The Polaroid SX‑70, introduced in 1972 by Polaroid founder Edwin Land, was the world’s first—and remains the only—folding single‑lens‑reflex instant camera ever made. Its design was totally unique: a true SLR that used a mirror system to let photographers see precisely what the lens saw, an innovation never repeated in another instant camera. Its groundbreaking “integral” Time‑Zero film developed automatically as it emerged from the camera, producing a finished photograph within minutes—no darkroom, no separation. Unlike any other Polaroid, the SX‑70 also allowed photographers to manually focus, making it possible to achieve a beautiful depth‑of‑field variation that gave the images a uniquely cinematic, dreamlike quality. The camera’s elegant design, leather finish, and mechanical precision made it both an engineering marvel and an icon of mid‑century creativity. Though the original Time‑Zero film was discontinued in the mid‑2000s, its luminous colors and ethereal depth remain unmatched, inspiring ongoing efforts to revive the medium.

My love for the SX‑70 began in the early 1990s, when I found one at a yard sale and instantly fell in love with the simplicity and magic of instant film. The beautiful images I could create with such minimal tools intrigued and excited me. Working at the time as a freelance commercial wardrobe stylist, I began taking one of my SX‑70s, and 10 to 20 packs of film, on every job. Between shoots, I would wander and photograph—drawn to the way the camera captured fleeting light and quiet moments with such intimacy. But it wasn’t only during work travel that I used it; the SX‑70 also became part of my everyday life. I carried it with me to points all over the country, photographing textures, reflections, and still corners of daily life that might otherwise pass unnoticed.

Its single lens, one film type, and reliance on natural light offered a grounding contrast to the complexity of commercial photography. Each evening I’d spread out my new Polaroids across a hotel room table or a kitchen counter, amazed by the richness and emotion within these small squares of emulsion, and the stories they told.

As I continued shooting, I found myself drawn to recurring themes—the way light touched simple forms, how time softened edges, how color could hold memory. Over the years, I built a growing archive of SX‑70 photographs, each one a small window into stillness amid a fast‑paced creative life. A curator friend later persuaded me to exhibit them, and it was both thrilling and bittersweet to let some of the originals go. More recently, I began scanning and enlarging the images, bridging analog and digital worlds while preserving the signature warmth and depth that made me fall in love with the SX‑70 in the first place.