I get this question a lot from friends and family when they see me using cameras as old as my grandparents. I usually just say, “Because I like it.” But the truth runs deeper. It’s not something I can explain in a couple of lines.
My First Camera Was Digital
Just to be clear: I haven’t always shot film. When I started working and could finally afford my own gear (back in 2007), digital point-and-shoots were all the rage—what we now call digicams. I still remember my first Sony Cybershot fondly.
Back then, I had no idea film was even still a thing. And coming from a fresh-out-of-college software engineering mindset, I was 100% digital, through and through. There was no room for “old tech.”
The First Time I Tried (and Quit)
I got into film photography in 2022, but gave up a year later. I wrote about that journey in more detail in another post.
Losing the Spark (and Finding It Again)
By 2025, I hit a personal photography slump. My old Fuji X-T1 (with manual lenses—I’ve never liked autofocus) was still performing well, but something felt off. Taking a photo and instantly seeing it on a screen felt too easy. Too fast. Just like everything else in the digital world.
I’d fill memory cards with images I never even looked at. The nostalgia for film kept building until, one day in March, I finally stopped fighting it and admitted to myself: analog photography is what truly excites me.
Ink-Stained Hands, Tired Eyes
The signs had been there. The year before, I tried to learn how to draw. I bought all kinds of inks and fountain pens. Discovered the endless world of specialty paper. Even gave watercolors a shot—total disaster.
But I realize now it was my brain craving something hands-on. Something slow. Something meaningful. A process where, no matter the result, I could say: this was mine.
The Comeback
That’s why I returned to film. After nearly fifteen years working with cutting-edge tech, carrying smartphones with superpowers, and using tablets that feel like magic, I was done with screens. I was tired of instant everything.
I shoot film because it’s analog. Because it forces me to slow down and really see. Because having a limited number of shots makes me better—or at least more intentional. And because it’s a process I’ve learned to own from start to finish.
Before coming back, I knew this had to be more than a phase. I’d need to learn to develop, scan, edit, and catalog (still working on that last one). But it made me happy.
It’s Not Always Pretty
Coming back wasn’t smooth. In 2022, I gave up after tons of frustration—with my gear, with the process, with not getting the results I wanted.
Even now, I still hit bumps. Low-ISO film looks beautiful… until the light drops and the day’s done. (That’s why I stick to 400 or 800 speed lately.) And yeah, sometimes my Leica III makes me wonder if I loaded the roll properly. That doubt never fully goes away.
Sure, there are other annoyances. But none of them come close to ruining what I get out of this.
Scanning Is My Quiet Place
There’s something deeply satisfying about scanning my own film. I go frame by frame, and it never gets old watching the image slowly appear on screen. I always cross my fingers, hoping for one that’s well-exposed and worthy.
It reminds me of advent calendars—every frame holds a little surprise.
I’ve also never enjoyed spending hours editing digital photos. So I pick film stocks that get me close to the look I want straight out of the scanner, especially those delicious black-and-whites I love so much.
A Medium That Refuses to Die
I love analog photography because it refuses to die. It doesn’t matter how good phone cameras get or how advanced mirrorless systems become—if someone out there keeps making film, I’ll keep shooting it.
Film photography is my way out. Out of a digital world where everything feels disposable.
I don’t want thousands of photos sitting on memory cards.
I want memories.
I want to look at a picture and remember exactly where I was when I pressed the shutter.
Am I Romanticizing It? Maybe.
Some people say I’m romanticizing my hobby. And maybe I am. Maybe not. We all have our own backstory, and it shapes what we care about now.
If I weren’t in tech, maybe I’d be writing about why I love digital photography and using a Fuji X-T5. But with my screen fatigue and this hunger to create something that feels more lasting, more human—well, here I am. Smiling at my old Leica III sitting on my desk.
What’s Next?
There are a few goals on the horizon. They won’t be easy, but you never know.
First, I’d love to get a medium format camera—ideally a Rolleiflex. My main obstacle is scanning. I don’t want to buy another scanner just for 120, and my Plustek only does 35mm. Plus, I live in a tiny apartment, like most people in big cities.
Second, I’d love to build a darkroom. The dream? Buy an enlarger and just start playing with prints. The reality? I have no space. Unless I move, it’s a tough one.
Third, I want to make zines. Mexico is full of culture and stories worth telling. It’s a photogenic country in every sense.
Last on the list: bulk loading. I want to shoot more—because practice matters. But film is expensive, and prices keep rising. I’m not complaining, just stating facts. So I’d like to get a bulk loader and see how that goes.
Film’s Not Going Anywhere
Film photography gave me the hobby I didn’t know I needed. After failing at drawing and painting, I needed something where I could feel competent—and motivated to keep going. I look at my photos today versus a year ago, and I can see real growth.
I’ve been collecting photography books to stay inspired and learn from the greats. I don’t plan to go pro (meaning, getting paid to take pictures). I’m afraid it would change what photography means to me. I’d rather sell a print or zine here and there than turn this into a job.
And no, everything’s not perfect. Sometimes I will lose photos. But honestly, expecting perfection from 70-year-old cameras is unrealistic.
For now, I’m all in. I’ll keep enjoying the process. Keep carving out little escapes during the week. Keep stepping away from the screens—one frame at a time.
