Expressions at 8mm
My journey capturing human expressions with the Samyang 8mm Wide-Angle lens.
In 2021, I purchased a
Samyang 8mm Manual Wide-Angle lens for my
EF-mount camera. Most lenses allowed me to hide behind the camera.
A 50 or a 200 would let me observe from a safe
distance, capturing candid moments without altering
the room's chemistry.
The 8mm destroyed that distance for me.
It had a bulbous, protruding front element that looked less
like a traditional camera and more like a massive glass eye.
When I pointed it at someone, they couldn't ignore it. The
resulting poses were a mix of natural and performative,
but always exaggerated by design, while being deeply aware of the machine & human in front of them.
I had to invade personal space, often standing just inches away from people.
I found this proximity so fascinating. I loved it when I could see them leaning into
the lens distortion, throwing their hands out, tilting their heads, my lens was literally bending
light in front of me. This record is a series of these light-bending images, from photoshoots at Pax et Bellum dinner parties, to Midsommar celebrations, and my best friends casually posing on a street corner in Copenhagen.
Visiting Cities
Traveling through different cities with the 8mm lens reshaped how I documented these urban experiences. It stopped being about just capturing the grand architecture of a new place and instead became an intimate exploration of how my friends occupied these foreign spaces. The bulbous glass element demanded attention, it pulled people out of their environment and forced an interaction.
Whether we were spending our final morning in Copenhagen walking the high streets in pursuit of Guinness, or retreating into the dim, cozy interior of Baras Enkelt in Stockholm, the reaction to the lens remained universally theatrical. As Rasmus attempted to chart a course back to our group, Tien stepped effortlessly into the frame, looking as badass as she always did. Amidst the corners of Baras Enkelt, where forcing an f/3.5 lens into the shadows was a constant battle, Thomas and Giorgios couldn't resist leaning in and performing for the camera. The 8mm, with all of its distortions, exaggerated the emotions on the already exaggerated people.
These cities served as wildly different backdrops, but the 8mm lens acted as a bizarre anchor. It turned pauses in foreign streets and pubs into playful performances that magnified their personalities and documenting the messy interactions between my friends and the camera.
Gask på Västgöta
This was my second time photographing the Pax et Bellum semester dinner and I saw the setting shifted to the beautiful, historic halls of Västgöta Nation. While the grand architecture of the room initially demanded a certain level of formality, the evening quickly dissolved into something much warmer and less rigid.
The 8mm lens was perfectly suited for this location. As the space filled with energy, the massive field of view allowed me to capture the entirety of the celebration, while remaining physically close to people. By getting right into the middle of the dance floor, the lens distortion captured the joyful chaos of the night, freezing the motion of the room in a way a standard portrait lens never could. When the massive group piled onto the vintage sofa by the fireplace, under those beautiful oil paintings, the lens didn't just fit every smiling face into the frame. Instead, the distortion wrapped the room's historic walls and heavy curtains right around their laughter.
As the night progressed, the 8mm erased the formality of the gask and became the perfect glass to use around that crowd. It was a night defined by loud celebrations, smooth dancing, and the realization that the humanitarians threw the best parties in Uppsala.
Midsommar '23
That Midsommar, we were all together in Stockholm. I will always be grateful the 8mm was there to document it. The proximity required by the lens didn't distort our emotions, instead, it magnified our final, unfiltered expressions.
Because the lens required me to invade personal space, I captured every laugh, exaggerated pose, and kicked leg with clarity. It was a visual testament to our pure joy, proving that we were living entirely in the present, celebrating as if it were our last night together.
The wide-angle distortion didn't just record a scene, but it demanded active participation from everyone in front of it. Looking back at these photos from that Midsummer, they feel less like photos from some event, and more like a pure, immersive memory of our youth.
