Returning to Film
After fifteen years of digital photography, I bought a medium format film camera. Here's what I've rediscovered about slowing down.
I remember the exact moment it happened. I was reviewing a day's work—800 digital frames from a single afternoon shoot—and felt nothing. The images were technically proficient, properly exposed, well-composed. And completely devoid of soul.
That night, I ordered a Hasselblad 500CM.
The Weight of Intention
Film demands something that digital forgives: intention. With 12 frames per roll, every press of the shutter becomes a commitment. You can't spray and pray. You must see, compose, wait, and then—only then—make the exposure.
This constraint, far from limiting creativity, has liberated it. When you can't take 800 photographs, you must take the right 12.
Rediscovering Process
Developing film is meditation. In the darkroom (yes, I still use one), time moves differently. The red safelight transforms the space into something womb-like, protective. The chemistry has its own rhythm—develop, stop, fix, wash.
Each step is irreversible. There is no Ctrl+Z.
"A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know." — Diane Arbus
The Joy of Waiting
Digital photography is instant gratification. Capture, review, adjust, repeat. But there's something lost in that immediacy—the anticipation, the uncertainty, the genuine surprise when negatives reveal their secrets.
Last month, I shot a portrait series on Portra 400. Three weeks later, when the developed negatives arrived, I'd almost forgotten the specific moments. Viewing them felt like receiving letters from my past self.
Some images were exactly as I'd envisioned. Others surprised me entirely. A few exceeded anything I could have planned.
Not Nostalgia, but Necessity
This isn't about romanticizing the past or rejecting technology. My digital cameras remain essential tools. But film has taught me something valuable: not every moment needs to be captured, but every capture must be meaningful.
Integration, Not Replacement
Now my practice includes both. Digital for client work, for experiments, for quantity when quantity matters. Film for personal projects, for important moments, for when I want the process itself to be part of the art.
The tools don't define the artist. But choosing the right tool for each intention—that's where mastery begins.