I’ve been shooting on film for five years now. Somewhere along the way, I realized that I hated shooting on film. Without a witness and without a performance, it required me to be fully present with my environment, my people, and most importantly, myself. Without a warning, every time the shutter releases I allow myself to free-fall into the arms of my technical abilities, my intuition, and the moment itself. For a long time, that terrified me. Five years passed, and I always felt dread waiting on those 36 scans. The frames were empty, no memories, no conversations, no humanity, just celluloid. It didn’t feel like me, I wasn’t present in any of these moments captured, so why even continue to shoot on film?
At the beginning of 2025, I realized I was lost. Nobody saw the complicated relationship I was having with film. And this was not just about 35mm, but filmmaking as a practice and a process. After years of learning the technicalities, exposure, lighting, composition, and even mechanics from 35mm works to feature films, I still was nowhere to be found. Yet, when all else failed, I still picked up my camera. It had always been by my side. It captured my surroundings. It led me to new places. It created memories. It taught me what it meant to have discipline in this medium. Its full potential was already showcased; I just had to catch up.
Nobody saw the transformation I was undergoing. A complicated relationship I had been in for so long, I finally decided it was time for me to put down the gloves. Without any fuss, I gave myself the space to listen and fully understand what was demanded of me. As I sifted through old stills, I realized that nobody saw the absence of soul in each frame except for me. The more I glided through the negatives, the louder they spoke. It wasn’t the space. It wasn’t the moment. It wasn’t the subject. It was just a tool, and I knew how to use it. The realization was clearer than ever. I no longer wanted to be a film photographer; it wasn’t me or who I wanted to become. More than ever, I just wanted to be human.
With that realization, I let go of my concerns regarding the technicality, the camera type, or even stock that I was using. For the first time, I leaned into what shooting on film demands, to be present and to be a presence. I focused on creating a space for myself and for others to be openly and unapologetically themselves. “The camera is just a witness,” I told myself. All year, I captured places and moments in parades, concerts, side-streets, backyards, beaches, anywhere with anybody that mattered. Now, these moments felt human, filled with memories and conversations, and a sense of existence that I had trouble catching in the past. Ever since then, I stopped holding my breath for the perfect photo because I was already living the perfect moment. In these 36 frames, I saw myself now with purpose, filled with humanity, living and recording life, surrounded by community. And if nobody saw us, at least we saw each other. We just let the film be a witness.
devonthedirector
https://www.instagram.com/devonthedirector/
Share this post:
Comments
No comments found