The Timeless Appeal of Shooting Film in a Digital Age

Every time I load a roll of film into a camera, I’m reminded that photography doesn’t have to be instant. Film slows me down. It asks me to notice the small things, the way light bends around a corner, the pause in a stranger’s step, the silence of an empty street.

Digital photography is extraordinary, but film still feels different. It’s less about chasing perfection and more about accepting imperfection: the scratches, the dust, the frames I didn’t quite expose right. Those imperfections are proof that the image came through my hands, through a physical process, not just a screen.

Shooting film also means living with delay. You don’t know what you’ve captured until days, weeks, sometimes months later. That wait feels like part of the art. It’s anticipation, memory, and surprise rolled into one.

And then there’s the ritual: loading the film, winding the lever, hearing the click of the shutter. It’s tactile, grounding, and almost meditative. When I develop my own rolls, especially using experimental methods like eco-developers or film souping, the process feels even more alive.

The chemicals leave their trace, nature interferes, and no two negatives are ever the same.

In 2025, when endless streams of instant imagery surround us, shooting film is my way of slowing down and paying attention. It’s a reminder that photography is not just about the image, it’s about the act of seeing.

That’s why I still shoot film.

Lincoln, shot on expired Solaris film