Some things just have a way of finding you again—like an old song you forgot you loved or a childhood hobby you didn't realize you missed. For me, that “thing” has been film photography.
Recently, my dad surprised me with a gift that instantly brought a flood of memories rushing back: his 1983 Pentax 35mm camera. The same camera I used to tinker with as a kid, sneaking rolls of film into it and snapping blurry pictures of anything and everything. That old Pentax was my first introduction to photography—the first time I felt the magic of capturing a moment that could last forever.
Holding it again after all these years felt like stepping into a time machine. The familiar weight of it in my hands, the click of the shutter, the slow, deliberate act of advancing the film—it all came rushing back. It reminded me of a time before instant gratification, when every shot counted, and you didn’t know if you had "the shot" until you got the film developed days (or weeks) later.
Why Film Feels Different
In a world obsessed with speed and perfection, film forces you to slow down. It demands patience, intentionality, and trust. You can’t check the back of the camera. You can’t fire off 50 shots and pick the best one. You have to really see before you shoot.
That slow, deliberate process feels like a breath of fresh air to me now. It makes each click more meaningful. Each photo, even the imperfect ones, feels like a piece of art simply because of the care and heart behind it.
A Deeper Connection
Shooting with my dad’s Pentax isn’t just about the photos—it’s about the connection to him, to my childhood, to the roots of why I fell in love with photography in the first place. This camera has been places, seen things, held memories that span generations. And now it’s part of my story again.
It’s a reminder that photography isn’t just about gear or sharpness or megapixels. It’s about feeling something. It’s about preserving moments that might otherwise slip away unnoticed. It’s about holding time still, even for just a second.
Where I’m Headed Next
Since picking up that Pentax again, I’ve been inspired to shoot more personal projects on film. To embrace the imperfections. To document the quiet, ordinary moments that, later, turn out to be the most meaningful. It’s not about creating perfect images—it’s about creating honest ones.
Film photography feels like coming full circle: returning to the simplicity, wonder, and pure love of the craft that started it all. I’m excited to see where this old camera—and this rediscovered passion—takes me next.
And every time I load a new roll of film, I’ll think of that kid, wide-eyed and curious, who just wanted to freeze a little piece of the world forever.
