A ghost image on film: reflection, light piping, or an optical phenomenon?
These film photographs were taken very recently using film as part of my research on in situ kinetic photography [In Situ Kinetic Photography]. You can explore the various posts on my blog that address this topic, but I’ll summarize here what this technique entails. It involves the photographic exploration of a location or scene, captured in a single exposure lasting several tens of seconds, or even a few short minutes. It’s a sort of mini-film recorded in a single frame.
I really like this Kodak Color Plus 200 film, which produces warm colors and has a slightly retro feel. It doesn’t have a striking dynamic range, but it has a soft, slightly old-fashioned quality with shimmering colors.
In any case, the reason I’m writing this article and presenting these four film photographs—which are part of a larger series—is that one of them depicts a phenomenon that is uncommon in photography, known as a “ghost image,” or “ghosting” in English.
What you see here is not a scanning or image-processing artifact, but a phenomenon physically imprinted on the negative itself. In any case, this is an unusual phenomenon in my own practice of film photography, and one that I am encountering experimentally for the very first time.
As you will see, the perforated part of the 35 mm film is superimposed on the image and appears at a slight angle.
In order to conduct a proper analysis, I need to specify the shooting conditions and the type of equipment used.
- As for the equipment, it’s a Nikon F3T in excellent condition, which was mounted for the occasion with a five-element, non-AI Nippon Kogaku Nikkor-Q 135 mm f/2.8 lens from 1965.
- The back of the camera is completely waterproof, and its seals are practically brand-new. Its hinges are perfectly aligned and do not let in any light. Its waterproofing is regularly checked and is flawless.
- This is a roll of Kodak Color Plus 200 ISO film that I recently purchased and have been storing in a special container designed to preserve film until it is used.
- This photo was taken with an exposure time of about one minute—maybe just a tiny bit longer.
- I always put the viewfinder cap on when I’m taking pictures, which prevents any stray light from creating a halo effect while the shutter is open.
- The film rewound properly, and the cover was never accidentally opened while the film was in the camera. The film was immediately placed in its black box after being removed from the camera.
- Here you can see the photographs that come before or after the one in question. You will notice that none of them show any kind of light haze or artifact.
Given the context described above, the hypothesis that a possible light source is leaking through the rear film loading hatch is highly unlikely.
In fact, if light were to leak through the camera’s body, this stray light could have illuminated the film from behind and formed a severely degraded image of a structure located in the immediate vicinity of the film’s light-sensitive area, such as a bright edge, a window mask, a metal edge, or an adjacent perforated area.
And if that were the case, the perforations visible in the photograph in question could have indirectly contributed to the formation of thisghost image.
I am therefore inclined to believe that the film base itself (that is, not the light-sensitive emulsion, but its transparent plastic structure consisting of multiple thin layers) acts as a component of the optical and image-recording system.
As a reminder, a film consists of several layers, namely:
・The emulsion surface;
・The interfaces between layers;
・The transparent plastic substrate;
・The protective layers
・The anti-halo layer.
Of course, I can’t say for certain exactly which mechanism is responsible for this strange superposition, but two physical hypotheses come to mind.
First Hypothesis
The first hypothesis is thought to be related to a phenomenon known as “light piping.”
When an intense light source strikes the film at an oblique angle, the light could penetrate through the transparent edge of the film and then propagate through the film base.
The perforations in the film could, in fact, serve as an entry point for light to travel through the film’s structure to the emulsion layer, where it would partially reveal the geometry of the film’s edges.
We could think of the path that light travels in this way:
[scene] ～ [lens] ～ [film structure] ～ [film emulsion] ～ [image]
Second hypothesis
The second hypothesis—more speculative but particularly interesting—would be that of an internal reflection involving the film itself.
When exposed to an intense beam of light arriving at a certain angle, this non-sensitive, transparent portion of the film located near the perforations could have been illuminated from the side. A fraction of this light might then have been transmitted through the various layers of the film, reflected toward the surface of the rear lens element, and finally partially reflected back toward the light-sensitive surface of the film, thereby creating this superimposition with the photographed image.
It is also highly likely that this long exposure time allowed the light to travel all that way and be captured in the photograph.
The hypothetical route could then be illustrated as follows:
[scene] ～ [lens] ～ [film frame / film structure] ～ [rear optical surface] ～ [film emulsion] ～ [image]
Under this assumption, film would no longer be merely the passive medium onto which the image is recorded; rather, through its properties of transmission and reflection, it would itself contribute to the creation of the final photograph.
Of course, this is merely a hypothesis on my part that would need to be supported by specific experiments—given the complexity of the interactions between the various organs—in order to be able to state with certainty the exact mechanism behind this phantom image.
So, for now, this image remains an optical mystery whose exact origin I cannot determine with certainty.
The extremely unusual conditions under which it was taken (namely, an exposure of about one minute, the presence of intense light sources, and the use of an old lens with an optical design different from contemporary ones), may have allowed a phenomenon that is usually imperceptible to gradually imprint itself on the emulsion.
The first hypothesis—that light propagates internally within the film base—could explain the presence of the perforated structure.
The second, more speculative approach envisions a series of interactions between the film plane and the rear optical surfaces of the lens, momentarily transforming the photographic medium itself into an active element of the optical system.
What fascinates me about this experiment is precisely this possibility: that the medium intended to receive the image might, during the exposure time, have itself contributed to the composition of the image.
Photography would then no longer be simply a luminous trace of an outdoor scene; we already know this. But the camera, the lens, the type of film, and even the very materiality of the film would have unwittingly become participants in the image.
A photographic accident—that’s for sure!
But it also reveals a transient phenomenon that highlights the idea that the medium of photography can photograph itself 😉
Food for thought…!
