My name is Cole Kraten, and I’m a film photographer from the San Francisco Bay Area.
Though it once was, photography is no longer my job. I've chosen to never again make a dollar off my photos. The art in this portfolio is born purely from my love of the craft and the deeply human need to create and express. In line with this philosophy, all of my work is publicly available to view, download, share, reuse, and inspire.
My work is varied, but much of it focuses on scenes of man-made environments, devoid of people. Like all art, these scenes will appear different to everyone, but in me, they evoke a strong and nonspecific feeling; somewhere between nostalgia, sonder, and chrysalism. The artists who have inspired my work no doubt number in the thousands, but a few names have had more notable influence than others. As such, if you like my work I encourage you to seek out the phenomenal images of Ezra Stoller, Todd Hido, Edward Hopper, Vivian Maier, Alexey Titarenko, Dianne Arbus, and the legendary Robert Frank.
My Story
I suppose everyone has a story about how they got to where they are. My journey into photography began in a child's fascination with his parent's camera. As a kid, I seemed far more interested in capturing moments than being in them. This curiosity, well encouraged by my parents who bought me my first DSLR, eventually led me to pursue freelance photojournalism in my early teens. Many kids got their first job delivering the local paper, but my first job was taking photos for it. Banking on the fact that I looked older than I was, I started shooting local events and then selling the photos off while lying about my age to three different newspapers; more often than not for cash under the table as a freelance stringer. At first, this work was super fun. It was a formative period and provided me with my first real glimpse into the world of professional photography, but all that glitters is not gold. Eventually, after branching out into doing product and event photography, I faced a challenge that is all too familiar to people who have turned their passion into a job; “How do you keep the magic of the hobby alive when your art is now dictated by deadlines & clients you can't control?” I didn't have an answer to that, so for years my enjoyment behind the lens dwindled, as I started accepting the fact that photography had become just a way to make money. That is, until a chance encounter led me to owning a 1956 Yashica-A. This camera was old, well-worn, deeply unremarkable and its 80mm Yashimar f3.5 lens was partially fogged with fungal growth from having been stored improperly. For all of it’s flaws, it was my first foray into film photography, which by surprise, rekindled a passion I had only felt waning for years. It snowballed from there. Spurred on by my love of mechanical things, I started collecting vintage cameras and restoring them. The collection got larger, and I learned more about how to properly work with the eccentricities of the medium. The more I learned to work with film the more my style began to evolve with that character as a central element. Film photography grew from a part-time interest into the thing I spent most of the week looking forward to, always itching to get to that photo trip on the weekend.
In 2020, during the throws of the pandemic, a series of personal misfortunes, and my own fight with depression; I turned back to film photography in a desperate attempt to find and focus on beauty in a world that seemed increasingly bereft of it. It helped remind me that sometimes, the simplest acts, like appreciating good light can do a lot to lift your spirits and shift your perspective. At the risk of sounding a tad dramatic, it got me through a really rough period and it wouldn't be untrue to say that throwing myself into my art, and focusing on finding things to admire at least in part, saved my life.
My portfolio is an honest reflection of this journey. It is not just a collection of images, but a narrative of finding beauty in everyday moments and the therapeutic power of this craft. I invite you to view my work, and I hope it can bring you even a small portion of the joy it has brought me.