Coming Back to Film

Back in 2020, I went through a period where I was taking pictures all the time. It felt like a throwback to my early 20s, when I was shooting, developing, and scanning film on a near constant basis. I took every opportunity I could to hit the streets with my friends Lee, Bryan, and Al; arranged sessions with models; and even got over my fear of approaching strangers for spontaneous portraits. Looking back, this culminated in a run of consistent quality, producing some of my best pictures in years.

Despite this, I fell out of love with photography, and film in particular. My stockpile had begun to dwindle, and the price of new rolls forced me to explore alternatives such as bulk rolled cinema film – which I struggled to gel with. On top of that, it became increasingly expensive and difficult to source decent C41 chemicals to develop colour film in successfully due to global supply chain issues. Due to my proclivity for utilising vintage gear, I discovered that many of my camera bodies and lenses were at the stage where they badly needed servicing in order to operate properly. All in all, I got bored sinking money and time into a medium which often proved to be disappointing.

When I began to appreciate the importance of preserving moments again, I did so on digital. The Ricoh GR III and GX9 have proven themselves as incredibly capable portable options, and latterly I have re-established my affinity with the Leica M 240 in particular. With these, I genuinely wasn’t sure if I would ever shoot on film ever again.

However, in something of a surprising but perhaps inevitable twist of fate, that tide has inexplicably begun to turn. Once again I have found myself lured by the siren call of film, which scratches an itch that digital could never hope to. This isn’t just about the aesthetic (as unique and interesting as that can be), or any kind of misplaced nostalgia. Instead, it’s partly driven by a love of the cameras themselves, and the physicality of the process. Something about that infuses a tangible quality and importance to the captured memories that I can’t quite adequately articulate.

The pile of undeveloped spools that have sat gathering dust on my bookshelf for the past two years have finally began to embark upon their final journey, in no small part thanks to the inspiration of my pal Lee, who has been consistently shooting film over that same period. He recommended an independent lab in Glasgow called Gulabi, run by genuine film enthusiasts that process film, which just so happens to be a 15 minute walk from my flat. I knew about them already, but always felt loathe to spend what felt like an inordinate amount of money per roll on something that I could do myself in the house. As it stands though, the cost to develop a single roll of either 35mm OR 120 colour film is only a fiver. That is more than I would like to pay, but reasonable enough that I can justify occasionally sending batches of film off. Given that I don’t require scans or prints, this makes it a more economical option, particularly given the rising cost of Tetenal, and the hit rate versus time invested that I was experiencing previously.

The emergent pictures haven’t been anything particularly noteworthy; haphazard snapshots of holidays taken as an accompaniment to their digital counterparts on film which expired before some of the people that I now work with were born. However, in a way that is part of their charm. Rediscovering forgotten memories that I didn’t even know that I had captured, years later. I was even pleasantly surprised (again) at the quality of images that came from the objectively crappy BeLomo Vilia – a camera that looks like a kid draw it, but one which means so much to me that I have it tattooed on my arm.

The process of scanning the images has been rewarding in its own way as well. It always takes longer than I remember, but it forces me to slow down and really consider each frame – etching it further into my consciousness. It stretches out and imprints that moment of time in a manner that feels much more closely tied to my soul than just… flicking through hundreds of digital pictures and then forgetting about them.

What’s been interesting is that now I have a way to reliably get colour film processed, I’ve also felt inspired to shoot black and white stock again too – which I am still developing at home myself. It would of course be nice to be entirely self sufficient, but not having to faff about with water baths and extra flakey temperatures is nice.

The days where I would blithely shoot endless rolls of film in all sorts of conditions and expect to get reasonable, if not excellent results for a relatively low cost are long gone – and in all honesty I’ve been clinging onto that idea for a more extensive period than was ever reasonable. The truth is that shooting film requires consideration. Not just for the cliche reasons of framing a picture, but also for the cold hard fiscal reality. But… if you accept that, and embrace the medium as something that stands apart on its own – a luxury yes – but one distinct from the prolix of soul-less digital – then it can really be quite magical.

I am pleased that I have rediscovered the wonder of shooting film, and have something of a sustainable way of entertaining such an affliction. Hopefully over the coming months that will both sustain and grow, so that I can capture and share more snippets from my life, throwing them up into the ether for posterity.

I could have done without the reminder of what I looked like as a result of lockdown mind you.