Brian Scadden, once one of only eight wet-plate photographers worldwide, helped revive a nearly lost art. 175 years after its invention, he continues the craft—sharing his passion, process, and belief in permanence in an increasingly digital, fleeting world.
Clocking in at just nine minutes, Through a Glass, Lightly is a deceptively modest film that leaves a lasting impression. Directed by Derrick Sims, the documentary profiles Wairarapa-based photographer Brian Scadden and his enduring devotion to wet-plate collodion photography—a method that demands precision, patience, and a reverence for the image itself.
At first glance, one might expect the film to delve deep into the technicalities of 19th-century photographic methods. And while a few viewers may be left wishing for more time spent on the process itself, Sims has a different aim. He uses Scadden’s story to prompt deeper reflection on how we capture—and value—moments in an increasingly digital world.
Scadden’s journey into photography began in childhood with a simple Box Brownie camera, bought at a local garage sale. That early spark of curiosity matured into a lifelong practice. He embraced the wet-plate method over 40 years ago, at a time when almost no one else in New Zealand was using it. It was, and remains, a deliberate choice to step away from convenience and instead embrace complexity.
The film gently guides us through Scadden’s world, where creating a single photograph is a ritual that can take up to 20 minutes. The steps—from mixing chemicals to coating the glass plate, exposing the image, and developing it before the plate dries—demand full attention. In contrast, today’s culture allows for thousands of images to be captured, filtered, and deleted in seconds. That ease, Scadden suggests, has led to a loss of appreciation. We are taking more photos than ever before, but keeping fewer that truly matter.
One of the film’s most memorable metaphors compares the wet-plate photographer to a hunter with a single bullet. When you only get one shot, you pause, assess, and focus. You are intentional. In today’s world of endless digital ammunition, the value of the individual shot has been lost. This analogy echoes far beyond photography—it speaks to how we consume, create, and connect in the modern era.
Visually, Through a Glass, Lightly is understated but elegant. The cinematography complements Scadden’s quiet, measured voice. There are glimpses of his hands at work, the light bouncing off his glass plates, and the stillness of his studio—all serving to reinforce the contrast between the meditative pace of his practice and the restlessness of contemporary life.
What makes this documentary particularly effective is its refusal to overstate its message. It doesn’t lecture or linger. Instead, it invites viewers to sit with a thought: that perhaps something has been lost in the shift from permanence to impermanence, from substance to speed. That a slower, more intentional way of seeing might still have a place—even if only in a few hands.
That said, the brevity of the film may leave some viewers wanting more. Ironically, the documentary itself takes less than half the time it would take Scadden to create a single photograph using his chosen method. This may well be the point. The film embodies its message, showing how in just a few minutes, something meaningful can still be captured—provided we take the time to look.
Through a Glass, Lightly doesn’t try to be grand or sweeping. It knows its scope and keeps to it. But within that small frame, it captures something essential: a reminder of the care, patience, and intentionality that once defined the art of photography—and the subtle warning that, as technology accelerates, we may be leaving more than just old methods behind.
In the end, this is a quiet, thoughtful film. It doesn’t ask for much—just a few minutes of your time. But what it gives in return is a sense of stillness and reflection, something increasingly rare in a world of endless scrolling. A film for those who have ever paused to ask not just how we take pictures, but why.
Directed by Derrick Sims | 9 mins | New Zealand | English | New Zealand Short Category
Screening at the Doc Edge documentary festival, in Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch and online from 25 June.