The Long Way Home from a Photograph

Why Do We Still Do This?

I’m back home. After 8.5 hours of driving and sitting in traffic, the van’s unpacked, the mountain of washing drying, and reality is slowly settling back in. Alongside the gear sits the real weight of the trip: nine film holders, 18 sheets of 4x5, and four rolls of Kodak Gold. All exposed. All waiting.

And that means one thing: a lot of developing, for me.

I don’t mind developing film—most days, I even enjoy it. There’s something meditative about the process, the smell of the chemicals, the slow reveal. But there are also days, like today, where it feels like a mountain. I look at the holders and rolls and think: Five, maybe six sessions… when am I going to find the time?

It’s not quick. It’s not convenient. It’s definitely not clean. And part of me thinks—why not just shoot digital? I could’ve edited everything in 30 minutes. No chemicals. No drying racks, No scanning or dust spots. Just pixels, polished and posted.

But it’s not the same.

With film, the process means something. It slows you down, makes you more intentional. You remember the shot—the wind that hit the tripod, the accidental knocking the shutter open,  the light you waited for, the time you risked a camera over a lake or waterfall. There's a commitment in every frame, and later, a memory in every negative.

Yes, it takes time. Yes, I sigh when I think about it. But I also know that the moment those first sheets come out of the wash, I’ll remember exactly why I chose this.

Because there’s still magic in it. Not just in the images, but in the effort.