...Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world's a sunny day, Oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away...
They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world's a sunny day, Oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away...
Perhaps by now you've heard about the report in The New York Times article about the final processing run of Kodachrome in Kansas. Kansas?? Kodak announced last June they will no longer be producing the film, and it seemed to be done with very little fanfare. Now, however, no matter how much of it you may have stockpiled, it will no longer be able to be developed– anywhere! A poignant moment in time and perhaps even a little morbid. Next to Polaroid, Kodachrome was the photographic film icon for generations of photographers, especially my own, which came of age in the mid 1980's. Other than perhaps a new lens for the Nikon, there were very few things more exciting for a young photo assistant than to go to the nearest photo supply house to purchase a half dozen or so rolls of Kodachrome. If there happened to be a little overtime in what was usually a miserably low paycheck ($130 a week before taxes) a brick (20 rolls!!) of Kodachrome was occasionally bought, much to the envy of one's photo assistant colleagues.
At the time very few photo labs actually developed the film. For the large part it needed to be sent to Kodak, which was a real drag. The one lab many photographers in NYC used for Kodachrome processing was NY Film Works on Broadway and 22nd Street. I believe it's been closed for quite a while now, but twenty years ago at any given time there could be a dozen photographers standing shoulder to shoulder, hunched over a very long bank of light boxes, peering through loupes in hope to find the image or images that would launch them to be the next Ernst Haas or Pete Turner. Every so often you could spot someone holding a freshly developed box of slides up to their nose and take in that very specific Kodachrome scent, almost as though they were imprinting a memory in anticipation of this past week.
At the time very few photo labs actually developed the film. For the large part it needed to be sent to Kodak, which was a real drag. The one lab many photographers in NYC used for Kodachrome processing was NY Film Works on Broadway and 22nd Street. I believe it's been closed for quite a while now, but twenty years ago at any given time there could be a dozen photographers standing shoulder to shoulder, hunched over a very long bank of light boxes, peering through loupes in hope to find the image or images that would launch them to be the next Ernst Haas or Pete Turner. Every so often you could spot someone holding a freshly developed box of slides up to their nose and take in that very specific Kodachrome scent, almost as though they were imprinting a memory in anticipation of this past week.
The qualities of Kodachrome were very special. I favored the 64 speed over the 25 speed. Just slightly underexposed, the film would render rich, vivid, near surreal colors. It was not a film one would choose if more neutral tones were desired, so it was hardly used for product photography where more "realistic" colors were needed. That's why God... ahem...Kodak made Ektachrome.
Towards the late eighties and early nineties Kodachrome started to be overshadowed by newer, faster, and cheaper films. Films such as Fuji's Velvia and a newer generation of Ektachrome films, which yielded more consistent results and used the much easier E-6 processing as compared to the complicated K-14 processing of Kodachrome. Many photographers held on, but it was clear Kodachrome's days were numbered.
After reading the Times article, I searched my basement for some of those old square plastic boxes of slides, and started to think of all those photographers standing in the window of NY Film Works. I couldn't help holding a box up to my nose– and what do you know... it smelled like 1986!
