35mm life

Il-Fotografija Artistika ta’ Tumas Agius

A gallery and journal from the heart of a romantic, dedicated to capturing the oneiric allure of life in film.

• ’66 Minolta Hi-Matic 7s Rangefinder
• ’56 Yashicaflex A2 Twin-Lens Reflex

Il-Gallerija

posts

contact me

tumas@35mm.life

  • How to scan film affordably

    How to scan film affordably

    This is how I scan negatives and positives of all sizes with a setup that costs less than $50USD.

    From the moment I started developing my own film, scanning negatives well has been routinely on my mind. While working exclusively with 135 film, I would use a dedicated 135 negative scanner for all of my scanning needs, though once I began shooting 120, I needed to look into a scanner that supported medium format, and unfortunately, I quickly realised a scanner like that was way out of my immediate price range.

    A typical flat-bed photo negative scanner would set me back around $1700*. This meant I could either spend $30 per roll at my local lab to have all my film scanned until I could justify spending the money on my own scanner, or I could come up with a cheaper solution.

    *Keep in mind that I live in Australia, so all currency will be in Australian dollars, unless specified otherwise.

    Can I make do?

    With that in mind, while researching medium–large format scanners and digital camera scanning, I wondered if I could set up the scanner on my printer in the same fashion. For the most part, it seemed as if it would work, presenting its first barrier only when I realised my scanner lacked a backlight. This issue wasn’t too difficult to resolve fortunately—inspired by the idea of a light pad used for sketching, I bought a $7 backlight and began scanning with it the next day.

    In my first backlight test, it was apparent that my backlight was excessively bright at the lowest brightness setting, and because of that, all of my photos were coming through as if they had been harshly underexposed. It’s possible that a backlight with greater brightness variation would solve this issue, but fortunately, my family owns a business that opened me up to a different solution—one that set me on an unexpected path of more creative potential.

    A creative solution

    The next day, I visited my family’s window tinting workshop, brought home different shades of window film and began testing them out as a tinted sheet between the negatives* and the backlight. Rewardingly, after a bit of experimenting, I found a shade of window film that offered a decent exposure for for most scans, and initially began using it for every scan.

    *I use the word negative because I mostly scan b&w negatives, but the method will work for scanning positive slides, as well as colour.

    Though over the span of scanning a couple of rolls, I came across photos that would come out either too washed out or too underexposed with that particular tint. Much like a digital camera, a scanner has default exposure settings that you can often customise, so I attempted to change the exposure settings within my scanning software to account for this, however, these settings only change the exposure after scanning, and I found I was losing parts of the negatives that were either too bright or dark for the scanner to pick up at the physical exposure.

    This inspired me to get creative: changing out tinted sheets, using combinations of sheets, and adjusting the backlight brightness to find the best exposure at the scanning stage. I found a sheet that gave me a pleasant tone at the lowest backlight brightness. I would increase the brightness to bring out the darker areas of the photo and add different shades of sheet to bring out the lighter ones, until I arrived at the contrast and shade I desired. This worked really well!—and I was thrilled with the outcome.

    This method allowed me to adjust the exposure of my photograph before it was scanned, because once my scanner had captured a particular exposure physically, I could only get so much from editing; a computer cannot authentically recreate what wasn’t captured. As someone who tends to take a lot of intentionally underexposed shots, getting the most from the lighting of the original exposure is important to me.

    Another popular approach uses a digital camera instead of a scanner, photographing the negative from above. Purchasing a setup like this is fairly affordable and works in much the same way. Though I prefer the scanner approach when it comes to handwork. If you want to recreate darkroom techniques like burning, dodging, and creating composites with the assistance of tinted sheets or other physical objects, I find it far easier to work from above the negative, rather than using the camera method, where the tinted sheet is forced underneath the negative, limiting how accurately you can line up your techniques. Once I’ve had more time to refine the craft of handwork, I’ll put together a tutorial on how I approach different techniques using the tinted sheet-and-scanner method.

    What else do I need to make this work?

    To hold the negative down, I used a small square piece of glass from a spare negative carrier for my enlarger. To prevent reflections and flares in my photos, I bought a piece of matte black craft paper and cut a roughly 7×7 hole in it, and I brought home a sheet of matte white window film from my family’s workshop to work as a diffusion sheet.

    Once I had all of this, my setup was complete—I could confidently begin scanning again. I set my resolution to 2400 dpi with a 48-bit depth and 24-bit output—so I was scanning in high optical detail and depth—and found a good base exposure setting. To finish off, I opened all my scans in GIMP, inverted the colours, and cropped the photographs to the correct size.

    Now, I use my printer scanner for negatives and positives of all sizes, and I personalise every scan at the physical level. I play around with shades of tinted sheets and backlight brightness, using intuition to find the perfect contrast for each photograph.

    How much does this all cost?

    All together, from conception to realisation, this setup cost me only $10. This is because I already had the printer, the glass, and the window film. Having these foundations gave me a solid starting point, but even if you don’t have them, if you’re interested in putting together a similar setup, you can still buy everything you need relatively cheaply. As a beginner especially, it’s hard to justify the price of a professional photograph negative scanner.

    The printer I’m using originally cost me $85 from a local store, but you can often find a printer with a scanner in a secondhand shop for about $20. I have had no issues with Newton’s rings so far with my printer scanner, but if you do, you might consider scanning emulsion-side-down instead. Just be sure to check the specifications of any printer you’re considering to make sure it has a good-quality true optical scan.

    Some scanners these days use interpolated DPI, which guesses extra pixels in your scan; it doesn’t add real detail beyond the scanner’s true optical resolution, and is not really necessary. The scanner I use offers true optical scanning up to 2400 dpi, which I find is sufficient for good-quality photographs.

    As I mentioned, the backlight cost me $7, and the matte black craft paper set me back another $3, which totals the $10 I spent. As for the piece of glass to keep the negative flat, you can buy large specialty microscope slides for about $15 at some lab supply stores if you want a small dedicated piece; however, there is no shame in using the glass from a small photo frame, if you have one spare lying around. I found a small photo frame for $5 at a secondhand store recently—that’s all you need.

    Lastly, if you find that your backlight doesn’t have the variation you need, it could be a fun idea to experiment with different shades of window film, or another type of tinted sheet. Some window film suppliers or window tinting businesses may be willing to send you a sample pack for a small fee. Otherwise, email me at tumas@35mm.life, and I’ll ship you out the same tinted sheet pack I use from my family’s workshop at cost price, with each film labelled with its light transmission value.

    Realistically, along with the film, this whole setup secondhand might cost you around $65, or about $42 USD, and even brand new it still comes in far cheaper than the almost $2000 you’d typically spend on medium–large format negative and photo scanners.

    Happy scanning!

    My film and glass
    My black matte paper
    My matte white diffuser film
    My tinted films
    My backlight
    An example of the outcome
  • Yashicaflex Sessions 3: Optimistic development

    Yashicaflex Sessions 3: Optimistic development

    Unlatching the roll of film from my Yashicaflex, I’m more excited than ever to develop a roll. I’m crazy about the mechanics of this camera—everything is simple, yet complex. From the way the roll travels from one side of the camera, around the bend, to the other; to the solid, reassuring twist latch that seals the film door shut; to the counter window at the back that allows me to count each frame from the numbers on the film’s backing sheet while I wind the roll forward with the satisfyingly haptic film-advance knob—every part of this camera pleases my primitive, tactile brain. As I prepare to unravel the backing sheet of what must be one of my favourite cameras, I can barely contain the excitement of my early-century ancestors.

    As I’m moving interstate in a few months, I don’t want to set up a darkroom in the house, nor do I own a dark tent. Instead, I drape a block-out curtain over myself and fumble around in pitch black on the floor of my study, trying to guide the film onto the development reel. Loading 35mm has never given me trouble, but this is my first time handling 120 film, and now, coming out from under the curtain, it proved to be a far more involved process.

    I spent about twenty minutes under the curtain, trying to meditate past my claustrophobia as I struggled to guide the film onto the reel. Once it finally latched, I slipped the reel into the light-tight development tank and let out an exhausted sigh of relief. Someone shared a trick with me for doing this more easily, so I’ll have to try it with my next roll.

    Making my way into the spare bathroom where I process my film, I begin setting up my processing station. Before long, I discover I do not have enough developer for a 120 roll. I had enough left from the Ilford Paterson processing kit for a roll of 35mm, though I did not think to check if I had much more left over. After some deliberation, weighing up the choice between over-diluting the chemicals and waiting a week for new ones to arrive, I decide to risk losing part of the roll so I can finish this test over the weekend. I can justify my impatience by remembering that most of the shots on this roll are of bins and fire-exhaust boxes anyway.

    So, I got to developing, and despite the undeveloped edge of the negatives, the photos turned out a lot better than expected. They were of high quality for the speed of the film I used, and the contrast between light and dark was absolutely stunning—I just can’t get that sort of contrast with my Minolta. There were a few over- and underexposures here and there—from miscalculating the stop counts to account for the inherent overexposure caused by the incompatible film speed—and my difficulty focusing in low light through the viewfinder showed in the photographs, but apart from that, I was happy with how the roll turned out.

    This will definitely be the camera I use for my best shots, though I favour my Minolta as my everyday camera, since shooting on the Yashicaflex gets expensive quickly, and with the reverse viewfinder image, it can be a little slow to compose a shot. I also don’t have a digital camera apart from my phone, so the Minolta is useful for test shots and general use.

    I’ve stocked up properly on chemicals now, and I’ll make sure to keep a healthy supply from here on. They should arrive before my next roll is finished. Before that happens, though, I need to load the camera with the right film this time.

    Loading the film in and rolling it back is still the absolute most satisfying feeling. There is something wonderfully tactile about the moment it hooks onto the spool and you wind it forward, letting the backing paper sit perfectly tight against the roll. Then, as you wind the film forward until the number appears in the counter window, you do so carefully, lest you roll past the number and risk overlapping exposures.

  • Reclaim motivation

    Reclaim motivation

    “Your purpose in life is to find your purpose and give your whole heart and soul to it” — Gautama Buddha

    Motivation, throughout a lot of my life, has been a fleeting force, pulling me toward one venture or another. Unsettled, I would gravitate toward a particular interest for a short period, before losing drive and moving my focus to the next. Often using fictitious excuses to justify my departures from my various endeavours, I had accepted this was a part of me I could not change.

    A few years ago, I experienced several dramatic changes in my life that allowed me the relief to reset the expectations I had of myself. This reorientation of my self-esteem put me in the position of losing all motivation to do anything—though not in a dispiriting way. Some reflection on my newfound lack of motivation brought me to the realisation that in the past, I had mostly been motivated by external expectation and validation.

    Constant fluctuation between interests definitely took a hit on my self-efficacy, but this total lack of any motivation whatsoever was not something I had experienced before. I was fortunately in a pretty healthy mental state during this time, which allowed me to consider my situation optimistically and undertake an active and wholesome examination of what motivates me.

    My mind had become clearer, and I sought to find out one thing: what do I do now?

    I spent a lot of time enquiring into other people’s motivations and considering my own past motivations. These sorts of external motivations I held in the past were dependent on a consistent environment and because of this, they weren’t able to hold my attention for long—whether it was a business venture or a university degree, it always became something that I eventually detested.

    The question of what motivates me without making me feel anxious stayed with me for some time.

    Growing up, I suffered with generalised anxiety, and though I have a much better grasp on it today, it is something that greatly shaped the person I am today. I also realised I had quite the ego; never intent to do something purely on passion, I would set out to prove my worth to others. These introspective considerations prepared me to understand the barriers I had unconsciously internalised. If I were to find healthy motivation, I needed to cut off aspiration for external validation and focus on doing things I enjoyed solely for the sake of enjoyment.

    “In our consciousness, there are many negative seeds and also many positive seeds. The practice is to avoid watering the negative seeds, and to identify and water the positive seeds every day.” — Thich Nhat Hanh

    I recently came across the term Behavioural Activation—the act of engaging in meaningful activities that a person knows will contribute positively to their mood. It is a therapy commonly implemented to address depression, though, in my own case, I found it useful to practice actively directing my attention toward a project, even without the motivation, with the hope of finding it along the way. With this in mind, I picked up a hobby I had been considering for a while: drumming.

    Following months of attending drumming lessons taught by my long-time friend Morgan, I sensed a hint of motivation—in the gradual improvement I found in drumming. It wasn’t instant gratification and it was not in working toward a goal, or in proving myself to others, but in doing something I enjoy and finding purpose in my practice alone. I actively took up what is called a beginner’s mindset. While I often set out to try and prove myself or to be entirely independent of all creative influence, I now set out to learn from others, content in the role of a novice, and intent on learning from those who inspire me.

    Up to this day, I haven’t played drums in front of anybody (except for my wife who can’t help hearing it across the house). I resigned myself to a healthy sense of pride and internal validation, and in this way, I’m able to maintain a healthy ego; one that supports my self-esteem and discourages an unhealthy level of external dependency and self-importance. This freedom from external forces inspired me to take up courses in music theory and production, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

    Though before I was ready to take on my interests with confidence, it became apparent that another considerable barrier obstructing my path was accessibility; many of my interests in the past required an arduous and often time-consuming setup. This became immensely tedious and would undoubtedly contribute to further demotivation. In the practice of excessively researching an interest early on, I would rush into building an extensive and adversely complicated setup. Rather, I needed a pursuit I could pick up and begin doing right away.

    Music led me to explore my passions in other art forms, and though I had long had a fascination for cinematography, it was classical film that fueled my admiration for analogue motion picture and still photography. Though I have only ever expressed myself creatively through music before, I believe that there is a general artistic archetype: a type of person who connects closely with the expression of emotion and who too has a desire to express themselves creatively in whatever medium they aspire to exercise. So, inspired by a love for visual artistry, I bought myself an old camera and took up my journey into photography.

    As my self-efficacy grew, motivation came much more easily. I’m a lot more confident in pursuing larger projects, and by starting my journey at a steady pace—initially taking my film to be processed at the local lab—I was able to overcome my accessibility barrier, and naturally build the drive to begin processing my own film in my bathroom at home. With time, I came to the conclusion that establishing a healthy basis for motivation was necessary for me to sustain interest in a pursuit, and that genuine consideration needed to be put into what my motivations were. I only needed a starting point to begin a meaningful journey, and it was in this way that I was able to reclaim motivation.

  • Yashicaflex Sessions 2: Seeking exposure

    Yashicaflex Sessions 2: Seeking exposure

    From the first satisfying turn of the film advance knob, watching the film roll forward manually through the counter window at the back of my Yashicaflex, I was hooked on this new camera.

    My film was loaded and I was ready to adjust my camera’s film speed setting. I had chosen Ilford HP5+ 400 for my first roll, as it was the only medium format film the camera store had in stock that day—and I was much too excited to back-order a roll.

    However, it soon became apparent that my Yashicaflex supports a maximum film speed setting of 200, which is fine usually, because as of late, I have committed myself to 80 and 100 ASA films, but for now, it meant that my photos were going to be inherently overexposed, and I would need to adjust my exposure calculations to account for that, but that’s okay—I don’t expect the world of a test roll.

    My sister asked me the other day, “What is your camera’s name?”. I’ve been calling my cameras “My Minolta” and “My Yashicaflex”, so after a few days of deliberation, I decided on the name Keiko.

    The subject of my first photograph ended up being the orange tree in my back garden, which appeared so beautifully through the viewfinder. From there, the excitement took over—I couldn’t help taking a shot. It’s a bit of a busy composition, so I’m not sure how well it will turn out, but it was very satisfying.

    From then, I bought a strap and I took Keiko out onto the street intent on finishing my roll all in one day. I wasn’t too focused on getting a good shot; I wanted to get a feel for my camera.

    “Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst.” – Henri Cartier-Bresson

  • Yashicaflex Sessions 1: A new frame

    Yashicaflex Sessions 1: A new frame

    Since the beginning of my voyage into photography, I have been enamoured of waist-level reflex cameras—the large yet discrete viewfinder accessible from the top and the focus on often square format composition piqued my imagination and creativity. Specifically, studying the works of the Hong Kong based photographer Ho Fan, Swiss photographer Werner Bischof, and New York based photographer Vivian Maier introduced me to beauty of the twin-lens reflex (TLR) cameras.

    Though, it was my love for Japanese watches and cameras that led me to the Yashicaflex; a TLR designed and manufactured by the Japanese company Yashica as their response to other TLRs like the popular German Rolleiflex. Japanese mechanics tends to be somewhat influenced by German craftsmanship, though being that Japan is closer to my end of the world and tends to sell products at a more suitable price point, I tend to prefer them to the European products.

    Today, my 1956 Yashicaflex A2 arrived in almost mint condition. It has a few scuffs suggesting good previous use, but I’m unsure what sort of application it had been used for prior to being stored in a warehouse. It has clearly been well preserved, and it’s time I gave it a second life.

    Loading the film for the first time in a new camera is exciting!—and a little nerve-racking. This is my first time loading medium format film, and loading a Yashicaflex is quite a bit different from loading my Hi-Matic. But it’s loaded now.

    This is the most exciting part: the first shot with a new camera—does it function? Am I using it correctly? Will the photos come out as expected? I suppose I won’t know until I finish the roll. There are 12 exposures with a 6×6 resolution, so I will try to use them mindfully. I might be more excited to develop my film than to take the actual photos, but that’s okay. I think I need to tone down my excitement and be present so that I connect with this camera first.

  • Brisbane Artistiku

    Brisbane Artistiku

    In a city that breathes, Brisbane Artistiku seeks syncopation; the off-beat encounters between the movement that makes this city unique. Through these captured scenes, fleeting gestures and quiet details become meditations on the humanity we share in passing.

    An echo of time, among contemporary forms. This photograph depicts 19th-century architecture beautifully juxtaposed with modern-day rail infrastructure. Seen through a mid-20th-century lens, it subtly blending eras in a most timeless way.

    An echo of time by Tumas Agius – October 2025

    Our isolation is created by the barriers we place between. An analogy for isolationism, this photograph is meant to be seen from two perspectives; that of the passer-by, and that of the subject—yet the truth remains unknown to both.

    Isolation by perspective by Tumas Agius – October 2025

    The scope of life seems smaller when we can see only within. Tucked away in our own world, our view becomes limited, stressing the difficulty to look beyond our small bubble and notice what unfolds outside.

    Scope of life by Tumas Agius – October 2025

    A rhythm finds peace in authenticity. Poise allows the subject to walk with purpose, trusting she will arrive exactly where she intends, stepping forward unhurried into the soft shadow, assured of her direction amid unsettled motion.

    Authentic cadence by Tumas Agius – October, 2025

    An unexpected smile lingers in its passing, carrying with it, endless joy. This photograph draws upon the albedo of the subject’s spirit, revealing how kindness resonates outward, reflected vicariously in those who are open to receive it.

    Consequent incandescence by Tumas Agius – October, 2025

    In genuine moments, passion finds its light. As this couple wandered windlessly through the Arcade, the tender light followed their stride—the perfect accompaniment to their kindled affection; a moment made in Brisbane Arcade.

    Appassionato at the Arcade by Tumas Agius – October, 2025

  • Bringing film photography to life

    Made in Brisbane Arcade, October 2025.

    For the past few months, I have been taking my rolls of film to the local photo lab for processing and scanning. It was convenient, and the advice I received from the staff there was always valuable, but it was starting to get expensive, and I wanted to connect more with the process to understand it on a practical level, knowing that I could introduce more creativity with my developing process.

    So, I decided to set up my own lab at home and have since begun processing my own film. This experience is much more satisfying and makes film photography feel far more intimate—being part of the physical and chemical process from shooting to scanning. I no longer just feel like the photographer; I’m directly connected with the development of each photograph.

    I have already started to experiment with different developers and with pushing and pulling. Now, I’m saving up for an enlarger so I can start printing and burning my own photographs. I want to experiment with exposure and contrast, play with tones, and delicately shape shadows until each image feels alive in its own way.

  • Springwood Artistiku

    Logan City has been my home now for the past 5 years. The city has two major economic hubs, one of which is Springwood.

    A local postwoman’s Kyburz DXP 5.3. This Swiss electric bike was the first three-wheeler to be retrofitted for use by Australia Post. 6 years ago, the 7.0 Australia Post prototype rolled out, however, I still only see 5.3s in Logan, so I assume that is our current model.

    I have a special kind of appreciation for public transportation. As the population of South East Queensland increases and the traffic becomes more condensed, we shouldn’t neglect the fundamental service that keep our roads safe and our pollution levels low. Between Gold Coast and Logan, the need for a more extensive public transportation system is imperative.

    The Maltese cross has long symbolised medical support, tracing back to the 12th-century Order of Knights of the Hospital of Saint John, who cared for pilgrims under its banner. Centuries after the Knights left Malta, the island upheld their legacy during World War I, becoming known as the “nurse of the Mediterranean” for treating Allied casualties from Gallipoli. The emblem later became the official civil ensign of the Republic of Malta, and today this symbol of protection, honour, and bravery is proudly displayed by Australia’s ambulance service on their uniforms, vehicles, and stations. Including here, at the Springwood Ambulance Station.

  • The real Chinatown: Sunnybank

    Thank you to the supportive staff at Retail First for giving me permission to shoot and to the staff at Sunnybank Plaza for being so kind and friendly to me the whole time I was there.

    Sunnybank is often called the real Chinatown of Brisbane. It is a unique multicultural hotspot with major influences from Brisbane’s Asian community.

    Just as you enter Sunnybank, you are greeted with the major social and shopping hub of the community, Sunnybank Plaza. It is the place many people spend Lunar New Year and where many Asian cultural activities and events are held.

    28% of the community were born in Asia, with 31% reporting Chinese ancestry, and Cantonese and Mandarin speakers together making up 27.8% of the overall population of the suburb.

    The food scene in Sunnybank is the beating heart of its multicultural identity, where people come together to enjoy a diverse convergence of Chinese, Taiwanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Malaysian, and Japanese cuisines.

    The Hoyts Cinema, which regularly screens foreign films, is a popular meeting spot for families and the after-school crowd. Located right beside the plaza food court, it has even hosted live performances in its front lobby, including appearances by the AusOriental Orchestra, whose traditional music beautifully complements screenings of the latest films from across Asia.

    During Lunar New Year, Sunnybank comes alive with Lion Dance, Dragon Dance, and Qigong performances by students from local Wushu (kung fu) schools. The dancers weave their way through the plaza, as well as Sunny Park Shopping Centre and Market Square; two other prominent hubs of Asian culture in the area.

    In the 1980s, according to local lore and Feng Shui Master Tom Lo—whose consultancy services apply feng shui principles to real estate—Chinese immigration to Sunnybank was partly attributed to the area’s favourable feng shui. Lo has identified the name and location of Sunnybank as symbolising prosperity, health, good fortune, and luck.

    This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is 14.jpg

    The area of Sunnybank has been continuously occupied for more than 20,000 years, with archaeological evidence indicating sustained human presence and cultural activity over this time. Today, this land is recognised as part of the traditional Country of the Jagera (Yuggera) people.

    The impression from daily life in Sunnybank is one of community and exchange, where languages, cuisines, and traditions intertwine to create the vibrant heart of multicultural Brisbane.

  • The techno-regressionist’s motivation

    It is easy to unpack the anemoic allure of exoticism, I’m sure. There is something so idealistic about regressing to a simpler time, however, from my own anecdotal perspective, the motivation to regress technologically in creative endeavours, while undoubtedly influenced by romanticisation of a foreign era, is driven less by retro-nostalgia and more by fear.

    Firstly and most vitally, the fear of the death of art—

    I overheard a local artist and friend of the family talking with my dad on the phone one morning about the issues artificial intelligence (AI) generated ‘art’ was creating for him. He is a painter with a very unique style. Despite this, AI was able to recreate distorted versions of his artwork within seconds. Though lacking any artistic vision or passion, the computer ripped off his style without any protection of his artistic or intellectual rights. He had begun to feel the need to compete with lawless AI image generation software and from what I gathered, he was worried about the future of all artists.

    The ability to differentiate between genuine work and digital fabrication is becoming increasingly difficult. While digital manipulation tools such as Photoshop and CGI are tools that allow artists to modify and transform their craft through contemporary mediums, this is not the case with AI imagery. AI imagery lacks human input and therefore any artistic value or passion, turning an expression of human emotion into an algorithm, threatening the soul that defines humanity.

    Art has been the pillar of humanity since its dawn. When it dies, so will we all.

    Moreover, fears such as those of a techno-oligarchy rising from the economic dominance of Silicon Valley, a potential job and economic crisis right around the corner, or the fear of digital reliance creating vulnerabilities in a society from which we lack the means or knowledge to recover, all encourage me to take a step back from the racing speed of technological progress, and slow down (even if that means regressing a little to compensate).

    Technology progresses at an alarming rate for a society whose social and economic structures do not. The fallacy that we are too big to fall has been shared among many others, from the Roman Empire to Blockbuster, and today, while libraries digitise their collections, films transition to streaming services, and our means of livelihood are stored solely in a cloud, we risk losing the strongest elements of our society.

    I can only assume the inclination to wield this motivator is not narrow, and that others have taken up metaphorical arms in resistance to the modern-day AI revolution. Similar to the motivation of historical conservative movements, a natural pull away from rapid progression is probably embedded in our genes to prevent us from diving headfirst into the mistakes of our extinct ancestral cousins.

    This doubt of our immortality is not a conservative plea though; I do not believe we need to do away with modern technology. Perhaps though, giving technological progress the time to settle in isn’t such a daunting approach, and if it takes a movement of techno-regressionists to get this point across, then take up art and join the revolution!