FOMATIK // Issue 05

Late September, I flew out to Denver to meet my dad and unload a few things from storage. I arrived early, grabbed a rental car, and made a detour: the Rocky Mountain Arsenal Wildlife Refuge. My goal was simple, see how a Nikon N90s (film, mid-90s) stacked up against a Nikon D90 (digital, late-2000s), AF Nikkor 28-200mm f/3.5-5.6G ED lens, swapped back and forth between both bodies.

Insert photo of cameras / setup

The plan nearly died before it started. As I was preparing my bags for the flight the night before my N90s had no power, it had been a while so I pulled out the batteries and I immediately saw an issue. Corroded batteries in the vertical grip. Fresh ones didn’t help either, until I realized the spring inside the battery compartment was loose. This was discovered as I was attempting to figure out what was going on and my hand added pressure to the battery clip by accident and the camera turned on. A little fumbling around and I discovered the problem. The spring had become loose, so as the batteries were inserted into the grip the two double A batteries that make the final contact were pushed back too far, resulting in a poor connection.

I didn’t want to only bring the D90, so I tore up an index card, folded it, and wedged it between the spring. A true field hack. It worked… sort of. I spent the day jiggling the grip just to keep the camera alive. Each time the power flickered out, I had to wonder—if the batteries can't make good contact, what else might be inconsistent?

This is the kind of decision point that defines how we approach the craft: Do you push through with compromised tools, or do you adapt? There's no right answer, but there is an honest one. I chose to push through, knowing I might lose the images. That choice matters more than whether it worked.

Pull-quote style caption: “Field repair kit: one index card.”

The first stop on my journey was the Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge near the Denver International Airport. I drove through the area until I got to Lake Mary. There is a nice loop to get a view and fish if that is your thing.

The N90s fought me at every turn. Autofocus was unreliable, shutter priority or auto were the only workable modes. The shutter fired when I pressed it, but with the power cutting in and out, I couldn't be sure if the exposures were actually happening when they should. Meanwhile, the D90 did what I asked.

The comparison wasn’t entirely fair, more a test of persistence than of cameras. I was starting to get frustrated with the N90s and I was thinking of scraping the plan, but I wanted to finish the roll. Still, it made me wonder: how much does 'ease' change the way we see? When a camera fights you, does it make you more intentional—or just distracted? I wanted to believe the struggle was part of the craft, that film's friction made me a better photographer. But standing there, jiggling a battery grip while trying to capture the light on Lake Mary, I wasn't being intentional. I was just being stubborn.

When my dad was ready I went to pick him up and we drove I-70 into the Rocky Mountains. As fall colors were on the verge of changing, he wanted to go up one of his favorite canyons drives, Guanella Pass Road. We couldn’t see the Aspens from Denver, and even as we were driving up the mountain pass, there were little signs of the fall colors. Once we got past the pines, the mountain exploded into yellow with flashes of red.

We pulled over again and again, stepping out into the crisp air to shoot. Despite the battery battles, I kept both cameras going. The N90s seemed to respond when I needed it to, but shooting with one hand while jiggling a battery grip with the other isn't exactly ideal for consistent exposures. Standing next to my dad, watching the aspens flare, I remembered why these experiments matter, it’s not just gear. It’s who you share the frame with.

While, I thoroughly loved the drive and the companionship of my dad and step mom, the drive could have been one without a camera and I would have been content. Even if I were to just whip out the phone for a few shots. All up the canyon there were people pulled off onto the shoulder like we were doing. With cameras and tripods to capture the mountain scene of fall.

Back in Indianapolis, I dropped the film off at Robert's Camera with cautious optimism. The film had loaded fine, advanced smoothly, and rewound like it should. But those intermittent power issues nagged at me. Ten days until I'd know if any of it actually worked.

On Saturday, October 4th, I got the message from Robert's. I opened it expecting to see thumbnails of aspens and lake reflections. Instead: 'No images on the roll, we are refunding you in store credit.' Gah! So much for comparing film and digital side-by-side. But there is a kind of comparison of the gear and usability of each camera.

Here's the thing about craft: it's not about suffering. It's not about using the 'harder' tool just to prove something. Craft is about making deliberate choices that serve your vision.

I chose the N90s because I wanted to compare formats, to understand what film offers that digital doesn't. That was intentional. But continuing to shoot with failing gear? That wasn't craft—that was ego. The craft was in the images I made with the D90, where I could focus on light and composition instead of whether my camera would fire.

The lesson isn't 'film is dead' or 'digital is better.' It's simpler: Know what you're trying to make, and choose tools that help you make it. Sometimes that's film. Sometimes it's not.

The D90 still feels comfortable in my hand and I can get what I want out of it. The settings are quick and easy, and the controls are almost second nature at this point. I can switch between modes, and the controls for aperture and shutter are easy, I can go into the menus and change ISO if I need to.

The N90s, well I am for sure clumsy with it. It used to be second nature, and I have learned, like many do that the lens matters. An older lens would be better, one where I can control the aperture on the lens. I know that the latest F mount lenses might not even work on the D90.

There are newsletters, and articles, and podcasts and YouTube videos that can give more detail on these cameras than I ever could. As well as some serious deep dives. But this is just me as a lost photographer, trying to get back out and shoot. Figuring out what gear is best to take on a trip, or out on a photo walk for the day.

The point really is to get out and shoot—but shoot with purpose. There are still fall colors out there. Halloween decorations are populating doorsteps and yards. What draws your eye? What are you trying to capture?

Choose your tools deliberately. Test them honestly. Then get out there and make something that matters to you. That's the craft

So how do you avoid my mistakes?

📷 Field Notes: The Test Roll Protocol Before any important shoot, run a test roll through your film camera:

Or go the DIY route: A basic B&W development kit costs about $50 and lets you test a roll in an afternoon. It's the only way to get quick feedback on whether your camera is actually working. Cost: Time and patience. Value: Not losing an entire trip's worth of images.

FOMATIK isn't about gear worship or format wars. It's about understanding your tools well enough to forget about them when it matters. Some days that means film. Some days it means digital. Some days it means knowing when to put the camera down and just watch the aspens with your dad.

When was the last time you had to jerry-rig a camera—or improvise just to get the shot? What did you learn from it? Hit reply and share your story—I’d love to feature a few in a future issue.

Want to discuss this newsletter or connect with others who love photography? Visit the FOMATIK community on Reddit: r/fomatik

California-bound. What to pack? The D90, definitely. Maybe give the Holga some love with the right film. And this time—remember to be still.

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