“Film photography has an irreproducible raw quality that cannot be emulated in digital photography, no matter how many Instagram filters you apply.”

Thanks to the ever-increasing quality of smartphone cameras, almost anyone can be a photographer these days. Few moments in our modern lives escape documentation via a million iPhone images. Later, these are scrutinized to select the one that perfectly captures ‘the moment’, smothering this photograph in filters and effects before plastering it all over social media. There is a pressure to edit out the imperfections of normal life, displaying only our finest moments. When I shoot film, I feel like I avoid this highlights-only mentality. I know that there is little that can be done in terms of editing the final photographs, so the shot truly captures the moment; the mood and emotion, as they are. Film photography has an irreproducible raw quality that cannot be emulated in digital photography, no matter how many Instagram filters you apply.

I began shooting analogue photography three years ago, after a long stint with cheap disposable cameras bought at my local pharmacy. I now have five different cameras, a mix of 35 mm and APS. There is a magical quality to having a limited number of shots that you cannot review straight away, that sets film photography apart from the hordes of smartphone cameramen. I love the anticipation of getting a roll of film developed. Often, I will only take one (maximum two) shots of the same subject. Film photography does not enable the same post-production possibilities as its digital alternative. Sure, small adjustments can be made to the resolution, saturation, exposure – but the options are limited, allowing the images to retain an unprocessed, vintage essence, characteristic of the #FilmIsNotDead trend.

Far too many times, I have received images back to find that they are over- or underexposed, out of focus, or damaged by light leaks. Shooting film has become an exercise in taking risks and learning to take failure in your stride. Unlike with digital photography, there are not a hundred different shots of the same image to choose from, and images cannot be salvaged through Photoshop. Taking good film photographs, be it on 35 mm or 120 mm, APS or other, is a completely different skill to producing great digital images – both impressive in their own right.

“Shooting film has
become an exercise in taking risks, and learning to take failure in your stride.”

Though I am no analogue aficionado, I do love to experiment with new styles and projects. During lockdown, I have lacked the motivation to keep shooting, knowing that I would not be able to develop the film until the local photo labs reopen. Last week, after a late-night insomnia-induced YouTube binge, I was presented with a resolution. Why not try to develop my film at home? I had seen countless videos of photographers doing this online, so why not give it a go myself? After a little more research, I decided that it would be a good experiment to both spark creativity and prevent boredom. I began ordering the necessary equipment.

When you send film to a lab, there are two stages to obtaining the nice, clean images that they send you back. First, a series of chemicals are used to transform the latent shots into visible negatives. Once developed, these must be scanned and inverted. This produces the colour (or black and white) image that you would typically receive digitally or as prints. Performing these stages at home required a little Amazon-ordering, and a lot of imagination. Forestalling my disappointment in ruining some high-quality photographs in my first attempt at development, I set about shooting an entire roll of images documenting the boredom and mundanity of my lockdown routine. Whilst I waited for my developing tank and pre-diluted chemical kit to arrive, I used my daily exercise outing to go on walks or cycles with my camera in tow. Despite what I told myself, I knew I would be disheartened if the process was unsuccessful and the images could not be recovered. Almost religiously, I revised the developing process through video tutorials and internet How-To guides.

I am, in no way, a professional photographer. In fact, I am barely an amateur. Despite my love of film photography, my resources and experience are limited, making this process even more intimidating. Unsurprisingly, my semi-detached family home in South London lacks a darkroom, so I set about fashioning one from a cardboard box and some black cloth. After carefully practising loading old film into a reel inside the box (without being able to see what I was doing), I decided to bite the bullet. I encountered several impediments throughout the process, including not being able to open the film canister with a bottle opener, as YouTubers had done with such ease, and not having a thermometer to monitor the temperature of the chemical baths. Still, I remained determined to succeed.

Finally, eight frantic hours later, I had some developed and dried negatives hanging above my bathtub. After chopping them into neat strips, I scanned them into Photoshop for inversion, using yet another cardboard contraption for a lightbox. After all: reduce, reuse, recycle. Admittedly, the images were not perfect, nor as high quality as Snappy Snaps could achieve. However, for a first attempt, I was impressed and felt a sense of pride in my work. More than just succeeding in not bleaching my film to death, I had tried something new, overcoming obstacles along the way. I had created something cool and surpassed my own expectations. Most importantly, I hade used up a whole two days of quarantine, without feeling bored even once.

The disruption to our usual routines can arouse anxiety and, at times, leave us feeling lost. With the uncertainty that faces our world at present, it is entirely normal to lack motivation and feel unproductive. Though I love projects like developing my own film, I am not immune to the need for a three-day bed-bound Netflix binge. It is a fine line between finding new ways to entertain yourself at home and listening to your mind and body. But trying something new, particularly something of a creative nature, can act as a mood booster and a distraction from all the bad news. Getting creative can serve as a form of meditation or mindfulness to relax your brain if you feel stressed or anxious. Pick up your camera, your paintbrush, your sewing kit, finish that project you never got around to starting. The world is your oyster, the sky is the limit. And you really can learn just about anything on the internet.

Film is not dead: An analogue revolution and staying creative in lockdown

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