On Film Photography

As someone who shot weddings exclusively on film for 10 years—and also worked in the commercial photography world when everything was film—I can say that much of what’s marketed today as “vintage film” often has a toy camera or point-and-shoot aesthetic. It doesn’t resemble what a professional would have shot on film 20 or 30 years ago.

The "film look" people crave today is largely fabricated. If you want to see what film photography was really like, pick up a magazine or catalog from the ’70s, ’80s, or ’90s. Go to a museum where prints from those eras are displayed. That will show you what professional photographers (and artists) were actually doing.

Today there’s a nostalgia for something that wasn’t really there in the professional world—it’s more of a nostalgia for the non-professional photography of the time: family vacation albums, the photos your grandmother took with a Kodak Instamatic, and fading color prints from 30 or 40 years ago.

If you look back at weddings from 30 to 40 years ago, photographers weren’t seen as “artists” or “photojournalists.” They were just wedding photographers, and their work was more technical than artistic. This is one reason wedding photography from the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s has that staged look.

It wasn’t until the late 1990s and early 2000s, as magazines and newspapers declined due to the internet, that "artist photographers" and "real photojournalists"—those with experience in newspapers and magazines—entered the wedding industry.

I went to college for art because I loved graphics and printed matter—magazines, album covers, posters. There, I was exposed to art history and photography history. It changed the way I saw the world and the way I saw photography.

After college, I worked as an assistant to high-profile photographers in New York City, shooting for magazines like Elle and Vogue, and on major advertising shoots. As an assistant, I’d set up lighting, load cameras, and, as the photographer shot, I kept handing them a new camera body with a fresh roll of film. I’d take out the roll they just shot, number it, and reload that camera. I took notes on how every shot was exposed, keeping journals that documented each frame on every roll. Once the film was developed, we’d compare our notes with the results. It was metadata—but done with pen and paper. Then, I’d see the final image(s) reproduced weeks later in magazines, on billboards, on the sides of buses, or as a large museum print.

I got to load and oversee thousands of rolls of film (from shoot to final image) during my time as an assistant. This was a great experience and valuable training for when I went on to shoot my own assignments. I mention this because I have extensive experience with film—all formats (35mm, 120mm, 4x5, 8x10) and many different cameras.

Today, I shoot most weddings on digital because I strongly believe that everything I can achieve with film can be done just as well—if not better—with digital. Another reason I shoot digitally now is that it’s a safer, more reliable format. With digital, I can take more shots per second, per minute, per hour, and per day. Digital also allows me to shoot in low light more easily, and shooting in RAW gives me more flexibility in post-production. A RAW digital file captures more detail—especially in shadows and highlights—than film ever could. This flexibility helps me work faster and is key to my candid, photojournalistic style.

You can make a digital photo look like any kind of film, but film isn't as flexible. That low-tech vintage look you often see these days is film being pushed beyond its limitations—past its breaking point.

If you're hiring a photographer to shoot film, ask yourself: Are you simply looking for a vintage aesthetic? Then the debate isn’t about film vs. digital—it’s about whether you want your photos to have a vintage look. And what is this “vintage look” you’re actually looking for? What makes it vintage-looking? Is it imperfections? Faded colors? A laissez-faire, non-professional feel?

When Instagram came out, it introduced filters that mimicked old photos—grandma’s faded photos, 1-hour photo lab prints, consumer-grade Polaroids, and plastic-lens cameras—allowing early cell phone photographers to get creative while also masking the poor quality of early phone cameras. Somehow, this became ingrained in people’s minds as the standard for what old or vintage photos are supposed to look like.

A lot of photographers shooting film these days seem to think the point is to embrace mistakes—underexposed images, motion blur, harsh on-camera flash. I feel that many photographers offering this kind of service are selling poor-quality work under the excuse that “it’s film, and it’s supposed to be that way.” They call it the "vintage look." I call it the high school prom disposable camera look.

Shooting film doesn’t mean the photos have to look low-tech. If you work within the film's limitations—getting to know the film and the camera—you can create beautiful, timeless images.

When I do shoot film, I skip 35mm—digital blows it away, and you can always make digital look like 35mm if needed. Instead, I go back to what I used back when I shot only film: 120mm. I then make wet darkroom prints directly from the negatives (no film scans, no inkjet prints) to achieve that true, traditional black-and-white feel you’d expect from a museum-quality photo made 30 or 50 years ago.

You can see my film images on this page. The cover photos on blog posts, as well as the square photos on the FAQ and pricing pages, were all shot on 120mm film. My approach with digital is very similar—the difference is that digital cameras (especially mirrorless) allow me to shoot more freely on the go, and more cinematically. Digital cameras do a lot of the work—with AI autofocus, and all kinds of other automations. With film, I take my time to read and evaluate the proper exposure—not to mention, I’m limited to just 12 exposures per roll. The 120mm cameras I use are manual focus, fully mechanical, and operate without batteries.

For those who want film, I offer the option to add a few rolls to your wedding day. I won’t be shooting 35mm film, scanning it, and handing you digital prints (like others do). Instead, I develop the film, create real contact sheet prints (for your proofing), and hand-print three enlargements (of your choice) in the darkroom.

I shoot on 120mm film using Hasselblad cameras—yes, the same camera astronauts used on the moon. It’s one of the most reliable cameras ever made, with some of the finest optics available. This is the only system I used to photograph weddings from 2000 to 2010. I know the format inside and out. Each film frame is 120mm, more than three times the size of a 35mm frame. Each negative is 2.25 x 2.25 inches—a true square format.

I have so much more to say about this subject. If you have any questions or would like to discuss any aspect further, feel free to reach out to me.

Before you go, I want to encourage you to look at the works of some legendary photographers who shot on film, such as Man Ray, Weegee, Richard Avedon, Mary Ellen Mark, Nan Goldin, Robert Frank, Vivian Maier, Sebastião Salgado, Eli Reed, Anton Corbijn, and Robert Watson. To me, that's what film looks like.

If you're wondering why so many photographers shot in black and white... one reason is that black-and-white film and prints were silver-based and didn’t fade, meaning they could last forever. Color photos, on the other hand, typically had a lifespan of about 10 years before they started fading or shifting colors.

If you're curious about photography, Magnum Photos (magnumphotos.com) and the International Center of Photography (icp.org) showcase incredible work from some of the world's most renowned photographers. These platforms offer not only inspiring imagery but also valuable insights into composition, storytelling, and the history of photography.