Gear for Rigging Romance

"The faded, grainy color of a film camera can warp even something from today into a memory from ten years ago. I call it 'romance rigging.'"

The first essay in our first issue comes from Kim Hyun-a, who plans and writes for 5ft magazine. She names the film camera as the tool that turns ordinary days romantic. Then, at an unhurried pace that matches that grainy color, she traces how the camera came to touch her own family's story. Here is a preview.

Picture a few scenes from a short film

A tacky sign that just wants you to know it's there. Leaves that fell on the sidewalk tiles when their time came. Power lines strung every which way, doing their job. The obvious things we pass every day without really seeing them tell the story of ordinary days. But there is one item that can make those unremarkable daily scenes romantic: the film camera.

Now lay a film filter over the scene you just pictured. The mood that appears as if by magic makes it feel like some deep meaning must be hiding in there.

The faded, grainy color of a film camera can warp even something from today into a memory from ten years ago. I call it 'romance rigging.'

Chasing romance because we've run out of it

These days we imitate an old analog feeling that people lived with back then without ever knowing it was romantic. Film cameras, of course. Go to any spot rumored to be hip and you'll find chunky old CRT TVs and vintage computers set out as decor, and LPs spinning on turntables became the cool thing for quite a while.

When I was in middle school, film cameras weren't special. If anything, a 5-megapixel camera on your phone was something to brag about. Korea's technology moved absurdly fast. A year later that little camera had 20 megapixels, ten years later 50, and now it boasts 200 megapixels and has caught up with most professional cameras.

As the pictures got sharper, so did the world. An overheated, competitive society and capitalism gave us plenty to enjoy, but romance disappeared. People worn down from chasing reality lost their breathing room, and started to feel they needed romance.

A tool that makes everyday life look good

We need romance, but it isn't easy to find in daily life. So it helps to have an 'item' that can rig some up. Noise-canceling headphones that turn a moment into a movie scene filled with nothing but the soundtrack, say. Or a film camera that makes everyday life look good.

With a high-resolution smartphone you shoot and delete with one finger. A film camera is different: once you take the shot, there's no undoing it, so you have no choice but to think about your subject. Trying not to waste a single frame of a 36-exposure roll, searching for something meaningful to put in each one: how romantic is that, all by itself?

One frame of the subway I take to work every morning. One frame of coffee at the café I stop by every lunch break. One frame of friends laughing over drinks after work. Print a roll filled up like that, and thanks to its washed-out color and its calm, pressed-down mood, you get to watch the magic of your plain everyday life being polished into a romantic memory.

The camera my mom handed down

I have a film camera too. It's not a professional model, and the colors aren't all that pretty. It's clunky-looking and on the heavy side, too. And I love it.

When film cameras were all the rage and I was wondering whether to buy one, my mom handed me hers. 'Do you know how much I paid for that back then?' In those words I thought I could hear how badly she had wanted to capture her kids looking their best.

The mom and dad who photographed little Hyun-a riding in her stroller on outings, or crying through a punishment, were younger than I am now. Only a few photos remain of the two of them from the years they spent their youth with small kids, and the camera passed to me.

Now that their kids are grown and their days are uneventful, I had a chance to make them some of the romance they had lost. So a few days ago, I called them.

The rest of the story is in the magazine

We'd suggest meeting the last scene of this essay on paper. What Kim Hyun-a said to her parents, and the scenes from a short film she pictures. The final paragraph, with its faded, grainy film mood, appears only in the magazine.

• ● A family history tied to Samsung's 1990 'Handyman Half Camera'
• ● A moment of romance that came back to two parents
• ● Another essay by Kim Hyun-a, 〈Why Nothing Happening Makes Me Happy〉 (별일없음에 행복을 느끼는 이유)