The Analogue Revival: Why Underdog Film Lab’s Bet on Film Photography Feels Like a Rebellion
There’s something almost defiant about opening a film lab in 2017. I mean, think about it: digital photography had already swallowed the market, Instagram was king, and film was relegated to the nostalgia bin. Yet, four photographers in West Oakland decided to bet on the underdog—literally. Underdog Film Lab wasn’t just a business venture; it was a statement. A declaration that film photography, with its tactile imperfections and timeless charm, still mattered. What makes this particularly fascinating is the timing. While the world was racing toward AI-generated images and instant gratification, these guys were dusting off vintage equipment and setting up darkrooms. It’s like they saw something the rest of us missed: the human craving for authenticity in an increasingly digital world.
A Risky Bet in a Digital Age
When Underdog Film Lab opened its doors, the odds were stacked against them. Beloved photo labs like Gassers and RayKo had shuttered, and the Bay Area’s photography scene was shrinking. Vince Donovan, a veteran of Oakland’s photo community, called it “incredibly risky, highly unusual, and very brave.” Personally, I think what’s often overlooked here is the emotional investment. These weren’t just entrepreneurs; they were artists who believed in the power of film to capture human experience. Brian Brooks, one of the co-owners, even fought to save his high school darkroom. That kind of passion doesn’t just disappear because technology changes.
What many people don’t realize is that film photography isn’t just about nostalgia. It’s about permanence. Brooks points out that physical film has staying power—something a crashed hard drive can’t guarantee. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a profound statement in an era where our digital memories are as fragile as the devices that store them. Film, on the other hand, is tangible. You can hold it, feel it, and even see it when the lights go out.
The Pandemic’s Unexpected Gift
Here’s where the story takes an interesting turn. Just as Underdog was finding its footing, the pandemic hit. You’d think that would spell disaster for a community-focused business, but the opposite happened. Donovan noticed a resurgence in film photography during COVID-19, and I believe it’s because people were craving connection. Film photography became a way to slow down, to engage with the world in a more deliberate way. It’s not just about taking a picture; it’s about the process—loading the film, waiting for it to develop, and seeing the final image. That slowness, as customer Emma Geiger pointed out, is part of its charm.
This raises a deeper question: why do we gravitate toward analogue in times of crisis? I think it’s because film photography forces us to be present. In a world dominated by AI-generated images that lack human meaning, film feels alive. It captures joy, sadness, love, and disappointment in a way that digital can’t replicate. As Donovan put it, “That’s why we’re doing art—it’s that human experience.”
A Community Built on Love and Risk
What sets Underdog apart isn’t just their equipment or expertise—though their collection of vintage machines like the Reframas C-41 is impressive. It’s the community they’ve built. From my perspective, this is the heart of their success. They’re not just selling film or renting darkrooms; they’re fostering a space where people can share knowledge, support each other, and feel like they belong.
A detail that I find especially interesting is their commitment to West Oakland. When they outgrew their original space, they didn’t move far. Brooks calls it their home, and it shows. They sponsor local teams, support neighborhood artists, and even let local zine makers sell their work without taking a cut. This isn’t just business; it’s a labor of love.
The Future of Analogue in an AI World
Now, in the age of AI, film photography is having another moment. It’s almost ironic—the more advanced our technology becomes, the more we seem to crave the analogue. But what this really suggests is that there’s a fundamental human need that digital can’t fulfill. Film photography isn’t just about the final image; it’s about the journey, the imperfections, and the stories behind each frame.
Personally, I think Underdog Film Lab’s success is a testament to the enduring power of art that feels real. In a world where AI can generate a thousand images in seconds, film reminds us of the value of patience, intention, and human touch. As Camille Braswell, a regular customer, put it, “I care about the future not being devoid of genuine artistic creation.”
Final Thoughts
Underdog Film Lab isn’t just a business; it’s a movement. It’s a reminder that sometimes the best way to move forward is to look back. In a world obsessed with the next big thing, they’ve shown that the old ways still have something to teach us. If you ask me, that’s the real story here—not just the survival of film photography, but the resurgence of a mindset that values authenticity, community, and the beauty of imperfection.
So, the next time you see a film camera, don’t dismiss it as outdated. It might just be the most revolutionary tool in the room.
