In English class, we created Personal Essays. This is to practice using metaphors and descriptive language to simulate vivid images in the readers' minds. To further shape those images, we took our essay from English and created a podcast in Adobe Flash with images and a voice over.

The Beauty of Film is the Grain

I take a look around in this imaginary world. It is an aged yellow, spotted with clouds of a darker shade. In the corner of my eye, I see scribbles. Up close, I find they do not appear anything more than simple strokes, snaking their way across the paper. Now I take a step back, my eyes stolen by an ancient oak tree that takes the place of the many worms that I saw a minute ago. Now I am back in reality, but that same oak tree is still in front of me, as sharp as a well-dressed man. Its unique grain holds strong as it takes the burdened weight of the branches and adds texture. This tree is similar to film with its grain. Similar to the grain of wood, a film’s grain strengthens the image and gives it texture.

Click! The shutter has released as I depress the button. This is a moment, a piece of history entrapped in a single frame, of a single roll of film. Film? Who uses film anymore? These are questions I ask myself as I walk to my next subject. The focus of my imagination this time is pointed towards a small cluster of flowers. Vibrant and beautiful, they are a deep fuchsia with thick veins running from the stem to the tip of each pedal. With every vein, a maze of little lines diffuse throughout the flower, making an intricate circuit that captivates me. Click! I’ve shot another photo, pointing the lens dead center at this small cluster of gems. I take a step back, ready to take another photo, but as I struggle to advance the film, I realize that I have come to the end of the roll. “Damn it!” I say, as I realize that, again, I have miscalculated how many pictures I was able to take. My inefficiency has preempted yet another opportunity to get a photograph of a flower. This did not faze me, though, for at the end of the roll of film I get to develop the exposed emulsion.

Click! I’m now in total darkness, I can see nothing except for a dangling light emitting a warm amber glow. A draft runs through this small room, making breath in the stench of the chemicals sitting in the sink in front of me. My fingers grasp a canvas which I expose to a terrain of black and white, intertwined between one and another. A poison has birthed beauty, as these dancing stars on a white sky float to the top. It makes it to the top, only to be immersed in the neighboring solution as it develops into a picture. Those few flowers that I saw before have now been reanimated by little grains that compose a greater creation. Each little crystal, some dark, some light, come together and bring to life a split second of time, a mere memory that has been lost outside of the grain of the picture.

Many people that I have met believe that these little clusters of kernels take away from an image, but I disagree with them. The grain of film has inspired me in many ways, whether it has been through its individuality or the unity it creates, and gives me a separate, unrivaled attitude to be myself. For this, I believe that a film’s grain is beautiful, and something that should be appreciated instead of dismissed as destructive.