wouldn’t budge. I turned harder - didn’t budge. Used a rubber glove for some extra grip, now I meant business - didn’t budge. Looking at the lens, at some point in the last year it took a pretty good whack; there was a dent in the filter ring that now had the UV filter locked onto the front the lens. Excellent. (As someone who shits on people using UV filters at any opportunity, I am well aware of the irony here. Ask me in the comments why I always have a UV filter mounted). So now I have to stack the ProMist filter on top of the UV filter - a less than ideal situation. It wasn’t the end of the world but it was an unnecessary additional stress into what was, for me, an already stressful event.

A New Camera
I traded in my Sony A900 for a new-to-me Sony A99. Although I’d been warming up to the new camera for this shoot, it was still an adjustment. It’s similar enough to my A900 (a camera I can run with my eyes closed), but there’s always a learning curve with new gear.

Autofocus Struggles
When the natural light disappeared, the face detection autofocus on my camera started struggling. Things improved when we moved downstairs, but it was a lesson in being prepared for less-than-perfect lighting conditions. The A99 has excellent autofocus, but it performs at its best with newer, Sony lenses; I, of course, was running an old Minolta lens.

The tiny dent that created a giant headache

The Successes

Despite the challenges, there were plenty of wins that made the shoot an overwhelming success.

An Amazing Team
The model I worked with was experienced and intuitive, which made my job much easier. I didn’t have to spend much mental energy on directing her—just small adjustments for lighting or hair placement. Similarly, the makeup artist was a pro and brought her own creative ideas that elevated the concept. Collaborating with such skilled professionals was a huge boost. Had either of them been a lesser model or a lesser make up artist, the end result would have not been anything close to what it was.

Pre-Shoot Prep
I created a pre-shoot brief using Canva that outlined the concept in detail, complete with reference photos. This was a game-changer. It helped me flesh out my vague idea into a clear, executable vision. It also set expectations for the model and MUA, so they could come prepared. I also took the time to scout the location in advance so that I knew what kind of light I would be working with, make sure there was a suitable location for the MUA to set up and work, and to pre-plan some locations within the arcade to take some shots.

Execution
Everyone showed up on time, and the makeup was finished as scheduled. The shoot started on time, and I got all the shots I wanted. When I hit creative blocks, the model had great suggestions to keep things moving. The incoming storm worked in our favor by keeping the venue nearly empty, giving us free rein of the space.

Personal Growth
The biggest success wasn’t technical—it was personal. Meeting strangers from the internet to lead a project like this is completely out of my comfort zone. I’m not a naturally sociable person, and the idea of meeting new people gives me hives. My anxiety was fully present and, while on the way to the shoot, my sole thought was, “just don’t look like a jackass”. But I pushed through, and I’m so glad I did. This experience wasn’t just about growing as a photographer; it was about pushing myself personally. And now? I’m addicted. I need to do this again.

Lessons Learned

Here are the key takeaways from this experience:

• Prep is everything. Have a clear vision, communicate it, and plan every detail. Don’t leave it to the last minute, especially if working with a team.

• Be flexible. Things won’t always go as planned, don’t be so locked into one course of action that you can’t adjust..

• Ask for help. Whether it’s advice, collaboration, or access to a venue, people are often willing to help if you just ask.

• Just do it. Anxiety will tell you all the reasons to stay home, but the reality is never as bad as you imagine.

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Final Thoughts

This shoot was a major step forward for me as a photographer. It forced me to tackle challenges head-on, collaborate with talented creatives, and push myself beyond my usual boundaries. The result? A collection of images I’m proud of and an experience I can’t wait to repeat.

If you’re thinking about planning your first photoshoot, here’s my advice: prep, stay flexible, and don’t let anxiety hold you back. You’ll surprise yourself with what you can accomplish.

Model: @alycia_erin_
MUA: @lexieartistry_

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*Let me break it down in more detail for those of you who don’t shoot medium format. I needed to drop my shutter speed so low because I needed to keep my aperture as small as possible to maximize the depth of field. The size of a 6x7 negative is nearly double the size of a frame of 35mm, or a full-frame 35mm digital sensor. This means that the depth of field, for any given aperture, on 6x7 is about 25% of the size of the depth of field for the same aperture on 35mm.

35mm: 8 feet from the subject, 50mm lens, f/2.8 = DoF 16 inches

6x7: 8 feet from the subject, 110mm lens (roughly 50mm equivalent), f/2.8 = DoF 7 inches

Change that to 5’ = DoF 2 inches

(If you don’t fully understand how aperture, shutter speed and ISO/film speed interact, read this)

So if I focus on your eyes, that gives me 3.5 inches in front of and behind your eyes to work with. Your eyes are in focus, but the tip of your nose isn’t; these are the margins I’m working with; if your head moves slightly when you inhale, or I shift my weight, focus is missed.

So obviously I want to be shooting at something like f/5.6-f/8.0. I don’t have the light inside this arcade to shoot that though, the shutter speed would be far too low - 1/15th, 1/8th. Not a chance. Best I can do is 1/30th at f/4.0. I can shoot a 35mm SLR hand-held at 1/30th all day. Hell, I could even get down to 1/8th. But the RZ67 is huge, physically; it’s a lot of camera to try to hold still. The huge mirror inside the RZ, even when the camera is locked down on a tripod, can cause camera shake at those slow shutter speeds when the shutter is fired and the mirror swings out of the way.

Had I been able to use flash, this would have been less of an issue. I could have shot at f/8.0 with a very slow shutter speed because the firing of the flash would freeze the model still and camera shake or her/my movement wouldn’t have impacted the image in a negative way. It actually could have made a very cool images (google shutter drag photography).

Olympus OM-1 Review: A Love Letter to Simplicity

The Olympus OM-1, first released in 1972, quickly became an icon in the world of 35mm film cameras. Designed by Yoshihisa Maitani, the OM-1 was part of Olympus' groundbreaking OM series, which introduced the world to compact, lightweight, and highly functional SLR cameras. But while the OM-1 is beloved by many, I can't say it's flawless—there’s one glaring issue that holds it back from perfection, and we’ll get to that.

Finding My OM-1

I stumbled upon my Olympus OM-1 on Facebook Marketplace for just $20. The seller thought it was broken, but I couldn’t pass up the chance at such a legendary camera for such a low price. When I received it, the body itself was in great condition but, internally, I found the typical problem of a corroded battery compartment and terminals. This was an easy fix, but the light meter still didn’t work. A little research revealed that this is a common issue in old OM-1’s, often due to corroded contacts in the on/off switch or even deteriorated light meter materials.

To get the light meter working again, I cleaned it out the battery compartment and started "exercising" the on/off switch, hoping to wear away the internal corrosion. Eventually, I put in a fresh battery and exposed the meter to direct sunlight for a few hours. Surprisingly, it came to life!

Battery work around

The OM1 needs the now-defunct mercury batteries, but I’ve been using LR44 batteries and compensating for the voltage difference by adjusting the ISO setting to -2 stops. When I load 400-speed film, for example, I set the ISO to 100. The workaround has been reliable, and I recheck the meter every few weeks to see if any further adjustments are necessary. It’s a quick, set-it-and-forget-it fix.

For perspective, the Canon F1 was Canon’s flagship professional camera; Canon’s answer to the illustrious Nikon F, and was released in 1971. The OM-1 was released just one year later in 1972.

Handling and Build Quality

The OM1 is small, solid, and well-engineered. Every detail, from the textured focus ring on the lens to the smooth film advance, feels premium. It’s a joy to use and carries a certain charm that modern digital cameras just can’t replicate. It’s a solid, compact camera that feels reassuring in the hand. While not the smallest or lightest camera I own, it’s much less fatiguing to carry around all day compared to my larger, bulkier Minolta SRTs or Canon F1. The film rewind mechanism is another area where the OM-1 shines. It’s as simple as flipping a switch and turning the film spool—no awkward buttons on the bottom of the camera to fumble with. The lens focus ring is also a highlight, with a beautifully textured grip that’s easy to hold, even in cold weather. It reminds me of the grip checkering on a high-end steel pistol, solid and reliable..

The OM-1 comes with features like a self-timer, mirror lock-up, and the ability to accept a motor drive, but I tend to avoid these functions on vintage cameras. Mechanical self-timers are known to lock up and brick older cameras, and motor drives can stress the delicate internal gears, leading to mechanical failure.

Close up of the excellent texture of the focusing ring

All-Mechanical Charm

One of the OM-1’s standout features for me is that it’s fully mechanical—aside from the light meter, no battery is required. This makes it especially useful in cold weather, where batteries tend to die faster. With the OM-1, I never have to worry. It’ll work no matter the temperature, which is a huge plus for those of us who like to brave the elements. There’s something satisfying about a camera that’s this reliable—it’s always ready to go.

The Genius and Frustration of the Viewfinder

Now, let’s talk about the viewfinder, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s large, bright, and covers 97% of the frame with 0.92x magnification, making it easy to compose shots. What you see is what you get, with no unpleasant surprises of unintended objects creeping into the edges of your frame. Plus, the light meter is wonderfully simple—just line up the needle in the middle. But here’s where things go wrong.

A selection of images taken with my OM-1

Selection of images taken with my OM-1.

Unlike many other cameras of its era, the OM-1 doesn’t show your camera settings in the viewfinder. You can’t see the aperture or shutter speed while looking through it, which forces you to take your eye off the scene to make adjustments. For a camera that otherwise boasts one of the best viewfinders in the world, this is a huge drawback. It’s a dealbreaker for some, and while I wouldn’t go that far, I can’t deny that it really interrupts the flow of shooting.

And yes, I know that Yoshihisa Maitani, the mastermind behind the OM-1, was in a constant battle with Olympus to keep the size of the camera as compact as possible—down to the millimeter. And sure, some compromises had to be made. The lack of data in the viewfinder was likely one of them. But still, it's a tough pill to swallow when you know how close this camera is to being absolutely perfect.

Shutter Speed Placement: Brilliant But Ruined by the Viewfinder

One of the more unique design elements of the OM-1 is its shutter speed control, located on a ring around the lens mount rather than on top of the camera body like most SLRs. This design is actually genius. It allows you to adjust the shutter speed and aperture while keeping your hand in its natural shooting position—no awkward finger movements or shifting your grip. But again, without being able to see your settings in the viewfinder, you’re constantly stopping to check what you’ve just set. It’s such a missed opportunity because this design could have made the OM-1 one of the most intuitive cameras to shoot with.

Close up of the shutter speed selection dial behind the lens mount.

Comparisons: OM-1 vs. Pentax ME Super vs. Minolta X700

The OM-1 has a couple of rivals in my collection: the Pentax ME Super and the Minolta X-700.

The Pentax is smaller and lighter, and the viewfinder shows your selected shutter speed, which is better than nothing. The extra shutter speed is useful when shooting in bright sunlight. It also has aperture priority mode, which is convenient, but its fully manual operation is clunky at best. Rather than using the typical dial on the top plate of the camera, you’re forced to use an up/down arrow to select your shutter speed. And let’s face it, the build quality isn’t quite on par with the OM-1, especially when it comes to the cheap-feeling 50mm f/2 lens I have for it.

The X-700 is newer, has more features, and displays all of your settings in the viewfinder. But also, being from the 80’s, it’s the most plasticky of the three, and has notorious capacitor issues that can brick the camera. While the X-700 is a solid performer, especially for its features, it lacks the OM-1’s mechanical charm. Still, if you’re looking for features and modern conveniences, the X-700 beats the OM1 in those respects.

Pentax ME Super (left) vs Olympus OM-1 (right)

The awkward shutter speed selector arrows of the ME Super

Left to Right: Pentax ME Super, Olympus OM-1, Minolta X-700

Closing Thoughts

The Olympus OM1 is a beautiful camera that’s easy to fall in love with—especially if you’re into fully manual, mechanical cameras like I am. Its build quality, intuitive design, and reliable performance make it a solid choice for any film photographer. I just wish it didn’t interrupt my shooting flow with the need to constantly check the settings outside the viewfinder.

While the Pentax ME Super might be smaller and lighter, and the Minolta X-700 offers more features, if I had to choose one camera to bring on a once-in-a-lifetime trip, it would be the OM-1. It’s reliable, compact, and has no aging electronics or batteries to worry about failing. Sure, the lack of viewfinder information is a pain, but the overall experience of shooting with the OM-1 more than makes up for it. And for $20 and a bit of elbow grease, it’s an iconic camera that I’m happy to have in my collection.

If you’re a fan of vintage cameras or are looking for something solid and dependable that won’t leave you stranded with dead batteries, the OM-1 is worth considering. It may not be perfect, but it’s close.

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Optimizing My Film and Developer Combination: My Ongoing Exploration

One of the challenges I’ve encountered as I dive deeper into the technical side of black-and-white photography is settling on a single film and developer. If you’re like me, you might feel there are so many options available that it’s hard to commit to just one. For years, I shot almost exclusively with Kodak Tri-X, a classic black-and-white film. It’s incredibly flexible—whether I’m pushing it, pulling it, underexposing, or overexposing, I’ve always been able to rely on it for a usable image. When it comes to developers, I’ve been a Kodak D-76 fan for the same reasons: it’s cheap, versatile, and forgiving.

But now, with Kodak prices rising and less free time (having a kid will do that to you), I’ve started exploring alternatives. I’m leaning more toward Ilford HP5 these days, a film that’s very similar to Tri-X in terms of flexibility and performance, but at a more affordable price point. I’ve also switched from D-76 to Kodak HC-110 as my go-to developer. HC-110 comes in a concentrated liquid form that makes it easy to mix only what I need, and it stays shelf-stable for much longer than D-76, which is a huge advantage now that I’m not developing as frequently.

One resource that transformed my understanding of film photography is John Finch, a photographer and YouTuber from Pictorial Planet. Finch goes beyond the surface-level techniques and provides a methodology that fine-tunes film speed and development to individual workflows. His approach addresses the fact that the film speed on the box is arbitrary, designed under lab conditions that rarely align with personal shooting environments. This blog post documents my experience applying Finch’s methods to achieve precision in my film development process.

The Myth of "Box Speed"

Box speed is often taken as a given in film photography, but Finch's work reveals that this speed is simply a starting point. It's based on specific lab conditions that don’t necessarily translate to every photographer’s unique development process. By following Finch’s method, we recalibrate the film’s speed to better match our specific setups, from the chemicals we use to our development techniques.

For example, shooting film at box speed and developing it per the standard instructions often leaves potential on the table. Factors such as chemical temperature and mixing technique impact the final image quality. By tailoring development to my process, I’ve started achieving negatives that produce superior darkroom prints—something crucial for a larger, personal project I’m working on.

John Finch’s Film Speed Testing Method

John Finch’s approach is all about getting precise with your exposure and development workflow. He explains it much better than I can (check out his original video here), but here’s a quick summary of the steps I followed:

1. Set up your camera at the box speed of your chosen film (in my case, HP5 at 400 ISO).

2. Film Base Plus Fog Frame: In subdued light, cap the lens and take a completely black frame for later use in determining "maximum black" on your prints.

3. Take test exposures of a perfectly evenly lit, mid-gray-toned surface (I used a grey couch cushion). Use your camera’s light meter or a hand-held meter to determine the correct exposure for “Zone 5” in the Zone System. If you’re unfamiliar with Ansel Adams’ Zone System, the idea is to divide the tonal range from pure black to pure white into 11 zones, with zone 5 being a mid-gray. Decrease exposure by 4 stops to get the “Zone 1” exposure, which represents the darkest part of your image that still retains some detail. Then continue taking exposures, increasing by 1/3 stop intervals, until you reach "Zone 1 + 2 stops." This will give you the data points to analyze how your film performs across exposure ranges.

4. Develop the film according to the chosen developer’s instructions (in my case, HC110, which I mixed 10mL in 290mL of water at 68°F for 5 minutes, using the Ilford agitation method).

5. Set up the enlarger and make test prints using the Film Base Plus Fog frame. Starting with a test strip (I used 8 exposures at 1 second each), determine the time that gives you maximum black on the print. Once you have that, print your Zone 1 frame for comparison. Repeat the process for each exposure until you find the frame where the print is "just off black"—that frame tells you how your film should be rated in that developer.

My Results

For this test, I used a Minolta Maxxum 9 paired with a Minolta AF 28-70mm f/2.8G lens. I set up my grey couch cushion as the test surface, and following Finch’s method, I shot from Zone 1 up to Zone 1 + 2 stops, using 1/3 stop intervals. My development was done with Kodak HC110, mixed at a ratio of 10mL of concentrate to 290mL of water, with a 5-minute development time at 68°F.

Negative strip and test print on the light table. After the image of my hand, you can see the negative becoming progressively more dense as the exposure is increased by 1/3 of stop.

Here’s where things got interesting. After setting up my Beseler 23CII enlarger with a 50mm enlarging lens at f/8 and 9.5 inches of height, I made my test strip for maximum black. I ended up using 1-second exposures, not 3 as Finch suggested—using 3 seconds nuked the paper. At 1 second, I found my “maximum black” in 8 intervals.

When I printed the Zone 1 negative, I was surprised to find that it hit just off black right at Zone 1, meaning I was getting the full 400-speed performance from HP5 with HC110. Thinking I might have made an error, I reached out to John Finch through Instagram (you can find him here). He confirmed that HC110 is known for delivering the full box speed of HP5, and it wasn't unusual to see such results.

Printed test strip on the light table. Each change in tone is an increase in the paper's exposure time of 1 second

Wrapping It Up

Using John Finch’s method has already started to transform how I approach my film photography. I’ve learned that optimizing the film speed and matching it to my developer can have a significant impact on the quality of my negatives and, ultimately, my darkroom prints.

If you're a film photographer looking to get the most out of your negatives and prints, I highly recommend trying this method for yourself. It’s time-consuming, but the results speak for themselves. You can check out John Finch's original video here, which goes into even more detail, and follow his method step by step.

Stay tuned for future posts where I’ll be testing other film and developer combinations, including Ilford Delta 100 and Kodak Tri-X. I’ll be diving deep into how these combinations perform in different scenarios and sharing more results along the way. There’s also a part two for this process of optimizing your negatives; using a similar method to dial in the ideal film development time. So look out for that post coming down the line later on.

Pictorial Planet Youtube
Pictorial Planet Instagram
http://www.pictorialplanet.com

Pull Processing Tri-X 400

In the last post, I left out two concepts in the interest of not putting you to sleep with nerdy bullshit. However, after thinking it over, re-reading the post and getting feedback from some of you fine folk, I think we need to tackle these concepts to better understand push processing and pull processing film; dynamic range and how film works.

How Film Works - The Super Simple Explanation 

At its most basic, a piece of film has 3 components; a clear plastic base, some kind of gelatin and bits of light-sensitive silver halide suspended in the gelatin. When a photo is taken, light hits the film and causes a chemical reaction in the silver halide. In this chemical reaction, the silver halide turns into just plain silver. The areas that are hit with a lot light, have a stronger reaction and get converted into more silver and form the bright, highlight ares of the final image. The areas that are hit with very little light do not react as strongly and remain mostly silver halide and will eventually form the dark, shadow areas of the final image.

When the film is developed, wizardry happens, the silver halide that wasn’t hit with light is washed away while the silver halide that was hit with light and is now converted into silver remains on the film to form the image. Really what you end up with is the opposite of the image, bright areas on the film are black, dark areas are clear. Hence why it’s called a “negative”. 

When the film is sitting in the bath of developer, the developing chemical reacts more quickly with the parts of the film that have more silver, and it reacts slowly with the areas that have less silver. So this just means that the bright, highlight areas develop at a faster rate than the shadow areas. Thus the development process ultimately controls the highlights; leave the film in the developer bath for a longer period of time, you get brighter highlights and vice versa. It will affect the shadows to some extent but, if no light hit a certain part of the film then no silver halide was converted into silver, the silver halide will get washed away and you’ll be left with nothing but pure black in the area of the film in the final image. So you can’t take a photo of a pitch black room, develop the film for a really long time and hope to have some kind of image formed. 

Dynamic Range

The concept of dynamic range is going to tie into why one my choose to pull-process their film later on. Film (and also digital sensors) has a limited range of exposure values/brightness levels in which it is capable of recording detail, and this range is measured in stops. To illustrate what I mean, let’s imagine that Film Brand A has a dynamic range of 10 stops, Film Brand A can only accommodate a difference of 10 stops between the darkest area of detail and the brightest area of detail, anything that falls outside of that range gets recorded as pure black or pure white. The 10 stop range of Film Brand A can be shifted around creatively; choosing to expose the film mostly for the shadow areas and blowing out the brighter areas to pure white, or exposing the film mostly for the brighter areas and losing the details in the shadow areas to pure black. As a photographer, that’s just another creative decision that has to be made depending on what part of the scene the photographer has decided is most important. 

In the very well illustrated diagram below, we see a scene that has more dynamic range than the film is able to handle. The numbers are just a visual aid, they don’t actually mean or measure anything. So in the diagram we see that Film Brand A with its 10-stop dynamic range goes from -5 to +5. However the scene we want to photograph has a 14-stop range with -7 at the darkest shadows and +7 at the brightest highlights. If we decide that the darker areas of the scene are the most important, we can use Film Brand A’s range to capture from -7 to +3, everything brighter than +3 gets blown out to pure white with no details or texture. 

Or vice versa, if we decide that bright areas of the scene are are the most important, we can use Film Brand A’s range to capture from -3 to +7, everything darker than -3 gets lost to pure black with no details or texture. Hopefully that all makes sense. Like I said, the numbers are just visual aids, different types and brands of film are going to have varying dynamic ranges. Digital cameras operate more-or-less the same way with different camera sensors have different dynamic ranges.  

What Is Pull-Processing?

Did you guess that it’s the exact opposite of push-processing? Well, this isn’t a game show; there are no prizes. You’ll remember from my post on push-processing that there is a manufacturer recommended development time for a “normally” developed image. You may also remember that in push-processing, the film is left in the developer for a longer period of time than what’s recommended. In pull-processing, the film film is left in the developer for a shorter period of time than what’s recommended. Pull-processing is often combined with over-exposing the film in-camera when the images are being taken, but this doesn’t have to be the case. Like push-processing, pull-processing strictly refers to how the film is developed. 

What Are the Effects of Pull-Processing?

Unsurprisingly, pull-processing has the opposite effect of push-processing. While push processing results in more contrast and more visible grain, pull-processing results in less contrast and less visible grain. As stated above, the developing process mainly effects how the highlights turn out. Therefore, when we pull-process and cut the development time short, we get less developed, not as bright highlights, as we would with normal development. So since the shadows remain fairly the same, and the highlight brightness is reduced, we end up with less contrast in the final image. As opposed to push-processing, where we extend the development time, get brighter highlights and thus more contrast. 

Why Pull-Process? 

First and foremost, it can be used as a creative tool when going for a less-contrasty, less-grainy look. But what it is really well suited for is for shooting in high-contrast situations in which the dynamic range of the scene is greater than that of the film. I told you dynamic range was going to show up again. Picture shooting at high-noon on a cloudless, summer day. You’re going to have really dark shadows in some areas, and aggressively bright highlights in others.  Like I said before, if shooting and developing the film normally, the photographer has to decide whether he wants to capture the details of the dark areas or the bright areas of the scene. But with pull-processing, he can have his cake and eat it too. In a high-contrast situation like I just described, we expose the film for the shadow areas which will, of course, blow out the highlights. In development via pull-processing, we can “rescue” the highlight areas and bring some detail back because we don’t let the highlights develop as long as they would during normal development. 

Another instance in which pull-processing can be helpful is, let’s say you grabbed the wrong box of film and you’re out shooting on a nice, sunny day, and you’re stuck with a high-ISO film in a situation where you’d much prefer to have a lower-ISO film. You can rate your high-ISO film at a lower ISO and then pull the film during development to balance out the overexposure. Check this post here if that doesn’t quite make sense and all will be revealed. 

ChrisPy's Liquors, Pulled

Overpass, Normally Processed

Telescope, Pushed

My Thoughts and Experience

I took a roll of trusty Kodak Tri-X 400, rated it 2 stop less at ISO 100 and then pulled it 2 stops in development to compensate. I went out to find the highest contrast scenes I could think of so naturally I found myself driving around Boston at 3 in the morning, and I finished off the roll by walking around Beverly during the late afternoon. 

As expected, the daytime shots are pretty flat, no real areas of pure black or pure white. The night shots have more detail in the shadow areas and the highlights are relatively subdued. In both the day and night images, the grain is much less noticeable, particularly in the negative spaces like the sky and deep shadow areas. 

Burger King, Pulled

Jeep, Normally Processed

Rating the film at a lower ISO let me use a much longer shutter speed than if I had rated it at its native 400. The longer shutter speed enabled me to get some particularly interesting light trails from the cars driving through the scenes at night. 

Pull-processing probably isn’t something I’m going to be doing a whole lot of. The daytime shots are too flat for my taste, I definitely like my images to have more contrast. “But you can just add the contrast back during post-production”, I can hear you exclaiming already. That’s true, I could do that, but it’s more work, and I prefer to spend my time out making photos rather than sitting in front of the computer editing them. I do really like, however, how the night scenes came out. If I’m going out to shoot black and white film at night, I will definitely be overexposing and pull-processing again. I’ll have to try shooting color film at night and pulling it in development to see if that suits my taste as well. I’d also like to rate a 400 ISO film at 100 and pulling it 2 stops and compare that to the look that a native, 100 ISO film would give. 

Zakim Bridge, Pulled

North Station, Normally Processed

M.I.T. , Pulled

Storrow Drive, Pulled

Boston Alley, Pushed

Let me know which look you like best in the comments below. If you thought this post was interesting, share it with your friends, the more engagement these posts get the more of them I’m able to do.

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Push Processing Tri-X 400

In film photography, there’s two phases to making a photo: the exposure phase and the development phase, and in both phases of making the photo, you have some creative decisions to make that will impact the outcome of the final image. If you recall from the previous post, there are 3 parts to the exposure phase; aperture, film speed and shutter speed. These three things are known as the exposure triangle and you can manipulate each “leg” of the triangle to achieve different effects.. Likewise, film development has its own kind of exposure triangle; what type of developing chemical is being used, development temperature and development time. Like the exposure triangle, these three components of film developing can be manipulated to achieve different looks for the final image. In this post, we’ll be looking at development time - how long the exposed film sits in the developing chemicals for - specifically a technique known as “pushing” the film. 

What is pushing film (aka push processing)?

Pushing the film is when the expose film is left in the developer for a longer period of time than what is recommend for a “normal” development time. Pushing the film in development is usually combined with rating the film at a higher ASA than the manufacturers recommendation during the exposure phase, however, pushing the film strictly refers to the development phase. 

Effects of Pushing Film

During the developing process, the shadow areas of the scene will fully develop first, while the bright, highlight areas will continue to develop. The longer the film sits in the developer, the brighter the highlights will become. This creates more contrast in the final image. The other effect of push processing is a grainier final image. Pushing color film will increase the color saturation as well.

So why would anyone want to push their film? 

• It’s a stylistic choice

Some people choose to push process their film because they like the high-contrast, grainy look.

• Low-er Light Shooting

As whatever environment you are shooting in begins to get darker, your shutter speeds are going to get longer to allow more light to hit the film. Eventually, your shutter speed will be long enough that taking a photo of a moving subject will be impossible to do without having a blurry subject, or you want to be able to hand-hold the camera anymore because the natural shakiness of your hands will result in blurry photos. To combat this, we can rate the film at a higher ASA e.g. take your 400 ASA film and shoot it as if it were a 1600 ASA film. Rating the film 2 stops higher will allow you to shoot at a shutter speed that’s 2 stops faster (1/15sec vs 1/60th sec) which can make the difference between being able to hand-hold your camera and not. Doing this, however, does not make the film any more sensitive to light; 400 ASA film is 400 ASA film, there’s no changing it. Rather it just underexposes the film. To compensate for the underexposure, we over-develop the film; we push process the film. Push processing doesn’t save these underexposed images and make them look like they were normally exposed. What it does, by over developing the film, is make the developer work harder on the shadow areas and squeeze every last drop of detail and texture out of them.

My Push Processing Experiment

I used Kodak’s Tri-X 400 and developed it in Kodak’s D-76 developer. The normal development time is 6 minutes and 45 seconds; pushing the film 2 stops called for a development time of 9 minutes and 30 seconds. I've shot and developed many rolls of Tri-X under normal exposure and development circumstances and get consistent results so I would have a good “control group” of images to compare against the pushed images. I rated and developed the 400 speed film at 1600. So in doing this I underexposed all the images by 2 stops and then overdeveloped them by 2 stops. I tried shooting in a variety of lighting situations from high-noon on the beach to 3AM in a dark alley.

If I recall correctly, this was shot right at noon, or shortly thereafter, last summer.

Shot sometime in the afternoon under dense tree cover.

Middle of night, back alley in Boston.

Another afternoon shot, 2PM maybe, without a cloud in the sky.

I think this was a mostly overcast day

The above gallery is the collection of pushed images, the gallery below is a collection of normally exposed and developed images for comparison. My initial impression is that I’m a huge fan of the results. I tend to like my images to be on the more contrast-y side and usually end up adding contrast to my images in post production. So it was nice to get higher contrast images right out of the camera which saved some editing time. I especially like the increase in perceived image sharpness that I wouldn’t get by processing the film normally and adding the contrast in post.

Looking at the two sets of images, you can see the normally processed images have much less contrast. There’s more detail and texture in the shadows and the highlight areas aren’t completely blown out to pure white. You can also see how much more pronounced the grain is in the pushed images than the normal ones, particularly in the sky and the shadows. The two images shot at night don’t have a huge difference in contrast but you can tell the highlight areas are much brighter in the pushed image than the normal one and you can really see the difference in the film grain. I thought the extra graininess would bother me but I actually don’t mind it. I would love to shoot Tri-X this way all time but shooting at ISO 1600 at high-noon on a cloudless day at the beach isn’t practical. All but two of my film cameras have a top shutter speed of 1/1000 which simply isn’t fast enough for that kind of shooting situation. I would have to have the aperture on the lens stopped all the way down to f/22 to keep the shutter speed at 1/1000 which takes away any creative control over the depth of field of the photo. Not all of my lenses will stop down as far as f/22 and my go-to walk-around camera tops out at a shutter speed of just 1/500. I was able to get the above shots because I was using my Maxxum 9 which tops out at a wild 1/12,000 and even then some of the shots maxed it out. As much as I’d love to carry my Maxxum 9 everyday, it’s a beast and not the best option for an everyday walk-around camera.

What are your thoughts? Can you see the difference, which do you prefer? Comment below.

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