The Value of Film for Family Photography

The word value brings to mind many ideas which all apply to film photography: sentiment, principle, worth, cost in terms of money, time, and effort. As art historian John Ruskin pointed out, things should be costly, because it proves love and sacrifice went into them. 
In other words, love requires sacrifice.

  
I think, as my own catalog of childhood family photos (shot beautifully on 35mm) reveals to me, it’s more important to portray the transcendent goodness of the family and to bring to light our shared humanity, than it is to focus on perfection. I am continuously learning to pursue excellence over perfection in my work.

Film photography reminds me of its ubiquity in my childhood and teenage years. People remark with curiosity about my film camera when I am out and about, but I recall the normalcy of film cameras when I was younger. It’s remarkable how the world seems to have so quickly forgotten  so wonderful and special.

What is so special about a film photograph? It is light embedded into paper. It is poetry. A digital print, on the other hand, is ink on paper - it is not a photograph in the true sense of the word (photograph means “picture of light”). The negative leaves a tangible footprint upon the physical world, it has matter and substance, just as we do. A digital RAW (digital version of a negative) is a series of 0s and 1s recorded electrically on a digital sensor. The difference is palpable. It is seen in the grain of film compared to the noise of digital. It is felt in the painting-like quality of film compared to the hyperrealism evoked by digital. Film photographs, pregnant with light, have a quality of depth that digital prints can not begin to imitate. There is beauty in the delayed gratification of the film process, as 
beautiful and worthy things take time.



There is also a felt difference in archival methods. How many of us have fumbled around in an attempt to pull up a specific picture we have in mind which we took on our phone a couple years ago? Compare this to, how many of us have a treasure box of physical photographs from our youth sitting in our closets, from which we can quickly find the photo we are looking for? Digital photos are stored in digital clouds and all manner of hardware that can and does fail, wiping any trace of photos from existence. Negatives can be securely held in archival sleeves and stored in a solid binder, helpfully organized for posterity’s sake. In today’s increasingly digitized world, analog is anomalous. Digital fatigue is on the rise, and many are yearning for the analog tech of yesteryear. Being the physical incarnations that we are, analog offers concrete solace. And, given that analog negatives and prints can be digitized at a high resolution, you can enjoy the best of both worlds when you embrace the analog process.

Family moments, fleeting and precious, call for the medium which best serves them, and captures the essence of their beauty and soul.  This is why I am committed to shooting 100% of my work on film.

“The purpose of art
is nothing less
than the upliftment
of the human spirit.”
~Pope John Paul II

The Studio and Darkroom Space

It started with this darling photo I had taken of my daughter:

A couple of years after I took this photo, I found myself reminiscing about the baby days. I went looking for the few film photos I had taken at that time. I had taken mostly cell phone photos of her when she was a baby. I had previously delved into film in 2016 (she was born in 2020), but I did not have the headspace for my hobby in the early days of motherhood, and I didn’t fully integrate film photography back into my life until she was nearly three years old. So, I came upon this photo, and was looking for its film negative, wanting to make a print, and I couldn’t find it. I went back to the film lab to see if they still had it, and sadly, they didn’t (it was my fault; in the fog of postpartum I had never picked up the negatives from the lab, and they dispose of abandoned negatives). I suddenly and painfully recognized the importance of keeping my negatives. I also began reflecting on the high value of using film photography for documenting family life, as my parents, grandparents, and great grandparents had done before me.  

I realized I needed the film process fully in my own hands, away from the lab, and thought, it couldn’t be too hard to do this myself at home. Well, it was hard, very frustrating at times, often panic inducing as it involved sitting in complete darkness in a confined space while the film escaped my attempts at spooling it onto the reel. But, it was totally worth it. Over the span of a year, I developed a system for developing and archiving film spotlessly and efficiently. What began with crouching in the darkness of my tiny bathroom evolved into installing custom blackout shades on my bedroom windows and obtaining an enlarger to finally begin printing my work in my limited space.

As my darkroom was coming together in a cramped corner of my bedroom, I dreamed also of having my own portrait studio. I had a roll of backdrop paper installed on a curtain rod and got myself beautiful studio lighting. All this was going on in my 350 sq ft back house apartment on my maternal grandmother’s property in Glendale. In order to roll out the backdrop and set up my lighting, I would have to break down my dining table and move furniture outside, a cumbersome obstacle to using the studio. As my dreams, projects, and daughter all grew, it became increasingly apparent that I could not fit everything into this tiny space, and when an opportunity presented for us to move, we did, and I converted the space we had lived in for three years into my dedicated photography studio and darkroom.

From Model to Mother:
My Journey with Photography

In my twenties I worked as a performance artist in Hollywood.  I had the privilege of spending extensive time in front of the camera and of collaborating with a 
myriad of L.A. artists on a great variety of exciting projects, including editorial and commercial work, music videos, and live shows. It felt very fun and exciting and glorious, yet deep down, like an empty pursuit. I was living through a spiritual desert.  Much of the photography I was involved with was objectifying and left me vulnerable and uncomfortable. To combat this feeling of vulnerability, I sought out  photography as a discipline. In retrospect, though this was a dark period in my life, I appreciate the unique education in photography, design, and interpersonal relationships that this time provided me with.

It was during my time in Hollywood that I initially delved into digital photography. When my grandfather learned of my interest in photography, he bestowed on me his collection of photographic film equipment; unbeknownst to me, both of my grandfathers (who shared a close friendship with each other) had been avid photography hobbyists.  I then enrolled in a Traditional Photography course at Glendale Community College in 2016. I was enthralled by the darkroom and the magic of creating prints.  My grandpa’s Olympus OM-1 35mm film camera since became my steadfast companion.

Persons are known
only when
they disclose themselves
to us”
~Bishop Robert Barron

Now, as a mom in my thirties tasked with documenting family life, I’m creating art from an entirely new vantage point.
In contrast to the fashion and commercial photography I modeled for in my youth, my motivation today is to portray personal stories and relationships. I treat each project as a collaboration. I seek to connect meaningfully with the persons whom I am photographing and to bring to light their inner beauty. Each person is the protagonist in their own story, and through my work I strive to honor yours.

Stewards of Stories: the Stoever Legacy

The birth of Stoever Studios has coincided with the death of my beloved grandmother, Katharine Martin Stoever, on Valentine’s Day 2025, God rest her soul. Death has a way of precipitating new beginnings. In my 36 years, my grandmother has been a continuous presence in my life, and I miss her terribly. Even at the end of her life, I was blessed to exchange many meaningful conversations with her at her bedside and to share my vision for a photography studio with her. These conversations have kept me motivated, propelling me forward in spite of the weight of my grief.

So it was, in the wake of her death, that a collection of family heirlooms streamed in to adorn my studio and office space. These items help tell the story of the Stoever family. There are items of faith: a family bible detailing family records, my grandmother’s wooden rosary from Jerusalem, and an assortment of beautiful artistic prayer cards from the 1930s. There is a c. 1935 8mm Kodak Cine8 film video camera, property of my great grandfather Robert Stoever, which I look forward to using in the future.

There are many black and white photographs: 
one of my young grandfather, Thomas Stoever, leaping exuberantly in front of a crowd when he was a yell leader at UCLA in the 50s
a studio portrait of my grandparents with their children (my dad, aunt, and uncle), all dressed beautifully in dresses and suits for the occasion of a formal portrait sitting, many portraits of my grandmother at various stages of her childhood and adolescence, bearing her same distinctive smile (isn’t it amazing how we retain the same recognizable essence from infancy through old age?), 
candid shots of my grandparents together offering us a glimpse into a time gone by, and a photo of my grandmother from her time as a Pan American stewardess, consulting with a pilot and fellow stewardess. 
With this photo, I received my grandmother’s iconic Pan Am uniform hat (I was chosen out of the family to receive this because of my known fascination with hats). I found this to be a fitting inheritance, as I have become a stewardess of family history, both of my own (past and present), and of others’ in my capacity as a photographer.

To my beloved Grammy and Grampy, may you Rest In Peace. I aim to honor your beautiful legacy through my new venture.