Konica hasn’t made film (or branded it) in a decade. The 100′ of Konica Pro 160 I shot through a couple of years ago expired in 2009, and from what I’ve gathered, they stopped producing SRG-3200 a decade before that.
There was no date on the single roll of 120 that came in an Ollie’s Choice grab-bag type box from the FPP last summer, so I threw it in the fridge and put it in the back of my mind, with some dim thought to shoot it for Expired Film Day.
And then it was January 20… 1/20… 120 Day! And I thought “why not shoot that roll of Konica 3200?” And so that’s what I did…
I had virtually no hopes for this film. I mean, I expected some sort of image, but I wasn’t trying to shoot for a project or anything. And good thing too, as I was in a really awful mental state on 1/20: furiously angry—actually, “livid” would be a better descriptor—frustrated, acutely aware of just how completely and totally alone I am.*
I had a lunch date with my dad, and in preparation, I went for a long, meandering drive through the mid-cities (Euless, Colleyville, Southlake) and wound up in Keller just as the sun was really coming up. I stopped and shot the side of a warehouse.
I’m proud of myself for actually stopping and getting out of the car for these. Go me.
After that, I picked up some donuts and went to the park where Granddad and I used to feed the ducks when I was small. It was cold, but I walked a good ways, pretty much the whole length of the park. (In addition to the Holga, I had the Yashica-Mat 124 along, with a roll of fresh Kodak Portra 160. I’ll share the pictures from that roll soon.)
I left Keller and drove up to Denton, took a quick walk through Recycled Records, where I picked up a copy of Art Gore’s Speak Softly to the Echoes (expect a review at some point), got a bit lost on the way out of town, and then headed back down to Dad’s place.
I took one picture out the window on the way out of Denton.
Dad and I went for lunch and had a really pleasant conversation, then took a drive past the old house where Dad grew up, and where I was a small child. I didn’t get a picture and will have to go back by: it’s been cleaned up quite a bit, repainted (more like it was when we lived there) and with some new trees in the front yard.
We stopped on the way back to pick up something for Dad’s wife, and I took a few pictures around the strip mall.
After that, I went home for a bit, and then took myself for another meandering drive to finish off the rolls for 120 day, and because I was still way too enraged to sit around at home.
So that was the shooting part, now to the film itself.
The film came out of the developing tank with an almost uniform, magenta base fog that nearly obscured the images, and it took some work to tease image out. I had to remove the color correction gels from the flash and blast them at full power with the SB-28, and still had to tease out a stop in Capture One.
As you can see, there are color shifts, pronounced grain, and some strange slanted lines running more or less horizontally across many of the frames. I used the swizzle stick method during developing, and that may have contributed. The Portra 160 came out fine, but it was on the bottom of the tank, and maybe got more agitation? But I expect most of the “issues” are due to the age and (unknown) storage conditions.
Despite that, I think the SRG-3200 is perfectly usable. The color is interesting and I like the grain. You don’t see much color negative film with such a pronounced grain structure much these days.
If I had another roll or two to shoot, I might try one in the Zero Image 69 and double or quadruple the suggested times, and maybe shoot another in the Yashica-Mat at 125 or 200, or maybe even bracket exposures. It could be fun.
Should you come across a roll, don’t hesitate to shoot it. Also don’t expect much from it… the less you expect, the happier you’ll be with whatever results you get! Expectation management FTW.
*I’m of course not alone: I’m happily married and live with my darling, adorable wife and one of her sons. But at present, there is no one in my life that both understands the feelings I express and cares one whit about such feelings. My wife cares, but doesn’t understand. Samie (her son) might understand, partly, but doesn’t care. My Mom and Dad care, but don’t really understand (and I wouldn’t talk to them anyway). And of the other people in my life, some might understand, others might care, but really, I’m wholly alone, and it’s painful. I teared up just typing this.