Film photography is brutal. It does not care about your careful planning, your sentimental attachment, or the once-in-a-lifetime trip you took. It does not guarantee that your efforts will be rewarded. And sometimes, it takes everything from you in the most unforgiving way possible.
I developed three rolls of film. They came out completely blank. Nothing. Just empty, ghostly negatives.
At first, I went through the usual troubleshooting. Light leaks? No. Camera issue? No. The failure was universal across three different cameras. The real culprit? My developer. It had reached the end of its life, exhausted after nineteen successful rolls, even though the manual said it should last for twenty. I trusted the numbers. The numbers betrayed me.
And just like that, my entire photographic record of my trip to Brazil was gone. The days spent carefully composing shots, waiting for the right light, capturing fleeting moments that would never repeat, all erased. It’s one thing to lose a few casual snapshots; it’s another to lose these. Images that had survived manual inspections at airport security, x-rays, humidity, and travel. But they could not survive the chemistry in my own hands.
Film Photography Demands Resiliency
This is the side of film photography that no one wants to talk about. We love to romanticize the grain, the nostalgia, the craftsmanship. But what about the heartbreak? What about the moments when the process fails you, and you are left with nothing but regret?
And yet, this is exactly why film makes you stronger. It forces you to accept loss. It teaches you that crying over spilled milk won’t bring back what’s gone. It demands that instead of mourning, you analyze, you learn, and you move forward. Resiliency is not an option in film photography; it’s a requirement.
There is no instant gratification here. There is no safety net of automatic backups, RAW, recovery tools, or second chances. There is only what you did in the moment and the consequences of every decision that followed. And if you fail, you own that failure, because no machine will save you from it.
The Deliberate Act of Mastery
Film photography is not just about pressing a shutter. The deliberate actions extend far beyond that single moment. Loading the film correctly, metering the light, composing with precision, these are just the beginning. Developing is an equally delicate and intentional process. The chemicals, the timing, the temperature, all of it has to be right. And scanning? That’s yet another stage where the photographer is in full control.
This is why film photography is for good photographers. Because the very existence of a great film photograph means that among the countless things that could have gone wrong, everything went right. A beautiful film image is not an accident, it is proof of competence, patience, and mastery.
In digital photography, everything works by default. The camera handles exposure, focus, and white balance. The chaos is removed, controlled, predictable. But in film, chaos is the default. Every shot is a battle against imperfection, and when you succeed, it means something.
The First Post Without Film Photos
The irony is not lost on me, this is my first Substack post that won’t be filled with film images. Because I don’t have them. Instead, the photos illustrating this post were taken with a digital camera.
It feels like a failure. But I prefer to call it a lesson. A reminder that film is not kind. It does expect for you to be perfect, and it does not care about your expectations. Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to it, because when it does work, it’s worth every risk, every failure, and every lost frame. Each film photo is a celebration that you controlled the chaos.
I lost three rolls of film. I will never see those images. But I will develop again. And next time, I will not make the same mistake. Because film photography, at its core, is not just about capturing moments, it is about learning to let go of the ones that slip away.
Finally, here is a photo from my trip to Brazil, shot on iPhone (argh, I hate this). This is my friend
and I in front of the Municipal Theater in São Paulo. This theater has staged thousands of plays for the people who were there to enjoy. It’s not a cinema but a theater, so those who saw it, saw it; those who didn’t, won’t see it anymore, just like my films ruined and my very own eyeballs.
Resilience: Moving Forward Without Hesitation
Let me be clear: this will not bring me down. It will not shake my love for this process, nor will I let this emulsion play with my emotions.
Tomorrow, I am buying a new developer and developing five more rolls of film that are waiting inside my cameras. I refuse to let this setback define me. I am not easily defeated. If anything, this failure only makes me more determined to push forward, to refine my process, and to ensure that next time, I am even better. That's what film photography do with us.
It demands strength, and I am strong. I will not stop. I will not whine. I will master this craft, roll by roll, frame by frame, whatever it takes.
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