Forgotten Frames: What happened when I developed decades-old rolls of film

Oct 18

A person opens up an old disposable camera with a Disney character on the front — Caitie Boreliz, COO of Safelight Labs, pries open an old disposable camera with depictions of Disney characters across the front.

Inside folder 0476, I roam the streets of Brooklyn, staring at everything with fresh eyes — my young marriage, my newfound home, my budding career.

Inside folder 0476, my cat Capa is still alive, perched atop a piece of Ikea furniture in our house on Ray Street in North Park — a neighborhood just beginning its revitilization.

Inside folder 0476, I’m 17 years old, sneaking a cheap keg into the SDSU dorms. Inside folder 0476, I’m 28, photographing candidates for mayor of San Diego. Inside folder 0476, I’m 32, and lower Manhattan rises behind my wife Hailey — leather jacket on, wind blowing in her hair.

A woman stands in front of the Lower Manhattan skyline

A dog jumps in a fountain outside the Brooklyn Museum

A group of young people wear star spangled clothes at a July 4 party

A hand holds the dispenser on a keg inside a shower

On what was otherwise an ordinary Wednesday in October, folder 0476 landed in my inbox like a heavy sack of gold. One minute, I was navigating the year 2024. When folder 0476 arrived, I relived decades of my life via ten rolls of film that days earlier I’d unearthed from drawers throughout my home and delivered to the good people at Safelight Labs, my neighborhood film processing shop.

They’d developed, processed and scanned those ten rolls — a mixture of disposable cameras, C-41 film and and rolls of Kodak Portra that had been jammed in an old family point and shoot and toted across the country.

A hand holds a bag full of old film ready to be processed

For nearly two decades, my life has been defined by fast photographs. As a photojournalist on assignment for publications from The San Diego Union-Tribune to The New York Times, I used a digital SLR to photograph assignments in more than a hundred cities across the United States, often delivering the images back to a photo editor within days, hours, or sometimes minutes.

They served their purpose — spreading the news of the day instantly to readers, helping me hone my eye as an artist and a storyteller and locking moments of time into a small rectangle.

A group of young people at a July 4 party

One performer flips over top of the other in Central Park

Looking at my old digital files jogs memories. Looking at old film unlocks new memories — as if they were stored for safekeeping. They feel like a different lifetime — a different world.

Folder 0476, therefore, feels safe. It’s a way to explore my past, with the assurance of the present.

A picture of the New York City subway map

At Safelight Labs, Forgotten Frames are nothing new. Nearly every day, someone brings in rolls of film found in a grandparents’ basement, or stuffed away in the bottom of a camera bag. Pictures have emerged from of the Vietnam War and of families in the 1930s visiting national parks. Old disposable cameras have revealed images from teenage summer camps, and visions of people’s lost loved ones.

Bringing them to life is a passion for the Safelight crew. Sometimes, the rolls come up blank. But, more often, something is found, and profound.

“There’s always a little bit of excitement when these orders come in,” said Rob Cowan, CEO of Safelight Labs. “Lost rolls of film that are eventually found and are definitely my favorite because those images have finally come home.”

Safelight’s largest archiving project was more than 100 rolls of 35mm film that housed cherished, and forgotten, family memories.

“When the order was finished, the customer said that they felt like we were a part of their family now too,” said Caitie Boreliz, COO of Safelight Labs. “It was a meaningful experience for everyone who played a part in completing that order.”

A man sits in front of items inside a moving truck, including a bike

Most of what’s inside 0476 are people that I love in various states of their lives. Unlocking the memories by developing the film allowed them to see themselves in a different light. My wife remembered how much she liked her bangs. My friend Andy reminisced about selling me the Mamiya as he left New York City to begin a new chapter of his life.

One frame captures two ultrasounds on display on our Brooklyn windowsill. A small chalkboard in the center of the picture notes that there are 23 weeks until my daughter's birth (she’s now 6).

The ultrasounds on display were some of my finest work as a photographer. The doctor was kind enough to let me push the button on the machine that captured these first-ever images of my daughter when she was still in utero. We immediately put those pictures in a frame and displayed them prominently in our home.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

They’re frames never to be forgotten.