Almost a century after its invention, the analogue photobooth is experiencing a renaissance. A nostalgic alternative to the instant gratification of the iPhone selfie that has become synonymous with contemporary culture, Stills in Edinburgh has opened the only one in Scotland. With just 200 analogue photobooths surviving across the globe, amid a sea of digital knock-offs, its arrival has been hailed as some kind of miracle. Artists and influencers are flocking to it in the name of art and content respectively, which begs the question: in a capture-everything culture, where does analogue photography belong? 

Think of the photobooth as a miniature, curtained theatre, or even as a confessional. The bright, seductive light is an invitation to reveal all; be that bold and daring, silly or sexy. You have four shots to adopt an alternative persona, and what emerges from a mysterious chemical and mechanical process is a strip of inky, sepia-toned poses. There’s no preview, no filter: this is photography in its most immediate form. 

From the moment of its invention, the photobooth attracted the world’s most radical, avant-garde artists. In 1929, La Révolution Surréaliste published ‘I Do Not See The Woman Hidden In The Forest’, a collage comprising a painting of a naked woman by René Magritte surrounded by 16 portraits of male surrealists with their eyes closed. The story goes that surrealism founder André Breton convinced his contemporaries (Salvador Dalí included) to take these self-portraits in a photobooth, which he then used to frame the painting. In doing so, Breton reimagined the booth’s purpose, elevating it from a device for practical identification into a philosophical and artistic realm.

Following in the surrealists’ footsteps, artists across generations have adopted the photobooth as an investigative self-portraiture medium. For Andy Warhol, who is hailed for popularising the photobooth as an accessible art form, it epitomised instant celebrity and represented a clash between entertainment and self-indulgence. Cindy Sherman, now famous for disguised self-portraits, began experimenting in photobooths as a young student in the 1970s, as she inhabited alternate roles through costumes, wigs, make-up and props. 

As Warhol recognised, in the seat of such an accessible, alluring medium, there appears to be scarcely any distinction between what non-artists and artists can produce. In its democratisation of art, all it requires is an original idea and some coins in your pocket. Traditionally found in pubs or on street corners, by its nature, these curtained theatres attract the wandering soul, or the flaneur if you will. Open all hours, there’s not much in place to protect them from damage or drunken hook-ups. By contrast, Stills is intrigued to find out what visitors will produce in a serene gallery environment, where photographs by professionals hang as inspiration on the walls.

Before the news was revealed to the public, Stillsautomat stood hidden in plain sight waiting in the gallery foyer. Out of hours, Stills challenged artists to create strips for an exhibition to celebrate the machine’s public unveiling. The resulting collection features intriguing mug shots, artful nudes and still lifes that have been blown up for display. One stand-out is an intoxicating diptych by Daisy (@scottishdaisylove) who used a latex mask and gloves to simultaneously reveal and conceal parts of her identity. In the second shot, only her poised, gloved hand reaches into white space. 

Elsewhere, an anonymous creator is nowhere to be seen in the frame, as an eerie strip captures subtle shifts and movement in the curtain. But beyond the display, I’m told that the patron who funded Stillsautomat brought in a bunch of pears to capture, while an influencer cat (@weeposie), who probably has more followers than any of us, is due to make an appearance any day now. 

A quick search on social media reveals that the Stillsautomat is somewhat of an Edinburgh phenomenon. And although I’m guilty of making a huge fuss about it online, there’s something ironic about scrolling past a photobooth strip that cannot be deleted or retouched. Why would you destroy a keepsake that represents a fleeting moment in time? I can only imagine if it were disastrously unflattering or if you went through a break-up after snogging your lover in the booth.

Throughout the year, Stills hosts free exhibitions and low-cost production facilities that even Londoners travel up to use because it’s too expensive in the big smoke. But it’s no secret that the Scottish arts and culture sector is at a crisis point, which is partly why Stills had been in search of an analogue photobooth for a year, after development manager Caitlin Serey identified it as a possible constant income stream. Once the booth was located and restored, Stillsautomat travelled all the way from New York, its arrival in Edinburgh a shiny beacon of hope for Scotland’s creative scene. 

Stillsautomat, Stills, Edinburgh.