I have a small tin container of smaller tin film cans I took from my grandparents’ house in 2001 when my grandmother passed away. They, particularly my grandfather, were prolific shooters of 8mm film. Not only did I come home with this tin of 9 small reels, but I also came home with a giant plastic tub of large reels of 8mm film. The big tub of reels were all old family films- delightful, fun, almost cliche family home movies. They are all poorly shot, some are double-exposed, which I loved to intentionally do in film school myself, but my grandfather did it because he would accidentally flip the reel around in the camera just one-too-many times. I digitized those as soon as I could afford to with both my time and my money. (I’m the right person in my family to take over this work- I went to film school for undergrad, and then later became a Librarian/archivist with my specialty in film/video.) Each reel was carefully labeled by my grandmother, and seeing her handwriting makes my heart soar. The labels are almost as precious as seeing her on film, laughing, running, playing tennis, feeding my mother and uncle.
But, I’d lost track of the little tin case of small reels. And, when I eventually found it again, I had developed a strange sense of uneasiness around it. The handwriting was different- my grandfather’s. And, I wondered why it was separated from the rest. Was the content gross? Was it porny? Or, did it…
