In a world where things feel fleeting, digital, and easily deletable, the analogue is enjoying popularity. Predictions for 2026 to be the year of analogue, dumb phones, paper notebooks are numerous. This isn’t new. Hipsters have had their vinyl collections mocked for years, but analogue photography – using photographic film, attracts an increasingly mainstream audience.
On Instagram more than 44 million photos are listed under the hashtag #FilmPhotography. Last year a study from a market research company noted global sales of film cameras was set to reach some £303m by 2030. That will be a lot of shutters clicked, and glossy prints shared. It points us to a desire for more than pixels, the analogue provides a greater sense of our humanity. I think this is seen in the imperfections, the moment, and the permanence.
The Imperfections
I’ve spent a lot of time shooting many terrible photographs, but the analogue ones are some of my favourites. Where light leaks have occurred, or where film has been damaged, the results are sometimes charmingly unexpected. Hazy tones and surprising colours become a feature.
Contrast shooting on film to the experience of using a new Google Pixel phone, where multiple shots are taken, and the best moment of everyone’s faces can be selected and imposed upon the same image. While this is technologically impressive, it removes any chance of imperfection. Add to this general concerns over smartphone usage and the effect that filters has had on teenage girls and their mental health in particular, and it becomes more understandable that there is an increased interest in analogue. The unfiltered imperfection of analogue stands out, and is enjoyably human in a way that the digital world simply is not.
The Moment
Simone Weil defined attention as ‘the rarest and purest form of generosity’, but in the digital world our attention is the product. Notifications frictionlessly glide into infinite scrolling, and someone somewhere makes money.
The ‘hang on a second’ while we reach for a phone has a very different feeling to reaching for a film camera. A phone is a drain on attention. It is the most natural thing to have a photo opportunity turn into checking a notification when taking the picture on a phone. On a camera, that’s impossible. When it comes to our attention, the film camera is even better than the digital. Many of us know the scenario of a group picture being retaken multiple times, everyone making sure that they are happy with how they are presented.
Those requests to retake photos remove everyone from a moment, sucking the joy of the photo with it. Painfully held smiles and constant checking between shots moves the mood from capturing a joyful moment, to being captive to the process. In analogue photography everyone’s attention is briefly on the camera, but not for the sake of looking at ourselves. A moment becomes a moment.
The Permanence
Shooting analogue also brings a sense of permanence. Moths and rust may destroy, and photographs won’t last forever. Yet a dusty album, a shoebox of prints tucked away, will be opened by fascinated children years from now. A wall of polaroids catches the eye. Friends spot their younger selves and smile. By contrast, a camera roll of a thousand images lies forgotten in a pocket. In a world that feels fleeting, a steady photograph reassures us. An ancestor’s portrait reminds us we come from somewhere. A snapshot on a friend’s wall tells us we belong to something bigger.
It is understandable therefore that the analogue mediums refuse to die, we love the imperfections, we feel our attention being used for good purposes in the process, there is a sense of holding in our hand something more permanent than the digital provides. We are taken to a more human place because of it.
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