It was my day off, November 7th; I was home alone and had nothing going on. I decided to take an impromptu visit to the Curious Book Shop, the same one mentioned in my “book reviews.” I aired up my front tire, the one that is always flat, and pedaled down past Harrison Street in East Lansing, Michigan. With the weather cool enough for a light jacket but warm enough for a bike commute, I embraced the sun’s extra warmth and the air’s cool touch with eagerness.

I find that it’s not always easy to take advantage of a beautiful day, especially when one is depressed. Today would pale in comparison to yesterday, I thought, as I spent that yesterday getting to know my 70-year-old neighbor in the company of a chess board and an exclusive ride-along on one of his trikes. What a beautiful day off I had. How would I then spend the next day?

The next day came, and I decided to ride to the bookshop to do some retail therapy, which is arguably cheaper than real therapy, but much less effective I would imagine. I still don’t exactly know how to get to the Curious Book Shop, and I am thankful I didn’t. I knew a general direction. I decided to venture through the neighborhood instead of taking the main roads, looking for a scenic shortcut that may or may not exist.

Where I found myself was in the midst of a quiet and stunningly picturesque-late-autumnal-Midwest-neighborhood. I couldn’t believe how beautiful everything was: the trees, although past their pretty peak foliage, were still shedding gold-leafed leaves and flickers of the richest crimson anyone can find in nature.

My first real autumn left me breathless, as it went as fast as it came. I will miss the mornings waking up with a tree’s warm red glow flooding my kitchen and into my bedroom.

The houses in this neighborhood attracted my attention. The topology of the hilly neighborhood, situated in such an un-hilly city, made for satisfying perspectives. The architecture of the homes was diverse– each house beckoned a glance, and each house was almost intricately unique. The homes were in relation and harmony with one another, much like those who inhabit them.

In my moment of pure awe, I cranked up my headphones and sped down the inclined streets, taking in the sights, wind, and sun. The neighborhood was still, almost breathless but never lifeless. I said to myself: What a photogenic neighborhood! I should shoot some film around here someday.

Just a week before then, I bought a new roll of Portra 400, now owning some for the first time in months. At first, I closed down the thought of “wasting” the Portra on something like this. But this was no waste. In fact, there was basically no reason I shouldn’t use up a roll of the best film around today. I had a perfect day off, existing nowhere else but in the middle of a quiet, enchanting urban enclave.

With some personal convincing, checks on the time, and gauges of the weather, I abandoned the bookshop plans and darted home for my camera. I was not happy about having to turn around and bike all the way home, but I was a sucker to practice my photography and enjoy the weather. I made it home, stumbled around to get my camera ready and set back out hoping the sunlight would stay hanging above unabridged by cloud cover. It did.

I made it back to the neighborhood, this time entering from the south. With an aim to work my way through every street, I wanted to study every house through a lens, whether the lens is a retina or a piece of glass. I debated whether to stay on my bike for easy and fast transportation, but after a few attempts at a quick stop-and-shoot, I realized it would be best to walk. I chained my bike to a “No Parking Along Street” sign and began my walk.

Best to walk for two reasons: safety and pace. Pace is what I wanted to focus on. There in my control were 36 shots, maybe a good two hours of sunlight, and plenty of houses to gawk at. Out of hundreds of houses I had to choose 36 and accept that I would only be happy with half of those photographs.

This blog post, article, journal, or whatever you would call it is the collection of photos I am proud of, or at least want to share with my audience, whoever you may be.

The photo of the blue and orange house was one of the first houses I shot. It was a couple of houses down from the one above with the salmon-colored door. Not many neighborhoods have color where I am from. The best you’ll get is a colored front door or the patriotic spread of red, white, and blue on a proudly displayed American or Texan flag. But elsewhere, especially in the North, people add a little charm to their homes, rightfully and aesthetically so.

But even when these expressive domiciles aren’t actually colorful, they are still uniquely appealing, as exemplified above. I count ten windows on the house just from this perspective alone. So much is going on with the design in this house that I could not begin to think what it looks like on the inside. The neighborhood is full of these types of houses, the ones that you can’t exactly describe in just a few words or phrases.

Texture plays a big role in the charm of these homes as well. Various types of brick, shingle, and wood paneling create a rich mix of sophisticated house design and neighborhood appeal. Just take a look at the house above with the mixture of all three brick, shingle, and wood paneling. Or look at the next few photos to see how different houses can be texturized.

At this point, I was euphoric about taking photos of the neighborhood. The camera I use, a Nikon F3, is a pleasure to use and is equipped with a highly capable 50mm 1.8f lens. I brought along a polarizing filter to limit the amount of reflection I get coming off windows. I found myself spinning around the polarizer, deciding on whether I should embrace or forgo the reflection. Most of the time, I liked eliminating the reflections, as seen in this next photo.

Notice how the sunroom’s windows are cloudy. The windows are reflecting direct sunlight, and this would have caused me to meter the exposure a bit under than what I would have liked. In the end, the metering was perfect, but if given the chance, I would redo this shot, and focus more on the sunroom– as it is another unique characteristic of the neighborhood’s architecture.

After contracting a sort of tunnel vision for houses, I wanted to look at the neighborhood in other aspects. This venture fell short but led to a funny interaction with a young fellow trying to sell books for his college fund.

Upon snapping this photo above, trying to break the monotony of house photography, I noticed someone walking in the distance, in the frame of my photo. I feared both that I captured him in my photo or of any confrontation that may ensue when I walked past.

Instead, I was greeted with “Did you get a good photo of me?” To which I awkwardly replied: “Honestly I didn’t see you until I put down my camera.” I offered to take a photo of him for fun, and he initially agreed, but then politely changed his mind as he was “on the job, technically.” He then offered me his books for sale, saying it’d help put him through college, which reminded me of my original quest: buying a book. Regrettably disinterested as I was, I was glad to be able to talk to someone who had an interest in what I was doing. Most other passers-by gave me a double glance of worry and suspicion. I accepted that the unwelcomeness was the plight of practicing photography in public.

But I never felt truly unwelcomed, just misunderstood. I decided that I could handle any mother hecklers that came my way and decided to keep on. After laughing off the interaction with the traveling bookkeep, I pressed on, already about halfway through my roll.

In the practice of shooting film, repeat mistakes are very common. Some are more dire, most are unfortunate, and some can be opportunistic. For film photography, you are limited to 36 shots per roll. When you carry just one roll, a fancy expensive one at that, every shot you take matters to you, your results, and if you are like me, your wallet. (A shot of Portra costs me almost $1 per. $15 for the roll and $15 for development + scanning with just 36 shots).

Walking gingerly, I thought to myself: is my shutter ready to fire? There were a couple of methods I could have used to safely check, but I went with the overconfident one: pressing the damn button. I snapped a photo of utterly nothing, presumably of the ground as I was walking with the camera in hand at my side. I decided I could simply just do a double exposure and see what comes of it. Here is the product of that:

Not too terrible, huh? It’s not a shot I am necessarily proud of for taking, but instead, it’s a shot I am proud of for salvaging. I could have parted ways and moved on with the frame, but I decided to see where the double exposure would take me. Instead of a throwaway photo, I was lucky enough to score something to write home about.

I still could not believe how beautiful the day was holding. It was neither too cold nor too warm, so perfect Goldilocks would stamp seal her approval. Front doors became a focus for me– they are the easiest to frame. I was bending around trees and measuring through my camera’s viewfinder to try and capture some geometrically appropriate shots.

Framing and composition are hard for a beginner like me, especially when shooting handheld. Some shots fall just a tad short of my satisfaction just because the framing is a bit off. As much as Adobe Lightroom can crop and straighten, it cannot see or add what’s not there, as exemplified by one of my biggest misses but yet favorite shots from the roll:

The bottom line for this shot: I wish I had stepped only five feet further back. I could have included more of the house and sidewalk, lessened my presence in the reflection, and captured that pumpkin in the whole frame. I think I was worried about catching too much of the alleyway that I constricted my frame too much. Trial and error are all part of the learning.

Down the road a bit, I stumbled upon a house built into a grassy hill. The house has a unique shape, but what interested me was the dew-glazed turf that surrounded the home like a miniature lush forest.

This was the most beautiful grass I had ever seen. I knew I wanted to make something special of it. The grass took up two shots of my roll (almost two whole dollars). Regrettably, only one of two shots are worth sharing here. This is the noteworthy one, and one I am happy with:

Catching the sun at the angle with the lush green earth, red shrubs, and golden leaves made for a promising photo. It isn’t exactly how I thought it would turn out, but it ain’t damn half bad. I continued my walk, trying to capture homes of interest.

I circled back through the neighborhood after ending up on the main road again, out of my element. I noticed kids were starting to get off school and people were starting to come home. Onwards to the Curious Book Shop, I ventured. Arriving, I parked my bike, walked in, and greeted Ed sitting in his chair, reciting his scripted welcome: “Hello! The books on the shelves are priced, everything else I am working on.” I did not want to spend too much time looking about as I would take hours. I even pondered to offer Ed a portrait but was too nervous.

His front desk usually has some good picks, I checked there. The autographed Kurt Vonnegut book that I had been hoping to score once I had enough was gone. However, unfortunately, I understood that I missed my chance and instead picked up a copy of We Bombed in New Haven, a play by Joseph Heller. I left the bookshop with mixed feelings, but mostly okay with completing my original quest of the day.

I made my way away from the picturesque neighborhood and across to campus, a safe place for me to finish the roll. In what I thought would be a last few throwaway frames turned out to almost cost me the entire roll by a stupid mistake. But as you can see, the photos exist and are all okay.

By this point, I was running out of sunlight and places to shoot. I had already shot on campus earlier this year and did not want to duplicate shots. But a couple of photos above and below turned out okay.

I distinctly remember taking the photo above because I recall pacing and ducking with my camera trying to capture the best angle. I loved the red on the tree and the low-hanging sun, but the execution fell short. I am nonetheless happy with the photo.

That was shot 34. My camera was saying 35 on the shutter counter. Last frame. I was still riding the high of it being such a nice day. The area was running out of photogenic subjects, but I wanted to try and take one more photo. I felt some tension in the film advance lever, but boneheadedly decided I could probably squeeze out one more frame.

I snapped the photo above as frame 35. Eager to take one last photo, I mistakenly pushed the lever to its limits, heard a snap, and felt the film inside the camera give way to the tension. I had either ripped the film from the canister, destroying it essentially, or destroyed my camera. I shot the unlikely 36th frame at some trees, the same ones in which you can see double exposed over frame 35. The film advanced, but not by much.

I had no idea if the film was totally lost or if the shot was successful. I couldn’t rewind the film. Panicked, I rushed home to try and figure it out there. I thought I could maybe use my motor drive attachment to rewind the film– that was my last hope and best idea. I got home and attempted to engage the film rewind button and lever, but no luck. A whole day’s worth of shooting the special Portra was lost. All the euphoria of my day off was sapped, and I was distraught.

I made a last-ditch effort to advance the film. To no surprise, it didn’t. I then fired the shutter and was met with a promising click. At that point, I was able to press the rewind button and manually spool my film back into its canister. I reluctantly popped open the back and found that the film was indeed safe inside the canister. I still don’t know if my camera is okay. I would guess that it is.

A day filled with the highest highs and the near-lowest lows can be exhausting. I went from being on top of the world to being empty-handed to being relieved. Although it was a day spent alone, I was able to enjoy it as much as the eventful one before.

I received these photos from the lab a week later.

The photo below is one of my favorites from the roll. I like how clear the reflection is and how the red brick and green foliage give me a frame for a window selfie. How stereotypical!

I was excited all week to get the photos back. Overall, I am very happy with them and relieved I was able to have them for this blog post. If you are still reading, I thank you for staying around long enough. I plan to do this more, so be on the lookout for more posts. I encourage you to ask your parents if they have any old cameras lying around, buy a roll, and get shooting. Your wallet may regret it, but you won’t, ever. Go out and shoot some film!