Polaroid photography, for me, has been a freeing experience.
As far as the professional and hobby realms are concerned, photography is an insanely saturated space. Everyone and their mother has the capability to shoot high-quality, well-exposed, sharp photos right from their pocket.
As an enthusiast—and someone who has spent a decent amount of money on the hobby—it’s frustrating when Grandma accidentally snaps a masterpiece on her iPhone, posts it to Facebook, and gets 300 likes.
Alongside this, social media is overflowing with a million talented artists, including many people close to you whose artwork is fabulous!
I struggle with this. I was a fairly avid young photographer for about 10 years, but constantly seeing other people’s better work made me jealous and overly critical of my own. I wasn’t shooting for money outside of one paid wedding and a few senior photo shoots—95% of what I did was for pleasure. Even still, I couldn’t feel enthusiastic about the process or my results without feeling like I was simply “no good.”
From 2010 to 2017, I was an avid shooter and made a lot of artwork I felt very proud of. From 2018 to 2024, I took my camera out maybe three or four times. I didn’t replace the hobby or do anything productive—I simply spent more time on my phone or staring at the TV. The media juggernauts won—that’s what they want. They want cheap content for their platforms from 5% of the population and the other 95% to just stare.
Enter Imperfection
Why is Polaroid, as I claim it to be, “freeing”? Well, to put it simply, Polaroid looks like crap.
Okay, not really—but in comparison to anything digital post-2006, or even its direct rival Instax, Polaroid is starkly different. Most of their cameras have plastic lenses versus the standard glass lenses on your average camera. The chemical makeup of Polaroid film is still in its infancy—photos are washed out, unfocused, underdeveloped, etc. Maybe one out of every ten photos comes out good, and for 95% of Polaroid shooters, this is almost unavoidable! There is so little you can do to guarantee consistent results—and that’s the appeal for me.
You must accept failure with Polaroid. You must accept mediocrity. You must accept that you may likely miss the moment.
I love Polaroid because of these things, not in spite of them. Life isn’t in HD anyway—that’s overrated.
This has helped me accept imperfection in digital as well, and I’ve been shooting more than I have in years because of it.
I’m not the only one buying into this trend, either. I’m seeing more and more “professionals” intentionally embracing blur and imperfection in their digital photography. 35mm film is making a huge comeback as well.
I can’t help but wonder—are we subconsciously pushing back against the ever-evolving realm of AI-powered photo editing tools and image generators? That’s a topic best saved for a different (and much longer) discussion. But either way, I’m seeing more photos that prioritize warm, nostalgic imperfection over crisp, high-quality, exact reproduction.
Perhaps this is a sign that I should embrace a little more flaw in myself, no matter what I’m doing. Maybe I just need to DO something, rather than doing nothing. Maybe I’m just a Polaroid camera with a plastic lens—and that’s okay.
-Wyatt H.
Wyatts Hobby Photos 