I film what I want to remember.
People, places, light, noise. Super 8 slows everything down just enough for me to see what’s really there. I also shoot digitally and sometimes in 360°, when the moment calls for it. Most of these clips started as small experiments, but they’ve turned into my favorite way to notice life happening. I film a few Super 8 projects each year, using both color negative and reversal stocks like Ektachrome or Tri-X. I can develop and scan the film myself, though sometimes I send it to a lab when the stakes feel high. Handling film keeps the work honest. It smells like chemicals, takes patience, and always finds a way to remind you that control is an illusion. A single cartridge runs about three minutes. That limit is what keeps me coming back. You measure time differently when every second costs something. The process forces attention, which makes the results feel earned. Digital feels too clean. Film asks for risk. It can go wrong in a dozen ways, and that uncertainty keeps it alive. When it works, it carries a pulse that pixels can’t touch. I love the entire process, from loading the camera to seeing the first frame appear on the scan. It feels absurd to care this much about three minutes of light, but I do.
