Newsletter

I send out a letter every other Sunday morning. It’s the place where notes from the field, half-finished thoughts about film stock, and the stories that don’t quite fit the blog all end up. No algorithm, no feed — just an email that lands in your inbox like a postcard from a friend who photographs old buildings for a living.

What to expect

This isn’t a blast of “new posts I published.” Instead, you’ll find:

• Behind-the-frame breakdowns. I walk through one photograph — the building, the light, the loaded film, and the decisions I made while the shutter was open. Often it’s an outtake that never made the portfolio.
• On‑location field notes. Raw thoughts jotted down right after a shoot: how a room smelled of cedar and old paper, the sound of a radiator, the one window that absolutely refused to cooperate with my meter.
• Film stock & gear reflections. Honest, long-term notes on how certain emulsions render peeling paint or polished marble. No sponsored reviews, just what I’m actually using and noticing after living with a film stock through multiple properties.
• Archive pulls. Sometimes I dig into a personal project from years ago — a farmhouse in Pennsylvania, a closed‑down theater — and share the contact sheets alongside what I’d do differently now.
• Occasional guest letters. Architects, historians, or other film photographers share a single image and the story it carries. Think of it as a quiet conversation between people who see buildings as more than walls.

Why sign up?

Because the most interesting parts of working with analog photography and architecture never make it to the glossy final images. The newsletter is where grain, time, and the personality of a place get the space to breathe. It’s also the best way to know when a longer essay drops on the site, or when I’m hosting a small print sale of outtakes — but honestly, most people tell me they stay for the Sunday morning reading.

The list is small, intentionally. I read every reply. If you’ve ever stood inside an empty house and felt like the walls might have something to say, you’ll likely find a kindred rhythm here.

How it works

Enter your email below (I use a minimal, privacy‑focused platform — no tracking, no nonsense). You’ll receive a short welcome note with a favorite photograph that never appeared anywhere else, and then the next letter will arrive on a Sunday.

You can unsubscribe any time, no hard feelings. I’d just rather you stayed because you actually want to read, not because you forgot to leave.

— Emily Krouse