A pinhole camera is a simple camera body without a lens. It is a rudimentary, light-proof box with a small aperture (pinhole) on one side. Ambient light from a scene passes through the aperture and projects an inverted image on the opposite side of the box, which is better known as the camera obscura effect.
Physics teaches us that light travels in a straight line. Thus, light from the top of an object, after passing through the pinhole, reaches the bottom of the opposite wall and light from the bottom of that object passing through the pinhole reaches the top of the wall. Voila! This causes the inversion of the image.
The camera obscura has a rich history dating back to the ancient Greeks, as observed by Aristotle. Experimentation with pinhole imagery during the Middle Ages so spooked the ruling class, it resulted in accusations of sorcery and witchcraft. Centuries later in 1824, French inventor Joseph Niepce coated a pewter plate with a special light-sensitive varnish and placed it into a camera obscura. He set the camera box in the window, opened the aperture, and left it in the sun for eight hours. While indistinct, the image revealed was unmistakably the view out of his window in Saint-Loup-de-Varennes. He could see the outlines of buildings, roofs, and chimneys. It was the world's first permanent photograph.
The pinhole camera became a precursor to modern cameras, with early photographers like Henry Fox Talbot and Louis Daguerre experimenting with the concept. These devices are arguably some of the more curious tools in photography, owing to their crude, elementary construction – and yet they continue to fascinate image-makers who enjoy the creative challenge they offer.
Samantha Wyatt describes creating her pinhole image as “a fun test of balance (literally), light, timing, and giggle control.”
Sam chose to build her pinhole camera from a jewelry box. With an interest in people and portraiture, she planned a kiss for her shot. “I thought the pose could be cute as well as interesting. It was a fun idea but turned out to be much more challenging than I had anticipated!” she confessed.
She recounts that the process “was probably 45 minutes of set up, pose, a 10 second exposure, run inside to develop, re-adjust the position of the camera, repeat.” Undoubtedly long on patience, Sam summed it all up: “It was fun! Pinhole photography is fun! Challenging yes, but so rewarding!”
Daniel Bouman has made pinhole cameras out of several different containers – variously, an oval shaped Cadbury Mixed Nuts can, a half-pound Melita coffee can, a 35mm film canister, and both cardboard and wood boxes. He has used 35mm and 120mm roll film, as well as 4”x 5” and 8”x10” sheet film. Having spent years as a commercial photographer, he claims to “love pinholes the best!”
“Pinholes have certain powerful technical capacities, like the ability to create extreme wide-angle views and the ability to exploit near and far relationships. I love the soft aesthetic of the pinhole image. Mostly I learned from pinholes to be fussy about what I can control and to be open to a process that I can step into but not entirely control, sort of like stepping into a river...” he described.
For Tatiana Porter, her affinity for pinhole photography began with curiosity. Also, she feels that capturing an image directly onto photographic paper is very exciting. Tatiana built her first camera from a hot chocolate tin. That camera produced “wonderful and intriguing results,” she recalled. Tatiana now has several pinhole cameras in her collection - some handmade and some acquired ones that use 35mm film.
Tatiana humorously summed up her fascination with the pinhole process as “a form of wizardry”, calling it both primitive and tricky at the same time. The whole process taught her to ‘read’ light by looking up to the sky. In a notebook, she charted descriptions of the clouds, the time of day and corresponding exposure times. “A lot of effort goes into creating a single picture. The process demands that I think carefully about what I am doing,” she added.
“Pinhole photography has a dream-like quality that I cannot achieve using other cameras. There is sharpness and softness, all at the right measure.” In addition to still life compositions, Tatiana also enjoys making self-portraits with a pinhole camera, embracing the natural distortion to facial features. “More and more,” she continued, “I am drawn to a less perfect image, to a soft focused memory.”
This article first appeared in PhotoEd Magazine, Spring Issue 2024 (modified)
Photo credit: Tatiana Porter