Light leaks

Light leaks are when light gets into the light-tight part of a camera. They happen with old cameras when the seals corrode, or there are tiny holes in the bellows, or the camera has been bashed around, or it’s just cheap and its parts don’t fit together quite as snugly as they should. For most types of photography, a light leak means the shot is ruined.

But some people love them and I am one of those people.

Taken with a 1940s Ensign Ful-Vue

Taken with a Diana-F plastic toy camera

A light leak is unpredictable even if you’re familiar with your camera’s flaws. How it affects the photograph depends on the strength and direction of the light when you took the shot, aperture, exposure, subject, what type of film you use, and the development process. And even if you can calibrate all that in a primitive camera with few or no settings, a light leak will still be beyond your control. In colour photographs, it might throw a rainbow into a corner of the shot. Or a pillar of hazy red and orange, or a dazzling yellow  aura in the background. Or anything.

In black and white photographs, a light leak bleaches and fogs, cuts through shadow with a bright blade. It might turn a dog into a ghost or transform a sharp modern scene into a sun-faded memory.

There’s something random, magical and unearthly about a light leak.

Writing can be a bit like that too. You’ve got a scene all mapped out in your mind. You start writing. And light leaks in. Maybe it just lights up some detail you didn’t know was there. Maybe it alters the atmosphere and the mood. Maybe it shifts a certain emphasis or perspective. Maybe it turns a dog into a ghost.