Film photography lives in my memory very close to one of the most influential people in my life: my grandad. I can only remember him with his (now mine) Canon F-1 strapped to him all the time, creating timeless images that remind me not only of my childhood but also of him.

When I was a kid, we would sleep in the same room, and he would show me everything about his cameras and his pictures. He treated me like a grown-up, bringing me cameras I could barely hold just to show me how he looked at the world. In a predictable life joke, the first picture I think I ever took was of him in the late 80s. In full disclosure, I might be making this up — there’s no proof it was me who pressed the shutter — but the low angle, terrible focus, and the location immediately transported me back to that moment:

I don’t tend to think the past was better — I’ve lived an immensely happy and lucky life until today. Shooting film for me isn’t about nostalgia or trying to feel special. It’s simply about being connected to the moment and intentionally building a stronger, more physical bond with that memory. And after all, what’s life if not a collection of memories?

And yes, every time I push the lever to advance the film, I think of my grandad, and it makes me smile — knowing he is part of who I am today.