Supposedly, summer is on its way, and I say supposedly because the weather we’ve had over the past few weeks has felt more like autumn than spring. But still, supposedly, summer is coming: the days are much longer, the sun shines more intensely, and the light is far more forgiving for analog photography. So I decided to try out a fine-grain black-and-white film, albeit with lower sensitivity. The day I loaded it up was brilliantly sunny, perfect conditions. Although the film was rated at ISO 50 (Ilford PAN F+), I decided to push it to ISO 100. The first two or three photos felt very promising: the aperture stayed above f/8 and shutter speed didn’t drop below 1/125. A perfect roll for a perfect day.
But of course, plans rarely play out as expected, and by the fifth shot I was already facing a challenge. I rarely shoot interiors, but while wandering through the countryside of Ourense, I came across an old, abandoned house full of charm. I circled around it and took a couple of shots. Just as I was about to leave, I noticed the front door was slightly ajar, and, being weak of spirit, I couldn’t resist the curiosity. The moment I stepped inside, I was completely overwhelmed. It was one of the most intense time-travel sensations I’ve ever experienced. Those walls radiated memories and emotions from another era. The modest furniture perfectly captured the simplicity of the life once lived there. The wooden floor creaked, everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, and in some corners, piles of debris had accumulated.
One of the most striking rooms was the one shown in the photo. I could easily imagine an elderly couple waking up beneath the soft light streaming through that window. When I left the house, I gently closed the door as much as I could and walked away feeling deeply grateful, for having experienced a glimpse of a reality so deeply rooted in our past and our culture.
