In an era of photographic saturation, Kanade Hamamoto explores the possibilities of the camera.

Hamamoto: I sometimes use film for my personal work and digital for my professional work. When it comes to film, I’ve continued to enjoy it just as much as I did back when I first discovered it in high school—that same sense of wonder and tactile sensation I felt when taking photos. Since I don’t use a light meter, the anticipation of not knowing what the photos will look like until they’re developed is part of the excitement. But when it comes to work, that kind of uncertainty would definitely give me a stomachache (laughs), so I sometimes use a digital camera to show clients the photos right on the spot.

Hamamoto: I really love Fujifilm’s “FUJICOLOR 100” and “Fujicolor SUPER PREMIUM 400,” which is hard to come by these days. There used to be inexpensive professional-grade film that I used often, but compared to that, prices have skyrocketed to nearly ten times what they used to be. Although the “400” was recently brought back, it seems it’s no longer manufactured in Japan but in the U.S., so the color tone has changed slightly.

Hamamoto: In comparison, it’s often said that Kodak film tends to have a “yellowish cast.” On the other hand, Fujifilm gives the impression that blacks come out crisp and well-defined. Even if the colors do shift, I really like that they shift toward a bluish tone—it feels like it blends in perfectly with Japanese landscapes.

Hamamoto: When I was a senior in high school, I was set to hold my first solo exhibition, and since I wanted to capture the exhibition space beautifully in digital form, I used my part-time job earnings to buy my first “X Series” mirrorless camera. Back then, I didn’t have any friends around me to ask for advice about digital cameras, so I had to figure everything out on my own, but the deciding factor was “the feel of the controls and the body design, which were similar to those of a film camera.” Even though Fujifilm cameras are equipped with the latest digital technology, they allow for manual operation via dials, and the shape and layout of the buttons are similar to those on analog film cameras, making them feel incredibly familiar to the touch.

And above all, I love the “colors” that captures the most. While digital cameras from different manufacturers render skin tones completely differently, cameras don’t make skin look unnaturally yellow; instead, they capture human skin beautifully, just as it is, with a bluish, translucent quality. I really love those colors—they’re not artificially enhanced in any way.

Hamamoto: I was overwhelmed by the meticulously detailed imagery—scenes that seemed to “transcend the human eye.” I deliberately narrowed the depth of field to an extremely small range and snapped a shot of a strand of hair; the focus was perfectly sharp on just that single strand, while everything else was beautifully and softly blurred.

I'm glad today's shoot was on the beach. Even through the monitor, I could sense that this camera was capturing every single water droplet and ripple, as well as all the different textures of the sandy shore, without missing a thing.

Hamamoto: I really wanted to try taking portraits with this camera. When I look at the manufacturer’s sample photos, there are, as expected, a lot of majestic landscape shots of waterfalls and mountains, but I’d like to deliberately use this camera to take pictures of my grandmother and others (lol). I think I might be able to capture unique, full-of-character portraits that really bring out the texture of her deep wrinkles.

It’s certainly interesting to capture every detail in a location that’s naturally rich in visual information right from the start, but I’d also like to try photographing people in a carefully crafted setting—such as an indoor studio with a deliberately minimalist background—where there’s no visual clutter. I’m curious to see what would happen if I used this camera to capture every last detail—from the way light enters the human eye to a single eyelash, and even the finest wrinkles on the skin—pushing the camera’s capabilities to the absolute limit.