Analog cameras are back. As an '80s kid, I get it.
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Illustration: Aïda Amer/Axios. Stock: Getty Images
I've never been much of a photographer. My camera roll mostly consists of my kids, our dog and the occasional family vacation.
- But when The New York Times recently reported that film cameras are making a comeback, it got me thinking back to the analog days of my childhood.
The big, um, picture: Before cameras documented every meal or outfit, taking a picture required a small act of faith. There was no deleting, no retaking, no checking whether everyone had their eyes open. You simply hoped.
- My introduction to cameras came in the early '80s, in the form of a rectangular hunk of plastic made by Kodak.
How it worked: You pulled a latch that split the camera in half, dropped in a film cartridge that looked like a mini-barbell and cranked it until a "1" appeared in the little window.
- You framed the shotshot, pressed the button and thwack. That was it.
The best part came after the roll was finished. I'd save up a few and take them to Foto Hut, the camera shop in my Pittsburgh neighborhood.
- When I picked up my prints a few days later, I'd stand on the sidewalk outside and frantically flip through them to see if there were any "good" ones.
- "Sharing" meant bringing them home and passing them around the family to get their takes.
- Every now and then, one of those snapshots became something more.
Case in point: The only tangible reminder I have of my grandfather, who died when I was 9, is a single framed picture of him. It shows "Papoo" wearing his natural resting expression, a handlebar mustache with a pipe dangling from the side of his mouth.
Flashback: My two sisters and I had a good laugh about all this — over text, naturally.
- One of them noted: "People f—ing love physical media in the age of total disconnection caused by the media that was meant to connect us."
Zoom in: In my basement storage is a small suitcase of film photos from my college and post-college years — roughly from the '90s to 2005, when I got my first digital camera.
- I hadn't touched it in probably 15 years.
- But a few months ago, I found my 13-year-old daughter digging through the suitcase.
- Amused and transfixed, she pointed out pictures of a younger version of her father, his exceedingly hairy friends from Oberlin College and a few old girlfriends.
The bottom line: I'm a sucker for nostalgia. Though I suspect reminiscing about those old hunks of plastic is almost as much fun as using them was.
- The day after the text exchange with my sisters, a picture popped up in the same chat of one of their grandchildren sporting an adorable fountain ponytail.
- My '80s mind would have been blown.
