Film Isn't Dead, It's Just Drinking an Almond milk Latte: The Real Truth About Analog Revival
- David Libby
- Mar 13
- 5 min read
When I started taking pictures, we didn't call it "analog." We just called it "photography." I spent decades in darkrooms breathing chemicals that probably took years off my life, meticulously timing developments, and hanging prints to dry like family laundry.
Then digital came along, promising freedom from all that mess. And like most photographers my age, I embraced it—marveling at instant results, unlimited "free" shots, and the ability to change ISO between frames.
Fast forward to 2025, and guess what sits on my desk? The same camera I reluctantly abandoned twenty years ago. Next to it: a small fortune in film stock, carefully stored in my refrigerator where my wife insists it's taking up valuable real estate meant for actual food.
But this isn't just nostalgia talking. At 66, I've earned the right to choose my tools based on what genuinely moves me rather than what's convenient or current. And what I've rediscovered in my return to film has surprised even me.
When the Student Becomes the Master (and Then the Student Again)
There's something peculiar about watching twenty-somethings discover film photography with the wide-eyed wonder of archaeologists unearthing an ancient civilization. They speak of grain structure and dynamic range with religious reverence, while I remember cursing those same limitations.
"You had to be so intentional back then," one young photographer told me recently, clutching his newly-acquired Pentax K1000—a camera model I used to consider entry-level.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that "intentional" was just what we called "not having any other choice."
But here's the strange part: He's not entirely wrong. And neither are the thousands of young photographers flocking back to film, driving up prices on cameras I once could have bought for the cost of dinner.
The digital revolution gave us remarkable tools, but somewhere along the way, some essential quality of photography became collateral damage. And it took returning to film for me to name what I'd been missing.
Film's Second Life: By The Numbers
The film resurgence isn't just anecdotal. Kodak Alaris reported a 15% year-over-year growth in film sales since 2020. Fujifilm has brought back discontinued stocks due to demand. Even Cinestill—a relatively new player that repurposes motion picture film for still photography—can barely keep products in stock.
Meanwhile, used film camera prices have skyrocketed. That Contax T2 point-and-shoot that sold for $200 in 2015? It's now commanding $1000+ on eBay. The humble Canon AE-1 that was practically given away a decade ago? Now it's presented in velvet-lined boxes at camera stores with price tags approaching a decent digital setup.
Film has transformed from obsolete technology to luxury good. And like all luxury goods, it's as much about identity as utility.
The Honest Truth About Why We Shoot Film
Let's be real for a moment. When I switched back to shooting primarily film, I told everyone it was about "the process" and "the unique look." Those weren't lies, exactly. But they weren't the complete truth either.
Here's what I didn't say:
I liked how the mechanical camera felt in my hands again—solid, purposeful, demanding
I felt a certain satisfaction from doing something the "hard way" again after years of digital convenience
The limitations gave me a ready-made excuse when images didn't turn out exactly as planned
Film photography in the digital age is, at least partly, a performative act. It's a statement: "I care more about the journey than the destination. I'm willing to sacrifice convenience for character."
Is that pretentious? Maybe a little. But it's also human. We're meaning-making creatures, and sometimes the meanings we make involve expensive hobbies that reconnect us with our past while separating us from the digital crowd.
The Real Benefits of Film (No, Really)
The most profound impact film had on my photography wasn't aesthetic but psychological. Film fundamentally changed my relationship with time and attention—or rather, it restored a relationship I had forgotten.
When each medium format frame costs roughly $2 (factoring in film and development), you develop a different relationship with the shutter button. You ask yourself: "Is this moment worth $2?" Often, the answer is no, and you simply experience the moment instead of capturing it.
The 36-exposure limit of a standard roll became a powerful editing tool—not after the fact, but before. I found myself taking fewer but more considered images. I began to pre-visualize more carefully, to wait for moments rather than manufacture them through volume.
And perhaps most valuably, film broke my reacquired addiction to immediate feedback. Without the ability to chimp at the LCD screen after each shot, I became more present, more attentive to what was happening in front of me rather than what had just happened on my sensor.
What Digital Photographers Can Learn (Without Selling a Kidney for a Leica)
The good news? You can embrace many of film's benefits without switching systems or taking out a second mortgage.
Here's how to think like a film photographer while shooting digital:
1. Impose artificial limitations Put a piece of gaffer tape over your LCD screen. Limit yourself to 36 shots per outing. Use a single prime lens. Constraints breed creativity, and voluntary constraints are the easiest to implement.
2. Slow down your editing workflow Wait a week before looking at your images. Let them "develop" in your memory before you see them again. This creates emotional distance and often results in more objective editing.
3. Embrace imperfection strategically Film photographers don't obsess over perfect sharpness or noise-free shadows. They accept—even celebrate—the character that comes from technical imperfections. You can do the same by relaxing your technical standards where they don't serve the emotional impact of the image.
4. Print your work The tangibility of physical prints provides the same satisfaction as film photographs. Seeing your images on paper rather than screens changes how you evaluate and connect with them.
5. Be more precious with your archives Film photographers tend to be meticulous about organizing and preserving their negatives. Apply that same care to your digital files. Create multiple backups, organize thoughtfully, and regularly revisit old work.
The Uncomfortable Truth About Analog Nostalgia
There's a certain irony in how we've romanticized the limitations of old technology. Most film photographers of my generation would have jumped at the chance to see their images instantly, to shoot thousands of frames without concern for cost, to change ISO between shots.
What we now see as charming constraints, we experienced as frustrating limitations.
Perhaps the most honest approach is to acknowledge that we're not really trying to recapture photography as it was, but rather creating a new hybrid practice that cherry-picks the elements of analog we find meaningful while conveniently ignoring the truly painful parts (like opening a film canister to discover the film wasn't properly loaded).
Finding Your Own Balance
I still shoot digital regularly. It's unbeatable for certain situations, and I'm not so stubborn as to deny myself its advantages. But film has reclaimed its place in my creative life, not as a nostalgic indulgence but as a distinct medium with its own voice.
The truth is, both approaches have value. Both can teach us something about seeing, about patience, about the relationship between technology and creativity.
The question isn't "film or digital?" but rather "what can each approach teach me about being more intentional, more present, more attentive to the world I'm photographing?"
Sometimes the answer involves expensive film and vintage cameras. Sometimes it's about finding the film mindset with modern digital tools. Either way, the goal remains the same: not better photographs, necessarily, but a more meaningful experience of making them.
And at 66, the quality of experience matters more to me than technical perfection ever could.
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