In a recent post, I mentioned a sudden urge to get out with my Fuji X-T1 — my first digital outing in years after devoting so much time to pinhole photography. I’m still not entirely sure what caused this impulse. Midlife crisis? Paint fumes from decorating a small bathroom with poor ventilation? Who knows.
But Saturday came, and the night before I’d packed my bag with all the excitement of a child before a school trip. Batteries charged, SD card cleared, weather forecast obsessively checked — the lot.
I headed for a familiar spot on the South Downs. After a week of feeling a bit run-down, the Downs always do the trick — the fresh air, the open space, that quiet hum of wind that blows away the cobwebs. It was bitterly cold, but the light was beautiful. With my Fuji in hand, I wandered along the ridge, stopping here and there to capture whatever caught my eye.
Switching from pinhole to digital is a strange adjustment. With pinhole, it takes ages to really see an image — it’s slow, meditative, and forgiving of blur. Digital, on the other hand, is a bit like swapping a sketchbook for a mirror: suddenly everything’s sharp, instant, and slightly confronting. After so long in the pinhole mindset, I found myself fumbling a bit, second-guessing composition, and overthinking settings. But once I settled into it, I absolutely loved it.
I photographed some familiar subjects — the sheep, the trees, the gentle curves of the Downs — the usual suspects. But what really caught me was the ability to capture the streaks of light racing over the hills in the distance, using the 55-200mm Fuji telephoto. That’s something you simply can’t do with a pinhole. Show-off.
And I think that’s what I liked about it: a new balance. The simplicity and patience I’ve learned from years of pinhole photography meeting the flexibility of digital. It’s not one replacing the other — just a reminder that there’s room for both.
Life’s incredibly busy at the moment. Between decorating and full-time work, free time is in short supply. Adding film developing to the mix and scanning film sometimes tips things from “therapeutic” to “mildly stressful.” But digital offers a bit of breathing space — a chance to create without the wait, to enjoy the process without worrying about chemicals, drying racks, and scanning film.
So maybe this little digital detour isn’t such a bad thing after all. Maybe it’s exactly what I needed: a reminder that creativity doesn’t have to be one way or the other. Sometimes it’s just about getting out there, feeling the wind, and pressing the shutter — whichever one still works.
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