A Film Photography Experiment: Delaying Developing to Improve Clarity by Neil Milton

Written by Neil Milton

While certainly overused and abused, the phrase the decisive moment speaks to the undeniable essence of street photography. While its medium is light, photography can also be considered a temporal process. It is a document of a fraction of a second. Time, to photography, is essential.

In our attention-thirsty online lives, digital photography, and particularly smartphone photography, has given photographers an expectation of instant gratification. Their decisive moment appears as quickly as the shutter is pressed, and can be shared with friends within seconds.

Photography on film moves at a slower pace. There is no chimping with film photography. There is no wi-fi connection to one’s phone, no momentary sharing on social media. As you, dear reader, will be all-too-familiar, making a photograph on film requires patience. That patience can often separate the emotion of making the photograph from the experience of viewing it.

Separating Taking the Photograph from Viewing It

One photographer who took this approach of separating the emotion of making the photograph from the experience of viewing it to heart was the street photographer Garry Winogrand. After his untimely death in 1984, it was discovered Winogrand had left behind approximately 6500 rolls of film, the photos of which he had not seen.

There were circa 2500 rolls of undeveloped 35mm film, 4100 rolls of exposed but never printed, and another 3000 rolls printed but never edited. This vast, unedited archive of his final work is partly a result of his fondness for making photographs rather than editing and evaluating the results. Primarily, though, he desired to have distance between the two acts, all the better for removing any emotional attachment or bias he may have had to the moment and objectivity for the picture itself.

With Winogrand in mind, I stare at an Ikea zip-lock bag filled with 30 rolls of Kodak Tri-X from late 2023 to early 2024. In the spring of last year, I made a film-photography heel turn and bought a Leica M11-P, ostensibly for work. Working on digital for the best part of the last year, this bag of Tri-X was left neglected and lay untouched in a drawer.

As I began to write this article, I thought it was time to dig it out. On at least 2/3 of the rolls, I have no idea what is on them. Sure, the Sharpie-scrawled handwriting tells me roughly what I was doing at the time – a pro-Palestine protest, or just out on the street – and crucially the ISO pushed to, but I can’t picture any individual photo made.

Any emotional attachment that I may have felt at the time has long disappeared, and the edit after the development can presumably now be made objectively.

The Philosophy Behind Delaying Film Developing

Winogrand argued that “photographers mistake the emotion they feel while taking the picture as judgment that the photograph is good.”

Too often, in my own practice as a street photographer, I found myself returning home after a long day wandering around, fired with the emotion of moments I’ve photographed. Too often, I’ve allowed that excitement to convince me that a poor photo is more interesting than it truly is. “It took a lot to make that photo.” “I got out there.” “I had to take a risk.” Of course, taking the risk doesn’t mean good work will follow.

When discussing editing, in his workshops and masterclasses, Richard Kalvar often speaks of the awareness to recognize and accept that one just didn’t “get it.” Street photography is hard, and sometimes the footwork, exposure, composition, lighting, expression, mood, or even focus just isn’t quite right. The photo may almost be a good picture, but not quite.

It takes experience and the development of a good eye to begin to see this, to recognize when a picture is lacking. This is undoubtedly helped by removing the emotion of the moment. Isolating the photograph from the feelings had when making it allows the photographer to look on the work with fresh eyes.

This also works in reverse. With time and clarity, an unremarkable snapshot made in the heat of the moment, with little hope of turning out well, may surprise the photographer a few months down the line when, having forgotten of having even lifted the camera to their eye, an unexpectedly great photo appears on the negative showing something deeper than imagined at the time.

This delay though, this distance, isn’t only a tool to increase objectivity, it is also a useful way to slow down. After an initial pang of impatience for the instant gratification of the internet age, I found, to my surprise, that the urge for immediate validation dissipated. My need for clicks and likes melted away, and I was happy to have enjoyed the practice rather than show off the result. Never a particularly self-disciplined person, I noticed that forced patience led to a more relaxed approach.

The Downsides of This Experiment

As fans of Winogrand know, this philosophy doesn’t come without risk and absent any cost. The great street photographer passed in 1986, and hundreds of thousands of exposures will likely never be seen.

To you or I, though, there are other things to consider. Black and white film degrades less quickly in time, but color film may expire sooner, so it is not wise to leave the film too long, even after exposure.

There is a psychological challenge in working this way, particularly if the photographer is someone who likes a feeling of control or certainty. Leaving rolls of film for months or years before development can build expectations, but that anticipation can also be dashed.

You may have a roll of duds. It happens. You may have exposed poorly. Maybe you forgot to record your 400 film was shot at 1600 and then developed it at box speed. Oops. Then there’s the tedium of developing and scanning several backlogged films at once. Oh, the scanning. The scanning!

My Plan for 2025

Nevertheless, as I begin 2025 with a more concerted effort to share my lenses between my digital and film bodies, I have chosen to spend the year playing with this philosophy.

Except for agency or commissioned work, or work needed for articles such as this one, most of my street photography for the year will be held back for months, if not even until next year or longer. I can’t promise all of my rolls will be held back. Even the most stoical can be tempted, and I’m certainly not the most patient.

For digital, I prefix the folders with an “x” and, with an undetermined time when I will return to them, I exclude them from import to Lightroom. On film, it’s even easier – I have the aforementioned Ikea Ziplock bag being slowly emptied as I develop last year’s unintentional backlog and replenished as I make my way around Warsaw this winter.

Final Thoughts

My suggestion to the street photographers of Shoot It With Film? Give it a try. Expose a few rolls, and throw them in a drawer to be forgotten for a while. Dig them out in a few months.

If you’re feeling patient, return to them this time next year. Give yourself the time to truly separate the experience of making the photographs with your self-critique of the work you made, and see what you find.

What gems did you discover? How differently did you view the work with the clarity of distance from making it? Maybe we’ll all meet up, back here, this time next year and see what we got? Enjoy!

Thank you so much, Neil! Neil is a regular contributor here at Shoot It With Film, and you can check out his other articles here, such as Is Film Photography More Expensive than Digital? and Street Photography: Capturing Expressions.

You can find more of Neil’s work on his website, and sign up for his street photography newsletter here.

Leave your questions about delaying film developing below in the comments!

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Neil Milton

Neil Milton is a street photographer and a regular contributor for Shoot It With Film. Find his other articles here, such as 5 Tips to Improve Your Street Photography and Kodak Tri-X: Why I Love It & Why You Should Too.

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