Not long ago I was listening to one of my regular photography podcasts, “A Photographic Life,” which is hosted by Grant Scott, a British photographer whose impact might be greater as an art/creative director for major publications, lecturer, scholar, author and, of course, podcaster. The program is a 20-minute to one-hour blast of opinion and discussion anchored from Scott’s garage. Sometimes the show can wander a bit into the weeds, but, I find his rambles and monthly discussions with Bill Shapiro, the former editor-in-chief of LIFE magazine, on their topic of choice, informative and thought-provoking—because it’s not a show about gear.
Among the several topics in this July 15 podcast was analogue photography, and those that still claim it is “real” photography, as opposed to digital. Scott, in short, found that to be a ridiculous argument. I agree—as a person who uses film cameras regularly and develops the film. It’s dumb people still try to make the “film is better” point, because it’s simply not for any reason. The “argument” is now just clickbait: spend any time on social media in the photography circles and film evangelists abound. On Threads they’re particularly insufferable, and their criticism of digital is unhinged.
That bit of the podcast prompted me to look back to a blog post I started writing back in 2020 and never finished (a bad habit of mine for a while) that circled the same topic—re-reading it, I could see I was clearly bored with the “argument” then.
Still, my half-hearted unpublished piece made me think of what’s changed (sticking to photography here) in the five years since. One of my aging points with digital was that, while “cheap” to use, it was not an inexpensive investment for the professional or advanced amateur. Professional-level gear still ain’t cheap. In that timeframe, however, smartphone cameras (which were already pretty good then) have improved to the point where nearly anyone with a good eye for framing can make excellent professional-grade photographs, and, perhaps more importantly, editing software these days need not break the bank. Options abound. Even the basic photo-editing software included on smartphones and tablets gives one tremendous fiddling latitude. Filtering apps add more. I know some marketers who use an iPhone’s camera and video capabilities when required for much of their client work. That wouldn’t be my choice, but, that is a reality. As AI infiltrates further, it’s an easy prediction camera work via smartphone will become even more enhanced and compete even better with professional-grade gear.
More interesting (to me) is something tangential to the film vs. digital “debate”: the reportage about millennials and Gen Z-ers turning to film cameras (and other tactile items like vinyl records) to escape the digital and virtual environs in which they’ve been raised. I’ve always found that an extremely spongy interpretation of what’s going on.
I question whether the “return to film” is really a deep interest in film for the majority of those new to using analog cameras. Obviously, with film manufacturers increasing production of certain emulsions and formats, there is a market for film. But ask any tech at a film developing lab and they will tell you that they are awash with unclaimed negatives—most of the new film shooters don’t pick them up. They want the scans only, conveniently emailed or accessed, for their social media accounts and smartphone albums. Throw in the fact that aging digital cameras are now in hot demand by these same people and it could be argued the “return to film” seems to be just part of the hunger to handle all things retro, while still wanting the modern digital convenience to share the results as they would have taken a photo with their smartphone.
(And, while vinyl has made a comeback, streaming remains literally in everyone’s pocket, and every turntable produced these days has plug-and-digitize capability.)
Some history
I, like Scott, am of an age that when we became professionals in our publishing worlds, film was the only option. I wasn’t a photographer of Scott’s stature—not even close. I was a journalist at a small daily newspaper who decided to improve his camera skills when staff photographers were made scarce with cutbacks when the industry started consolidating in earnest for maximum profit. It took a while for digital technology to gain quality enough to replace the newsroom Canon SLR we passed amongst ourselves to enhance our stories, whether a feature on a local business owner or the latest dust-up at a city council meeting. With that film camera, we did our best to capture critical photos while writing furiously in our notebooks for the story. Then, at the meeting or event’s conclusion, we’d rush the film to the local lab at which we contracted (we had lost our darkroom as we downsized). If it was a familiar face in the shop, (it usually was) they’d prioritize our film knowing its timeliness. It was a pain-in-the-ass procedure. Once digital quality approached film, we embraced it. Simply put, it made our lives easier as our jobs grew increasingly more demanding.
In 2003 I moved from the daily newspaper to a gig at a business-to-business magazine publisher. I found the glorified point-and-shoot digital cameras available at my new job limiting—and not worthy of my words, frankly. I bought my first DSLR in 2007. Nothing too fancy: an Olympus E-Volt 510. It was with that camera I dove into learning full manual settings, including white balance, that I felt I couldn’t with film because of its cost (and I was literally learning on the job). Fast forward a decade and when I returned to my film cameras collected over the years, I was a much better photographer, and my re-learning curve with film—because of digital photography—was short and less expensive.
My “return to film” wasn’t for the aesthetic. I am a gear-head at heart—“gear-head” as I know the term, meaning one who likes to take a thing apart to see how it works and put it back together again. Many of those early cameras and shutters are amazing pieces of engineering, and I enjoy using them for that reason. (I own a 1951 Ford, too, but it’s not what I rely on day-to-day—certainly not for work.)
The chemical balance of an emulsion certainly can impact an image, as does one’s decisions in the darkroom. If one is simply shooting at box speed and not fiddling in the darkroom, however, the real “aesthetic” difference if one compares film and digital isn’t the film. It’s the lenses—particularly those used for medium and large-format. I’m not suggesting those older lenses are better, just different. Modern lenses are a marvel; automation allows them to be machined to remarkable consistency. Think about it—a common complaint from extreme film evangelicals is that modern lenses render too sharp, or that they don’t deliver a desired bokeh effect because they lack imperfection. News flash: there are remedies for those “problems.” There was a setting on my Canon 80D DSLR that would fool any expired- or Lomography-film user. Others to give a slight vignetting and/or a “random” focal point worthy of a Holga. (Full disclosure: I own a Holga 120N and use it fairly regularly, usually with Kodak Gold 200.) Further image work in Photoshop, Lightroom or other software isn’t cheating any more than the dodging and burning or other “manual” exposure modifications one does for a print in the darkroom.
All that typed, I’m not suggesting there’s anything hypocritical with a young’un (or anyone) who wants to put in their hands technology from the past, and not want the baggage of its output. Handling the object in a serious manner (i.e., learning how to work it) shows historical curiosity, something in dire need these days. I applaud that curiosity. Just respect the shop selected for film development, and pick up the damn negatives. If one is fully curious, the real point of film photography is to manipulate the negative, either via a scanner or darkroom printing (I use a scanner and Photoshop). Egads! That sounds like digital photography, too.
Directly to the point of “film vs. digital,” if anyone still reading this ramble cares: A few years ago I heard an interview with one of my favorite photographers, Clyde Butcher. His black-and-white landscape photos taken deep within the swamps of the Florida Everglades are, to me, powerful and mesmerizing. His method was decidedly old-school, hefting his large-format camera (up to a 12” x 20”) into waist- or chest-deep waters and other precarious swampy environs home to aquatic wildlife with large teeth. After focussing the image on the ground glass, he’d gently twist an orange filter onto the lens, then slide in a large film holder for the exposure, and pull the dark slide only when the light was right.
The interviewer asked a question relating to digital photography, and Butcher revealed he purchased a Leica M10 monochrome camera, which he loved, and used others also. “Light is light,” he said, matter of factly, adding that it doesn’t matter whether you’re capturing it with film or a digital sensor.
“Light is light.” That simple statement has stuck with me, as it cuts straight to photography’s essence: capturing light in a box.
The pendulum swings?
When someone asks me what film camera they should start with, I first ask what kind of photographer they are currently. If they are someone that just uses their iPhone (nothing at all wrong with that) but want to “learn how to use a real camera,” I say this: buy a used DSLR, paired with a decent used zoom lens. They can be bought at reasonable prices these days (even less than many film film cameras currently offered on eBay), as serious photographers shift to mirrorless systems. Then one can “learn how to use a real camera” without burning through film and the cost of development. There’s no need for an expensive prime lens—more fun and reward can be had starting out with a versatile zoom. (While I was still using a camera for work, I upgraded to that Canon 80D mentioned above. I used a Tamron 18-300mm lens 99-percent of the time.)
Who knows. I might not have to answer that question much anymore (it’s been a while). Just a few days ago I sat in a coffee shop writing some thoughts in a journal from the past week when I saw a young woman with long dark hair walk in with a camera slung over her shoulder. I would guess she was in her mid-20s. She wore jeans and T-shirt, revealing arms with no tattoos (a detail I find funny I note these days). She wore sensible shoes—i.e., ones for hoofing a distance—and carried with her a notebook. The camera was a Canon with a zoom lens. She sat a few tables away from me. When I got up to leave, I wanted walk over to ask if that was a film or digital camera (the generational research), but I did not. Being a tall, middle-aged man who some find intimidating, I am sensitive to the “creep” factor many women experience when sitting by themselves.
I bussed my table and by the time I walked through the front door she was right behind me. I held the door and as we stood waiting at the crosswalk, I asked, “Is that a film camera?”
She raised it, and I could see by its neatly squared body it was not—which she verified. “No, it’s digital. I just switched to mirrorless and I’m getting used to it.”
“Ah,” I said. “I got rid of my DSLR and went to mirrorless last year. It’s a bit of an adjustment looking through that digital viewfinder, and not just seeing the reflection through your glass.”
“Yeah,” she said. “But, I’m liking it.”
“Cool!” I said. “I do, too.”
