Kyle Huninghake is a designer and visual artist from Louisville, KY. He began shooting film while studying architecture as an undergrad, and has since found it to be a thrilling, expensive, unshakeable habit. In an editorial capacity he’s covered stories of marriage equality, racial justice, the advent of legal cannabis, and cheerleading. But mostly his camera has become a tool not for documenting the world as it is, but—through experimentation and rolls of failure—for seeing it differently. Catch him in a tall place with a too-heavy camera and never enough film.
See more of Kyle's work on instagram at @kyle.party.of.1
ALTER/ANALOG: What got you interested in shooting film?
KH: My dad lent me his Vietnam-era Nikon F when I was in college studying architecture. I loved the weight of it, the sensation of winding the advance lever, and the click of the shutter. It made me care about each photo, having even this small physical investment. One of my first film rolls turned out to have already been shot by my dad years before. Somehow each frame still turned out, but each one was double-exposed: an accidental merging of his shots and mine. The scenes were separated by many miles and a full decade of time, but they met in a 35mm wide rectangle of emulsion. It blew my mind at the time and continues to do so.
ALTER/ANALOG: How were these images created?
KH: Most of these photos are the product of a similar kind of lack-of-control (willful or accidental). Some are shot on unconventional film stock—the reddish ones using Lomo RX 50-200 loaded in a Holga, the green dotted one with Revolog Volvox in that same Nikon F my dad lent me years ago (still no plans to return it). The spooky/ethereal shots are truly the "happy accidents" of the group. I have a little Rollei 35 pocket camera I bought off a guy in a parking lot a couple years ago. It's recently started firing unexpectedly, often overtop the already-exposed frame. So these photos are the result of some waaaaay overexposed frames, often on expired film, that I then have to "burn" back into view. It's indelicate and unprofessional, but I love the ghostly images that emerge. Like a hazy memory that's been photocopied and faxed to you, years later.
ALTER/ANALOG: What inspires you?
KH: Um, lately I've been trying to get away from my own habits of composition (strong central subject, evocative but out-of-focus backdrop, etc.). I've been inspired by shapes that I can't make sense of, but find myself drawn to for one reason or another (very much like a rorschach test). These blobs I just come across in the wild. Oftentimes they're shadows or reflections that I'm likely to walk or bike right past if I'm not looking closely. I've begun a series where I'm using these shapes as 'masks' that I stencil overtop thrift-store paintings.
ALTER/ANALOG: Tell us about your magazine Chum.
KH: Chum is a photographic magazine I've been putting together with my brother, who also tends to bring a disposable camera with him most everywhere. "Chum" is a friendly word for pal, but also the fish guts you throw to sharks, and somehow that sliver of the Venn diagram is just where we like to reside, creatively. It started out as a DIY zine, simply as an excuse to collaborate on something together and to see our work printed (increasingly rare in the age of Insta). It's since morphed into a 50-page magazine, with full-page (or full-spread) photographs shot by him and me. All on film, and all thoroughly unprofessional and unclean. We just put out Vol. 1 at the beginning of the year, and we hope to bring on additional collaborators for Vol. 2 *hint-hint* (#chumlives).