Taiwan Streets Unfolded
Ruifang Station, Aug 2024
Taipei feels like a VHS tape rewound—a cyberpunk past that never quite became the future.
Film was the only way to truly capture Taiwan’s blend of history and modernity. The temple surrounded by skyscrapers, pilgrims passing through digital chaos, the stillness in a tea house—all of it demanded presence and to slow down. I’ve always embraced the imperfections of film photography, and Taiwan seemed the perfect place for this. The small grain, the light leaks, the blurry edges—these are not flaws but reminders that we are all human, that nothing is ever perfect. There’s a stigma today that everything must be flawless, and digitally polished, but I’ve come to realize that the beauty of life, much like film, lies in its rawness.
As I moved through Taipei, I felt like I was walking through two worlds at once. The contrast was everywhere: traditional calligraphy and ancient temples standing side by side with the neon buzz of the city, high-tech subways speeding beneath centuries-old shrines. I wasn’t just taking pictures; I was immersing myself in the experience.
To focus on authenticity, I decided to keep things simple—just my Leica MP, a 35mm lens, available light, and a few rolls of film. It felt like a meditation. In today’s world of endless digital distractions, it’s easy to forget the value of slowing down, of being present. With every click of the shutter, I had to commit. No machine-gun photography. Just deliberate, mindful moments.
Think before you shoot. With digital, I often discard images at a much higher rate. But with film, almost two-thirds of the frames felt worth keeping. It’s a reminder that taking my time and limiting myself, can help me spark creativity.
Note to self: Ignore the rush of the world. You’re onto something by pursuing authenticity in the moments that matter. Be bold! The time to set up a film lab at home has come.
