The Unexpected Magic of Film Photography: Glen Snyder’s Konica FTA and the Sai Kung Sunset
The Unexpected Magic of Film Photography: Glen Snyder’s Konica FTA and the Sai Kung Sunset
(This is the story behind the photograph—a glimpse into the moment, the process, and the vision that brought it to life.)
A 1968 Konica, a roll of film, and a perfect sunset—sometimes, that’s all you need.
Film photography is slower, unpredictable, and demands patience. But that’s exactly what makes it special. Glen Snyder, understands this better than most. His work is built on precision and presence.
That’s why, when he landed in Hong Kong with his Konica FTA, he wasn’t chasing the perfect shot. He was just looking, waiting, and letting the city unfold in front of him.
Sai Kung Pier gave him that moment. The light was right, the scene was set, and all he had to do was press the shutter.
He wouldn’t see the result for weeks—but that’s the beauty of film.
Waiting isn’t a downside. It’s part of the process.
Snyder’s story is about seeing differently, slowing down, and trusting your instincts.
In a world of instant results, film photography offers something rare: the chance to appreciate what you don’t yet know.
A Moment on Sai Kung Pier: Glen Snyder’s Journey with the Konica FTA
The sun hung low over Sai Kung Pier, casting a golden glow across the harbor. Fishing boats bobbed gently on the water, their colors softened by the evening haze. The pier, a hub of energy in Hong Kong’s coastal district, was alive with the hum of conversation, the scent of fresh seafood drifting from nearby restaurants. Among the visitors that evening was Glen Snyder, a Texas-born photographer who had spent the past decade in Japan. A geochemist by profession and a Zen priest by training, Snyder had long been drawn to photography as a way to see the world with precision and mindfulness.
This particular evening, he carried his Konica FTA, a camera he had acquired nearly a year earlier at the Matsuya Camera Fair in Ginza. “I found a Konica FTA with a 50mm lens for 10,000 yen,” he recalls. “I’d always liked Hexanon lenses for their pastel-colored bokeh on mirrorless digital cameras, so this seemed like a good deal.” What he didn’t realize at the time was that this 1968 model had been revolutionary in its era—one of the first 35mm focal plane cameras to feature both TTL metering and auto-exposure. “It was a challenge, though. The camera originally used mercury batteries, which are no longer available. I had to find modern alternatives to get the meter to work properly.”
By January 2025, that same camera was slung over his shoulder as he arrived in Hong Kong for a work conference. His approach to the trip was intentional—one camera, six rolls of film, and a commitment to shooting only in color. “I wanted a Wong Kar Wai aesthetic,” he says, referencing the filmmaker known for his atmospheric, neon-lit imagery. Though photography had always been part of his life, the COVID-19 pandemic had given him the time and space to fully re-engage with it, exploring both digital and film formats. This trip was a chance to step beyond his familiar surroundings in Japan and see what the streets of Hong Kong would reveal.
By the time he reached Sai Kung, his film was already half-spent on morning commutes, crowded trains, and the dynamic contrasts of the city—gleaming skyscrapers against timeworn alleyways. But this moment on the pier stood out. The sun was setting, casting a warm, cinematic light. One of the trip’s guides stood before him, the reflection of the sky caught in her eyes. Without hesitation, he lifted the Konica and pressed the shutter.
“I knew it was going to be a good shot the second I took it,” he reflects. “Of course, I wouldn’t see the results for two weeks until I developed the film back in Japan.” The photograph, captured on Kodak Ultramax 400, bore all the hallmarks of what he had hoped for, the soft, nostalgic blur of the background, the octagonal traces of the aperture blades shaping the highlights, and the gentle imperfection of slightly blown-out highlights. “The lighting was a bit bright, but I don’t mind. It adds to the feeling.”
For Snyder, photography is an extension of his dual background in science and Zen. As a geochemist, he understands the chemistry of film and light; as a Zen priest, he embraces the patience and presence the medium requires. “Most of my photography happens in my hometown in Japan, but stepping into a new place with no expectations forces you to see differently,” he says. Even in an era of instant digital feedback, he finds the waiting process intrinsic to the art. “It’s different when you don’t know what you’ve captured until later. You take the shot, trust your instincts, and then you wait.”
As he left Hong Kong, he carried back not just rolls of film, but a renewed appreciation for the city’s photographic potential. “This is a place I need to return to,” he muses. “The opportunities are everywhere—you just have to be ready to see them.”
Glen Snyder
Glen Snyder (a.k.a. Isshinglen) is a native Texan who has lived in Japan for the past 10 years. He has worked as a university geochemist as well as a Zen priest. The COVID pandemic proved an opportunity to get back photography, both in digital and film. (Website, color Instagram, b&w Instagram)
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