Rediscovering Film Photography: Shooting Kodacolor 200 With My Dad’s Canon A-1

I made a promise to myself this year to get back into photography. Not the quick-snap-on-your-phone kind. The slow, intentional kind. The kind that makes you stop and really look at the world before pressing the shutter button.

I’ve been keeping that promise, carrying around my Sony a7iii (and sometimes my Leica D-Lux or Sofort). But a couple of months ago, I felt a tug toward something even slower. Something tactile. Something that would make me earn every shot.

So when Brandon and I found out about the Click! Photography Festival in Durham, NC—and their "2nd Annual (Mostly) Film Photo Walk"—we signed up to join, and I knew it was time to pull out my dad's 35mm camera: a 45-year-old Canon A-1, purchased from a camera shop in the Philippines.

Exploring Durham at the Click! Photography Festival

It was our first time visiting Durham, and the festival became the perfect excuse to explore the city through a lens. CineStill hosted the walk, and it was very cool to see more than 50 people gather with their (mostly) analog cameras in hand.

Before we hit the streets, one of the hosts set up a massive large-format 8x10 view camera to take a group photo. There’s something thrilling about standing in front of a camera that large. You straighten up, hold still a beat longer, and feel part of a century-old tradition. Plus, it was just so neat to see the photographer load the negative plate and then literally pop the lens cap off and back on to take the photo!

Brandon and I made it into the pic, which felt like a tiny badge of honor: proof that we were there, participating in a shared, analog moment.

See us??? 😎

The walk itself was everything a photo outing should be. Durham felt warm and familiar, with a mix of old brick buildings, modern murals, and chill vibes all around. We moved in a loose formation, stopping for interesting shadows, textures, or architecture. It was a group of hobbyists, pros, and curious wanderers all tuning into the world together and looking for the perfect shot. 📷

Shooting the New Kodacolor 200

Because the trip was so last-minute, I arrived in Durham without any film. I figured, this is a photo fest—surely someone is selling film, and thankfully, the Freestyle Photo booth had just set up.

That’s where I grabbed a roll of the newly released Kodacolor 200—a revival of a classic Kodak color film that debuted in October. I ended up being the first person on the walk to buy a roll, which made it feel extra special. There’s something incredibly fun about shooting a fresh film stock that almost nobody has touched yet.

Using My Dad’s Canon A-1 Camera

The story goes that my dad bought this Canon A-1 when I was born because he wanted the best camera to take photos of me. Whether that’s fully true is up for debate—but knowing my dad (and knowing myself), I have no trouble believing he wanted the best gear.

Using it all these years later feels like holding a little piece of family history. And yes, today it has the infamous "Canon cough," that tiny squeak some A-series bodies develop when the lubricants in the mirror-dampening or shutter mechanism dry up. Supposedly it doesn’t affect performance, but the sound is undeniable.

I sort of loved it.

Every time I pressed the shutter button, it let out this small metallic whine—a charming reminder that this camera has lived a life of its own. Shooting brand-new film in a decades-old camera that squeaked with every frame felt like a quiet leap of faith.

I also had to remember how to photograph like this. Manual settings. Manual focus. Paying attention to aperture, shutter speed, lighting. It was a bright day, so I leaned on the “Sunny 16” rule whenever I questioned my exposure. It was the best kind of practice—technical in a way that feels grounding.

Using this camera reminded me of why I love film. Every shot requires intention. Every composition matters. There’s no instant delete button. No “shoot a hundred and pick one.” You commit to the moment.

Film Development: The Long-Awaited Reveal

I didn’t finish all 36 frames during the festival. I brought the camera with me to the Cape Fear Kite Festival the next weekend, and that’s where I shot the last few.

When it was finally time to develop the roll, I had a decision to make. Black-and-white film? I’d happily develop that at home. I know the ritual: developer, stop bath, fixer. But color film is a different beast. I’d never developed color myself, and I didn’t have the chemicals or equipment.

So I dropped it off at a professional lab in Raleigh while I was in town for work—then waited another week until I’d be back to pick it up.

I was so excited to see the negatives… until I got a phone call.

There had been a jam in the processing machine. Most of my frames were damaged. 🥲

A handful came out okay (thankfully!), and those were enough to make me smile. Kodacolor 200 gave them a soft, nostalgic look—dreamy colors, gentle saturation, that unmistakable analog warmth. It felt like the photos had already lived a little before I ever captured them.

Even the ruined frames didn’t totally sour the experience. If anything, they reinforced what film photography teaches you: patience, presence, and acceptance.

What I Learned and What’s Next

Using my dad’s Canon A-1 added an extra layer of meaning to the whole experience. The Canon cough was a constant reminder that I was working with a living piece of photographic history. Shooting fresh Kodacolor 200 on a camera built nearly half a century ago felt like a quiet conversation across generations.

The photo walk, the festival, the cutesy downtown of Durham, the excitement of shooting a brand-new film stock, the suspense of developing color film after decades of digital—all of it reminded me of the film photography lessons I used to know by heart:

☀️ Pay attention to light.
🎞️ Make every frame count.
🫶 Embrace the unpredictability.

Even if most of the roll was messed up, the images that survived carried enough joy to make the entire process worthwhile. Film photography is more than the final image. For me, it's about exploration and unhurried happiness.

And I’m already ready for my next roll. 📸