It’s a beautiful thing when someone trusts me to photograph their newborn. These aren’t just pictures — they’re the first memories of a life just beginning. One day, this little girl will show these portraits to her own children and grandchildren. They’ll see the faces of their ancestors, the hands that first held their mother and grandmother, and the beginning of their family story.

In the early to mid-twentieth century, Pyro found its most famous advocates. Ansel Adams, Edward Weston, and other Zone System pioneers relied on Pyro for its long tonal curve and ability to handle extreme contrast scenes. Adams’ negatives from Yosemite, printed decades later, still exhibit the smooth highlight roll-off typical of Pyrogallol development. Pyro allowed these photographers to “place” tones with mathematical precision — the foundation of the Zone System itself.

Film photography deserves more than a production line. That’s why I started Liquid Light Lab — a hand-crafted film processing and scanning service built by a photographer, for photographers. The Lab is now open, and it’s already been trusted with rolls that mean the world to people across the UK.

For years, I thought colour was the best way to preserve memories. It felt modern, vivid, and real — the perfect match for the moments I wanted to hold on to. But colour doesn’t last the way we imagine.

Prints fade, slides shift, and digital colour grades fall out of fashion. What looked stylish a few years ago now feels dated. Even today’s digital RAW edits tied to popular “film look” presets eventually reveal themselves as fads.

Black and white is different.

Every frame of film is an investment. Whether it’s your wedding day, your child’s first steps, or a portrait you’ve carefully planned, that negative is unique and irreplaceable. The scan is what decides how much of it you’ll actually see.

Most labs don’t deliver the full potential of film. That’s why I built Liquid Light Lab — to give your negatives the scans they deserve, with no shortcuts.

Nationwide service: wherever you are in the UK — London, Manchester, Anglesey, Edinburgh, Orkney, Belfast — you can post your film directly to me and receive archival-quality scans back.

Where modern optics are designed to correct, suppress, and polish, older lenses allow light to express itself in ways that feel alive. The edges aren’t always sharp. The coatings flare in unpredictable halos. The bokeh swirls or doubles or melts away entirely. What many engineers considered flaws, photographers now treat as signatures — fingerprints left by history on light itself.

When an image is exposed on film, it isn’t yet a photograph. It lives invisibly in the emulsion, suspended between existence and nothingness — a latent ghost of light. At this stage it can still be erased, fogged, or lost entirely, but it is there, waiting. Only when it meets developer does it reveal itself, and only when it meets fixer is it frozen forever. That alchemy — the moment when something ephemeral becomes permanent — is what makes film different. Memory doesn’t just appear; it is conjured, stabilised, and preserved.