When motorsport and automotive photographer Jamey Price first saw a 1990s NASCAR-branded plastic film camera on another photographer's social media feed, he knew he had to have one.

'These cameras were never made to take outstanding photos,' says Price laughing. 'They were inexpensive, poorly made, and plastic. The winders break. The shutter stops working. One froze to death in below zero temperatures in Canada. But they also capture magic.'

It's perhaps not what you expect to hear from a Motorsport Photographer of the Year (2019) used to shooting with precision-engineered digital gear and lenses as long as his torso. Armed with this unlikely tool, a cheap reloadable camera sold at NASCAR races over 25 years ago, Price decided to document an entire year of motorsport with it. The result is his new photobook, Racing Unfiltered, a gloriously imperfect, film-grain love letter to racing's people and places.

Before becoming a motorsport photographer, Jamey Price spent seven years as a National Hunt jockey. After graduating from a small liberal arts college in Kentucky, he moved to England to pursue a career in horse racing. 'I didn't have a girlfriend or a job lined up, so I decided to take a shot at it,' he recalls. Based near the market town, Leyburn, he rode out for various trainers, spending time across North Yorkshire, the Cotswolds near Cheltenham, and even a month in Ireland. 'I loved being out in the middle of nowhere. I spent zero time in London,' he says. Though on the taller side for a jockey, Price, now 38, relished the experience: 'It was a fun time in my life. I loved it. That was several lifetimes ago. From horses to horsepower, as I like to say.'

From the 24 Hours of Le Mans to Formula 1, IMSA, Monterey Car Week and beyond, Price carried one of these toy-like cameras everywhere. 'Originally, I just wanted to post a few fun film photos on Instagram,' he says. 'I'd never shot film for any of my work. But people kept asking, what are you doing with all these pictures? Eventually, I realised they were a way to remember my year, my favourite memories of racing, seen differently.'

As a professional motorsport photographer, producing pin-sharp digital work for manufacturers, sponsors and drivers. This, he says, was the opposite: 'They're not quality pictures. They're not what I deliver to clients. They're just little moments that feel real.'

He bought around fifteen cameras and breaking about half. Each is decorated with a vintage NASCAR hero including Jeff Gordon, Rusty Wallace and the man with the must have moustache, Dale Earnhardt Sr. Price learned to coax each brittle plastic camera through a few rolls before it inevitably died. 'They're not disposable, you can reload them,' he explains. 'That's the only reason this project was possible.'

With a fixed lens somewhere between 40 and 50mm and no manual control, each camera is a lottery. 'There are no settings, no flash. You can't change a thing. The only control is what film you load and where you stand,' Price says. 'They have a fairly slow shutter speed, so if you're not holding it perfectly still, it's soft but that softness can work to your advantage. It's like a natural pan.'

Early on, he realised that trackside action wasn't the camera's strength. 'The cars are just too far away. Where it really excels is in the paddock, when crews are prepping the cars, or in the pit lane. That's where the intimacy comes through.' Learning the quirks became part of the fun. 'You don't even know if you've taken a picture. The shutter's sticky, you have to really push it. But that's part of the charm.'

Among the hundreds of frames he shot, one stands out. 'There's a shot of Fred Vasseur, the Ferrari Formula One team principal, making a funny gesture in pit lane. It's perfectly sharp and on that little film camera! I'm almost prouder of that than anything I shot digitally.'

Another favourite came during the Miami Grand Prix, when Daniel Ricciardo spotted Price's Dale Earnhardt-themed camera. 'He said, wow, that's cool. He climbed out of the car to have a look. We bonded over it, two people who love photography, sharing a moment in the middle of Formula One.'

These fleeting, unposed, often imperfect moments capture the human side of a sport usually dominated by precision and polish.

Though Racing Unfiltered began as a personal project, there's an underlying philosophy where Price jabs an elbow in the ribs of the racing establishment and to show it's not about the gear. 'You don't need a £10,000 camera to make a great photo,' admits Price.

As someone who shoots with the latest high-end digital bodies, Price knows how seductive technology can be. 'Some of the best racing pictures ever made weren't shot in the last 20 years with crazy autofocus systems. They were made with skill, timing and light. That still matters more than megapixels.'

After years of near-constant travel, around 28 to 30 weeks a year on the road, the project also reconnected him with photography's playful side. 'It's a reminder to have fun. Pick up a camera, any camera and just shoot.'

Over twelve months, Price ran around 80 to 100 rolls of film through the cameras, covering 28 events. 'Fuji 400 has worked best,' he says. 'It's inexpensive and reliable. I've tried Portra 800 and Cinestill 800T for night races, but you can't tell a huge difference, the camera's the limiting factor, not the film.'

He gets the negatives processed at Biggs Camera, a film lab in his hometown of Charlotte, North Carolina. 'Sometimes I drop them off Monday morning and have the scans back that afternoon. They've been amazing.'

For all its spontaneity, the book came together smoothly. 'I wasn't approached for it, people just kept asking what I was doing with the pictures. So I decided to make something tangible. It's not an iconic-moment type of book, it's my year, unfiltered.'

Even brands known for their strict image control, such as Ferrari, didn't object. 'There's been no pushback at all,' he says. 'It's such a low-fi look that it's not even on their radar.'

Racing Unfiltered is more than nostalgia. It's a statement, a counterpoint to the perfectionism of modern digital photography and the hyper-controlled world of motorsport media. The resulting images, grainy and unpredictable, feel closer to what being there actually looks like: sweaty, noisy, human.

'It's cost money, the film, the developing but it's been worth it,' says Price. 'A few of the reels I posted on Instagram went viral. People seem to connect with the imperfection.' Not everyone, quite a few people on social media angrily told Price that it's both a waste of film and his unique access to use these cameras and their poor quality on such high-end subjects, and he should get a proper film camera.

During the last race for 2024, in typical fashion with these cameras, Price had three rolls that worked. And one full roll that didn't load properly and was blank. 'It sucks. Definitely some fun images that are gone forever. But such is film life. I don't know if I'll do a second one,' he grins, 'but I haven't stopped. It's still fun.'