Rediscovering Creative Freedom Through Film Photography with Melissa Ortendahl
I learned photography on film.
Not in a trendy, revival, artisanal kind of way. In a “drop your rolls off at Walgreens and pick them up in an hour” kind of way. I wasn’t in formal classes or clubs. I was just a kid with a camera, photographing my friends, experimenting constantly, and slowly realizing I loved this more than anything else I was doing. From middle school through college, film was simply what I had, and it became the foundation for how I learned to see.
There is nostalgia there, for sure. Film is the beginning of my story with a camera. It’s the ritual of loading film into the back of the camera, pulling it taut across the spool, hearing the gears catch as it advances, and the soft mechanical sigh when you rewind the roll. It’s the first time I understood that light could be shaped and controlled and interpreted. It’s where I learned to meter, to wait, to think before pressing the shutter.
But my relationship with film isn’t just about nostalgia.
Why I Still Choose Film Photography in a Digital World
After years of shooting exclusively digital as I built my business, I came back around to film in 2017 and 2018 after attending a conference and sitting in on a film breakout session. I still owned the film camera I used in college. I brought it with me. I loaded a roll. And the second I heard that first shutter click again, something in me shifted.
I didn’t want to put it down.
At first, I used it mostly for personal work. My kids. Ordinary moments. Family memories. It felt low pressure and playful. But as my business grew and I focused on client work, the film cameras started collecting dust again. They’d come out a few times a year, but not consistently.
Then in 2023, I brought them back into client work. Family sessions. Newborn sessions. Weddings. Around that same time, film was becoming more mainstream again. Clients were asking about it. The look. The feel. The softness. The nostalgia.
It would be easy to say I leaned into film because it was trending. But the truth is, once I started shooting it consistently again, I remembered why I loved it in the first place.
It makes me slow down.
Every frame costs money. Every shutter click matters. There is no rapid-fire safety net. No instant playback. No zooming in to check tack-sharp focus. You meter. You compose. You trust yourself.
It forces intention in a way digital rarely does for me.
Stepping Away from Client Work to Rediscover Creative Film Photography
Around the same time, I started noticing something else. My kids were getting older. They were less willing to be my constant subjects. Most of my shooting was for clients. And while I love my clients deeply, shooting for other people carries weight. There is pressure. There are expectations. There is the responsibility to get the shot every single time.
I realized I hadn’t been creating just for me in a long time.
I wanted creative freedom without restrictions. I wanted to experiment without worrying about perfect exposure or technical perfection. I wanted to stretch.
Inside a Film Photography Workshop in Provo, Utah
So, somewhat on a whim, I signed up for a three-day film workshop in Provo, Utah hosted by The FIND Lab and led by Jonathan Canlas. I’ve sent my film to The FIND Lab for years. I’ve watched friends go on their film trips. It felt like the right place to immerse myself again.
And it was.
We shot at the salt flats under wide open skies. We explored an old mining town with peeling paint and quiet corners. We photographed in pitch-dark basements using off-camera flash, a skill I specifically wanted to refine. We developed and scanned our own film. We tested different cameras and film stocks. We failed. We adjusted. We learned together.
The people alone made it worth it. Talented, generous, thoughtful creatives who were there for the same reason I was. Not to build content. Not to chase trends. But to create.
It felt like coming up for air.
I didn’t realize how creatively stuck I had been until I wasn’t anymore. There’s something about stepping outside your normal environment, away from your daily responsibilities, and putting a camera in your hands without an agenda that changes you.
A month later, I’m still riding the high.
What Shooting Film Teaches Me That Digital Photography Cannot
For me, shooting film exposes a side of me creatively that I can’t seem to access through digital. I don’t have a perfectly articulate explanation for it. It just opens something. A pipeline. A current of energy. It feels exhilarating and grounding at the same time.
Film is patience. You wait for development. You wait for scans. You sit in anticipation instead of instant gratification.
Film is trust. You trust your meter. You trust your eye. You trust that what you saw in that moment was worth capturing.
Film is imperfection. Light leaks. Grain. Slight softness. Unexpected shifts in tone. And instead of trying to correct those “flaws,” you learn to embrace them.
That might be the biggest gift it gives me.
Digital photography often feels like precision and performance. Film feels like intuition and interpretation. It gives me permission to let go of perfection and celebrate nuance. It challenges my skill set while simultaneously reminding me why I picked up a camera in the first place.
I don’t shoot film because it’s trendy. I don’t shoot it because it’s nostalgic. I don’t even shoot it because clients ask for it.
I shoot it because it makes me feel something.
And in a career that can sometimes become about timelines, deliverables, and expectations, that feeling matters.
Film pulls me back to the beginning. But it also pushes me forward.
And right now, that tension between history and growth is exactly where I want to be.
