The Grain Principle
He shot me an alarmed “Oh God, Lin’s acting psycho” look.
“I don’t do grain,” he said. “You know that. I don’t shoot film anyway.”
“Well, can’t you add it afterwards?” I retorted.
He looked both horrified and rather offended. The very same look which he gave me yesterday when I asked him to scrape up something smelly and unsavoury from the carpet.
I should perhaps now explain that we’re rather opposed on The Grain Principle.
Rich really dislikes grain. Many moons ago, I remember he used a very low grain film and still used to complain bitterly about the lack of detail in the print. When digital came along he was over the moon. He likes pictures to look incredibly smooth and ultra-sharp. He doesn't like noise and grain, and he's passionate about pixels, the more the merrier. He wants the captured image to look the way he sees it with his eyes and he prefers complete control over the photograph. I can understand this. After all, he’s a scientist so naturally he likes exactness, precision and perfection. He says that if you need grain to make the photograph work, then it’s a waste of time. “Grain is not a mood-enhancer. It is an artefact of the chemical process.”
In complete contrast, over time I’ve learned to love grain, and I disagree with Rich in that I really do think it adds mood. A certain look, a certain style. It has a sexy, arty flavour which is unique and rather cool. Rich understands this, but he says it’s just not to his personal taste. He also thinks that the reason the general public like grainy or noisy photos nowadays is because they think the images were shot on film, and somehow this is perceived as being more professional and artistic. With the growth of digital, he believes grain is being marginalized, which is why it is doubly trendy for art and fashion photography (UK Vogue often has so much grain that you can hardly see the clothes, but the images sure look uber-cool.)
With the cessation of Polaroid, Rich now reckons that in five years time, film will only be used by hobbyists and those that have a dedicated interest in shooting film. He tells me that nowadays nearly all the high-end professional photographers shoot digitally. Digital photography is the future. Film and grain are ancient history. You can fight it all you want, but that’s the truth. So why cling to the past?
All this makes for a very persuasive argument over morning coffee of course, but it doesn’t solve my desire for a grainy portrait, no matter how prehistoric the concept may be.
So I look a leaf out of my four year old daughter’s book, and decided to be a diva. “I don't care. I wanna look grainy. I want a photograph, as is, no photoshop at all, just the real me, but grainy.
He gave me a slightly despairing look. “You won’t like it, you know. You’re feeling tired, radiated, really ill. It’s not going to make you look as sexy as you'd like, and then you'll blame me.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to look sexy, I just want a portrait of me as I really am. A snapshot in time, a record of this point in my life. I know it’s going to be un-pretty. And I don’t care if I don’t like it. I’ve just got to do it.”

So here it is.
He was wrong. I love it.
Yes I know it’s not real grain. It’s post-processed digitally added noise, and it will make all you purist film photographers out there shudder. Nevertheless, I don’t think it came out too badly at all. No fancy studio posing, no sexiness, no Photoshop. Just me on my favourite sofa. It’s who I am. And it’s probably the only photograph you’re ever going to see of my floppy old boobs, so make the most of it.



