I often think about the status of the art of photography. Is it diminishing in value? Is it more ubiquitous, hence less important? Is it a means of expression that is less relevant than it once was? Has it been tarnished by its sheer omnipresence? Many of us who use this medium as a mode of expression probably wrestle with these questions. Yet, we continue to toil away at our craft, ignoring the change in the weather (metaphorically speaking.)

Daido Moriyama, a photographer I greatly admire, once released a body of work titled “Farewell Photography.” One could interpret the title as his own personal goodbye to the medium, and a look at the images from this series would certainly validate that opinion. Grainy, overly contrasty, scratched, water damaged and generally abused, the photographs felt like an extreme that could not be returned from. We know from history that Moriyama did indeed return from this precipice in his personal work, still photographing to this day. However, if we look at the title as a broader statement, I think its relevant to consider the idea of saying farewell to photography as something that still resonates today.

The image above is a film leader from a roll of 110 film I shot earlier this year. A simple, throwaway strip of film stock. But when I scanned it, I saw other things emerge. A sky, devoid of the brightness of the sun. Ab scorched landscape. The universe in a smattering of dust. An existential landscape. The end of straight, photographic representation? Is this even a photograph? It is a piece of film, exposed in a camera, and contextualized by my eye, my brain. Is it nothing or is it everything? Perhaps both? Is it a wrench thrown into the mechanisms of the forever churning, social media fueled, torrent of images? I’ll leave that for you to ponder.

I have long held a deep appreciation for Polaroid film and cameras. Even back in the 80s, I had a Polaroid Spectra as part of my image making arsenal. About five years ago, inspired by Patti Smith, I purchased a beautiful Polaroid 360 camera off of Ebay… with a sharp glass lens and Zeiss viewfinder. It’s a thing of beauty. And as of today, it’s a beautiful paperweight in my office. A couple of years a go, Fujifilm decided to stop making their peel-part film, the only instant film that would still work in this camera. Immediately prices on a 10-pack of film started to creep up. What once cost 8 or 9 bucks on Amazon slowly increased in cost. Today, a box can fetch well over $50 on Ebay (and since it’s not being made anymore, folks are buying up expired stock.)

I decided that once my stockpile was gone, I would retire the camera for good. That moment arrived this past week. I took the 360 down to the bosque, and shot off my last 10 sheets. The whole process was over in about 30 minutes. I didn’t belabor the ending, shooting freely, and quickly. Fittingly, the absolutely last exposure to come out of the camera got jammed, and as I jimmied the camera back open to release the sheet of film, I unintentionally fogged the last exposure. Upon peeling, it reveals a wonderful gradient of pale blue within its signature white frame.

Unlike the Impossible Project / Polaroid Originals resurrection of the other instant film formats, I seriously doubt we’ll see another company pick up the mantle and large scale produce this specific kind of instant film. Dying formats are a sad reality in the world of film photography. Thankfully, renewed interest in film photography in general has brought back other films, and I will happily continue to run rolls of 35mm or 120 film through the rest of my camera collection. Still, I will miss the excitement of taking a shot with my old 360, waiting those seconds before peeling apart the packet to reveal the one-of-a kind image I just captured. Sic transit gloria Polaroid.