Imagine discovering an incredible collection of photographs from the 1980s—images capturing legendary Formula 1 moments—that have never been seen as standalone artworks until now. That's exactly what recently happened to a vintage F1 photographer, whose work has finally been transformed into museum-quality prints, decades after he clicked the shutter. But here's where it gets controversial... the process wasn’t straightforward, especially considering how photographs were stored and processed back then, and it raises questions about the preservation of historical photographic materials.
Henry Pang, a talented photographer who worked during the thrilling 1980s era of Formula 1, shot stunning images of racing icons like Ayrton Senna and his fierce rivalry with Alain Prost. These pictures have been cherished by collectors and fans alike, but until recently, they remained in the form of color transparency slides—compact, positive images designed primarily for magazine printing using the CMYK process, not as ready-to-hang photographs.
Henry's son, Jeffrey Pang, runs a well-loved car drifting YouTube channel (https://www.youtube.com/@run_jeff), where he recently created a short documentary about his favorite car, a Porsche 911. During this film, some of Henry’s historic F1 photos made an appearance, sparking a demand among viewers for physical prints of these iconic images. And this is the part most people miss—turning old slides into large, high-quality prints isn’t as simple as pressing a button.
Back in the 70s, 80s, and 90s, most professional press photos were created using a process called color separation, which involved making positive transparencies—essentially slides—that could be projected, scanned, or printed. Henry explains in a YouTube video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHsMoxv_DCI) that prior to digital photography, these transparencies were the standard for producing high-quality photo prints in magazines, meaning most of his work was stored in this format.
Fast forward to today: if Jeffrey wanted to produce actual prints from his father’s slides, he faced a significant challenge. The original materials required for directly printing on photographic paper, specifically designed for positive transparencies, have been discontinued long ago. While printing negatives directly onto paper remains possible, converting positive transparencies into digital files for printing requires scanning.
Jeffrey initially took the slides to a photographer friend named Vince, who attempted to scan them using a flatbed scanner. The results, however, were disappointing—fine for sharing on Instagram, but insufficient for large-scale, high-quality prints because flatbed scanners lack the resolution needed for such detailed reproduction. Specialized scanners, whether flatbed or drum-style, do exist and can produce vastly superior results, but these are rare and often prohibitively expensive.
Fortunately, Henry, who clearly has a knack for photography, suggested a clever solution: using his professional-grade Nikon D800 camera equipped with a 55mm macro lens. With this setup, he meticulously photographed each slide, using a slide holder, a copy stand, an external shutter release, a lightbox, and an extension tube—all tools that help in capturing high-resolution images with precision.
This process is time-consuming because each photo requires manual focusing and setup, but the quality far exceeded expectations. The resulting digital images preserved intricate details—such as the disturbed airflow around a racing car’s wake—that flatbed scans could never reliably capture.
Among these extraordinary images are candid moments of Ayrton Senna, the three-time Formula 1 World Champion, engaged in conversation with engineers, his face expressive of intense concentration—visuals that truly bring the racing legend to life.
Once digitized, the next step was to transform these images into physical prints. Jeffrey visited a Toronto-based lab called Foto Box, where they use traditional chromogenic printing technology. This process involves exposing light-sensitive photographic paper directly to images in a manner similar to how enlargers work in developing darkroom photos. After exposure, the paper undergoes chemical development, rinsing, and drying—an old-school yet beautifully tactile process that produces vibrant, archival-quality photographs.
Despite not being a professional photographer himself—since his passion is cars—the satisfaction Jeffrey felt upon holding those prints was evident. He enjoyed sharing the tangible fruits of their effort with his dad, knowing that these images would now serve as timeless memorabilia.
Interested in owning a piece of this racing history? You can purchase one of these original prints through this link (https://www.run-ms.co/).
And if you think about it, stories like Jeffrey and Henry's aren’t only about preserving images—they’re about safeguarding a visual history that might otherwise fade away, lost in the era of digital storage and obsolete materials. This story echoes other recent discoveries, like that of Jack Smith, who unearthed 80,000 slides taken by his grandfather, revealing a hidden trove of travel memories that deserve to be rediscovered and celebrated. So, here’s a question for you: How important is it to preserve photographic history in its original form, and what are your thoughts on modern digitization methods—are they enough, or should we strive to keep old processes alive? Share your views below!
