Vasily photographs everyday life, familiar streets and journeys with a camera close at hand. In this written interview, he reflects on infrared photography, reversal film and learning from unexpected results.
How did photography enter your life, and what place does it have today?
My parents photographed me on film when I was a child, and I still have family albums filled with pictures from childhood trips and events. When I was at school, I got my first camera phone — a Sony Ericsson W810i — and that was probably where it all began. I started photographing my classmates, school celebrations and everyday events. Around the same time, Instagram appeared, making it possible to share photographs with other people.
At university, I got my first serious camera, a Canon 1D Mark II. That was when I discovered that photography could also be a way to earn a living. I worked as a documentary and event photographer, covering everything from university events to city demonstrations and open-air concerts.
At the same time, I loved documenting my own life. The only problem was that carrying a heavy DSLR everywhere was, quite literally, a burden. I still took it with me, but in 2016 I decided to try film photography in search of a different experience. My first film camera was a Soviet Zorki-1 with an Industar-22 lens and a light leak caused by damaged shutter curtains.
And that's how it all started. I hardly do commercial photography anymore and now work in an office, but I always have a film camera with me. It helps me document the people and events in my life. I'm rarely without a camera.
Which people, places or situations do you keep returning to with a camera? Please share one example.
I enjoy looking for unusual perspectives on familiar streets — places I walk through every day, around my home, in a nearby park or close to my workplace.
I'm always looking forward to bright, sunny days with clear skies because I love infrared photography. It offers an unfamiliar way of looking at familiar things: the infrared spectrum is invisible to the human eye, so even an ordinary street or landscape can look completely different.
Choose a photograph that matters to you. What was happening when you made it, and what remains outside the frame?
My wife, our dog Sanya and I travelled 9,000 kilometres from Moscow to the Russian Far East for a seaside holiday. After a week on the road, we spent three days in a rented apartment in Vladivostok.
We checked in, had a rest, left our dog at home and went out to explore the city. While we were away, Sanya completely demolished the apartment: he chewed a hole in a doorframe all the way down to the concrete and destroyed about a metre and a half of the skirting board. He had never done anything like that before!
We spent the entire following day trying to repair the damage, taking Sanya everywhere with us. Then, a day later, on a beautiful rocky beach on Russky Island, I proposed to my wife.
How do your camera, film or other tools affect the way you work?
I've tried quite a lot of different equipment: late electronic SLRs, modular medium-format cameras and even a 4×5 folding camera. Eventually, I settled on a Leica rangefinder because it's comfortable to carry around all the time. It's relatively compact, reliable and mechanical. No automation makes decisions for me about exposure settings, and I've learned to focus quickly. And, of course, it's beautiful.
Recently, I bought a slide projector and started shooting reversal film much more often. Colour reversal film is relatively straightforward: I use Ektachrome, Provia and Velvia, although I've also experimented with reversing Kodak Aerocolor IV.
Black-and-white reversal photography is much more interesting. I shoot a lot of Tasma, a Russian technical aerial film. It's quite flexible when it comes to processing as a negative, and its clear base makes it particularly suitable for reversal processing.
Agfa Aviphot has roughly similar characteristics, but it's also sensitive to infrared light. These films have become the main part of my current setup, although there's plenty of other film waiting in my fridge.
Has a mistake, unexpected result or older image changed how you see your work?
Film photography always has the potential to surprise you. One of my favourite accidents happened with Lomochrome Purple in a Canonet camera. Halfway through the roll, the camera jammed and accidentally exposed several frames on top of one another. Naturally, I only discovered what had happened after developing the film.
To my surprise, the image of a person walking through the middle frame fitted perfectly into the overlapping composition of the neighbouring frames.
More generally, different kinds of mistakes — from severe underexposure to processing errors — have taught me to accept unexpected results and not get too upset when things go wrong. At the same time, they've made me much more careful about shooting and developing film. I try not to make the same mistakes twice. Sometimes an accident teaches you how to make better photographs in the future.
How do you choose which photographs to share, and how do they become a story or a series?
I often take quite a lot of photographs in one location, and they naturally form small series. However, I usually try to select the single strongest image, either compositionally or in terms of its subject, and share that one.
I feel that when it comes to personal documentary photography, viewers aren't necessarily interested in looking through dozens of similar frames. One strong photograph can be enough to catch someone's attention.
What would you like to explore next, and what would you like people to understand about your photography?
I'm a curious person, so above all, I'd like to keep exploring the world around me. The camera will always be in my hands, wherever I go.
I'm interested in new places and countries, unusual locations and environments that already have stories of their own. Through my photographs, I try to share these places and stories with other people.
It may sound a little philosophical, but ultimately, I'd like to make photographs that make someone stop and think: "Oh, that's unusual. That's cool. That's interesting."
About Vasily
Vasily is a Moscow-based urban and transport data analyst and film photographer.
Written interview for Developing Stories, Berlin Photo Studio. Find Vasily on Lomography and Telegram.
