Bread and Butter: The Layered Film Experiment

What I’m about to do is not the kind of stuff you’re supposed to do with film.

Then again, when in blue blazes have I done ANYTHING you’re supposed to do with film?

There is a very small but fascinating subset of the lo-fi photography movement.  It involves actually “layering” film – putting TWO rolls of film in a camera at the same time, exposing them at the same time, and then scanning them into a single picture – with the film sprocket holes and all.  If you do it correctly, you can assemble them together in a layered jigsaw puzzle pattern, with amazing artistic results.

I saw a few of these on various photo websites and thought they were absolutely breathtaking.  Unfortunately, I can’t repost them here, as the photographs’ owners have restricted the access in an effort to protect their copyrights.  But although I can’t post them here, you can see one of them by clicking here, and one of them here, and one of them here.

And yeah… I wanted to try this.

While the people who have “layered” film to create this effect have often used the same or similar films each time (i.e., two rolls of Kodak Portra 160VC or a couple of rolls of Ektachrome), I thought about what it would take if one were to use two different TYPES of film – or, in my first try, two different LOADINGS of film.

In order to do the experiment, I pulled out my Holga 120N, which takes 120 size “medium format” film.  I needed two empty 120 spools, and one of my rolls of 120 film had to be sacrificed for its spool.  Hey, stuff happens.

I took the Holga and my film into a dark room.  The darkest room in my house is a basement bathroom, which has the dual advantage of being an ersatz dark room and a place where I can contemplate my thoughts.  I took two rolls of 35mm film and taped the leaders to the takeup spool, allowing one film to overlap the other.  Then I turned out the lights.  It’s not completely pitch black, I had to cram a towel under the door to keep even the tiniest light leak out of the room.

I then pulled the 35mm films out of their storage cartridges, and once they were fully unrolled, I cut the films from their cartridges.  Anybody needs some empty 35mm cartridges, contact me.

I trimmed the end corners of the film and threaded them onto what would eventually be the new storage spool.  I couldn’t make two 35mm rolls lay flat together, since a 120 roll is not 70mm in width (actually it looks more like 60mm); so one roll will overlap the other (for purposes of blog description, the roll in the back – and will only be partially exposed – will be called the “bread”; and the layer on top – the one that will be fully exposed – will be called the “butter”).  I carefully re-spooled the film onto the takeup spool, and then loaded the film into the Holga.  I closed up the Holga, and taped all the seams on the Holga to minimize light leaks.  One of the little metal binding clips slipped off the camera; I tried re-applying it, but it would not stick.  Necessity is the mother of invention, so I used more black tape to hold the unit together.

One day of use, and already this Holga is falling apart at the seams.  This keeps up, I’m going to get me a Kiev-60 medium-format “Hasslebladski” from an eBay auction and this Holga will enjoy a quiet retirement on the shelf.

Only after I was sure I had fully accomplished my goal, I exited the dark room with my “prepared” Holga.

In my first experiment with layering film, I used two identical films, but one was inserted backwards so that the emulsion side was photographed first.  This causes a photographic effect called “redscale,” where the developed picture contains a red-orange-yellow cast.

So for my first “bread and butter” experiment…

The “Bread” film: Fujicolor 200, 24 exp, but put in the camera backwards.

The “Butter” film: Fujicolor 200, 24 exp, loaded properly.

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July 4th, 2010.  I went to some of my favorite shooting spots in the Capital District, including a place that had bedeviled me in the past – the painted Coca-Cola ghost sign on Broadway in Schenectady.

This one.

I couldn’t use a photo  I took of that sign in my “Ghost Signs of the Capital District” art book (it was a great photo, but Coca-Cola is fiercely protective of its trademark).  However, Coca-Cola couldn’t stop me from entering pictures of that sign in photography competitions.  Nyah.

I took several shots of the Coca-Cola sign with the prepared Holga; before my first shot, I advanced the film 42 clicks.  After each photo, I advanced the film 36 clicks forward.  The shots with the Holga were taken at a straight level horizon, then with the camera oriented at 90 degrees, 180 degrees and 270 degrees.

On my way home, I passed the Westgate Shopping Center.  I pulled out the Holga and took a couple of pictures of the iconic trapezoidal Westgate sign.  I hoped to use the Holga in some fireworks photographs that evening, but apparently what is supposed to be a 24-exposure roll of 35mm film actually comes out to about 10 exposures in a prepared Holga.

Now came the difficult part.  After the “experiment,” I had to go back into the dark room, close the door, wait for the room to become completely pitch black and my eyes to adjust to the darkness, untape the Holga, remove the film from the camera, and carefully place each 35mm roll into its own opaque (non-clear) canister.  To make absolutely sure that no light could get into the film canisters, I previously went to Ritz Camera and asked them for as many opaque film canisters as they had.  So that I wouldn’t lose the canisters in the dark, both empty opaque canisters were stored in the back pocket of my blue jeans.  All I needed to do, once the camera was open, was to pull a canister out of my back pocket, put the film inside, and seal the canister up.  Once I was absolutely sure that the each canister was air-tight and light-sealed, and that the film was safely transferred, I could exit the darkroom again.

I took the loose film to Ritz Camera, and gave them the following instructions.  Do not cut the negatives.  Please provide me with a contact sheet.  This is exposed film and it’s not in those 35mm loading cartridges, so please use a changing bag to transfer the film from the canisters.  One of the films was photographed to create a redscale effect, the orange-red cast on the film is intentional.  Please use EXTREME CARE in producing this product!

To their credit, Ritz Camera developed both rolls without any trouble.  A few hours after I dropped off the film, I arrived to a completed set of two negative strips of film and a contact sheet per roll.  I could see that although one of the pictures had a tiny light leak on it, the images came out rather well – as seen from the contact sheet.

In fact, the images themselves were larger than Ritz Camera could handle in terms of printing – their machines could not scan out to the edges to give me the “sprocket holes” for which I had hoped to include.  With that in mind, I took the negatives to McGreevey Photo Lab and asked if they could full-scan the negative slides into digital images.

No problem, the guy at McGreevey said.  It’ll be ready Thursday.

Once I got the digital images, I used my Corel Photo-Paint software to assemble the two images together.  While the “bread” image was a full picture, the “butter” image was a partial picture and contained the sprocket hole image of the “bread” image poking through.  This is some seriously cool stuff.

And this is what came out.

This is the Coca-Cola sign on Broadway in Schenectady. Photograph by Chuck Miller.

And this is the Westgate Shopping Center sign. Photograph by Chuck Miller.

I’m going to do more of these, but for now these are the first two of my “layered film” “bread and butter” experiment. I hope everyone enjoys.

And maybe, if everything aligns properly, some photography judges might like them as well.