End of the roll: Anchorage photo lab will close after nearly 40 years, bowing to digital imaging and the pandemic

Anchorage photographers will lose one of their few remaining local options for film processing and custom printing when Keller’s Custom Photolab closes this month after nearly 40 years.

For decades, the Spenard business was an essential stop for many professional photographers in Alaska. But it had gradually lost customers with the rise of digital imaging, said owner Jo Keller.

“Business has really gone down, and the COVID hasn’t helped anything,” she said. “But the photography business itself has really changed.”

Keller’s will take its last orders on Dec. 18 and close its doors for good on Dec. 24. Keller, 66, said her desire to retire was also a factor.

“I am looking forward to it,” she said. “It’s time to close it down.”

Keller said she has been thinking of shutting down since the death of her husband and business co-founder, Dick Keller, about four years ago. The couple had been married 39 years.

“When you lose somebody ... it’s just kind of like you really start looking at all your priorities, what you want to do,” she said.

In retirement, she hopes to travel and spend more time with her 95-year-old mother.

The Kellers started the business in the unfinished basement of their Spenard home in 1981. Before that, Jo Keller had been a photographer for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Dick Keller had been a freelance photographer, but Jo said he believed there was greater demand for lab services then.

“Everybody and their aunt and uncle were photographers,” she said.

When business grew, Keller’s Custom Photolab moved to West 34th Avenue in 1983. Jo focused on customer service, film and bookkeeping, while Dick oversaw custom printing and maintenance. Dick gradually moved away from day-to-day operations in the 1990s.

Keller’s competed with technology from its earliest days, Jo Keller said. One-hour film processing and printing businesses thrived all over town. Instead of attracting those customers, Keller’s catered to professional photographers who sought services like slide film developing, processing for less-common film sizes, and custom printing.

“A business like ours can’t really compete with the Costcos and the Walmarts,” Keller said.

Daryl Pederson, who owned four photo labs in Anchorage that primarily served amateur photographers, said he appreciated Keller’s even though some of their business offerings overlapped.

“I was a competitor, but the amazing thing was Jo was always so nice that we pretty much helped each other instead of looking at each other like a threat,” Pederson said.

Keller said she sometimes loaned and borrowed chemicals from the other professional labs in town that were direct competitors.

“If you look at Alaskans, just the Alaskan nature, we need to help each other out ...” she said. “I would help (photo labs) Photowright, Castleton’s. And along the same lines, they would help me if I needed something.”

Keller’s was at its peak around 2000, she said. That’s when she employed nine other people.

For years, the Keller’s lobby was a crossroads for Anchorage photographers, many of whom would linger to drink coffee and swap stories as they placed and picked up their orders. Keller said she enjoyed being part of the problem-solving process for creative professionals, many of whom were her friends.

“It was a great meeting place and just an absolute fun business to be in. Of all the customers that walk through the door, 95% of them are very happy because pictures make people happy,” Pederson said. “You turn in your film, and the next step is getting to view how well you did.”

Della Hills, who has worked at Keller’s for 26 years and is the only other full-time employee now, said Monday mornings could be particularly busy. That’s when a half-dozen wedding photographers would sometimes bring in their film.

“You knew your photographers, and you didn’t even have to see the name on the bag,” Hills said.

Amber Johnson, who worked at Keller’s for 18 years, said Jo Keller treated her customers and her employees like family. A lot of the community atmosphere was lost when the industry switched to digital imaging and pros no longer needed the lab, she said.

“In some ways, it was kind of like a bar. People would randomly run into each other, get to catch up on clients (and) what they’re doing. Stuff that doesn’t happen now,” she said. “I feel photographers are a lot more isolated from each other, except on social media. But you don’t have that contact, just being in the same room and just bouncing ideas off each other.”

Keller said the turning point was 2003. That’s when the quality of digital cameras left photographers with few reasons not to adopt them. The technology also helped photographers get images to their customers faster. Some photographers stuck with film, preferring its particular look, but their numbers were few.

By the mid-2000s, Keller’s downsized to just a few employees and survived — even as other professional-grade labs closed — with help from loyal customers, film holdovers and low overhead, Keller said. Even Costco would steer some customers to them once its photo counter stopped processing film, she said.

“This is a ma-and-pa operation, and so I’m sure if we were in a corporate (system) or whatever, we would’ve shut down a lot earlier,” Keller said. “But it’s a matter of ‘it’s my business,’ so you just keep on going. If you’re not making any money, you just keep on going.”

Photographer Judy Patrick, who said she was a “Keller’s faithful regular” when she shot film, said news of its closure makes her sad. Keller’s provided a niche service that no one else does locally by way of face-to-face human interaction.

“Good luck finding that on the internet,” Patrick said.

Hills said it wasn’t a surprise when Keller announced the business was closing. Seeing other photographers’ work made it feel like she traveled to some of those places. Though there’s been a slight resurgence in the number of people shooting film in recent years, it’s a different clientele.

“We have very few people that actually shoot professionally. It’s mostly a lot of young kids that picked up the cameras,” Hills said.

“It’s like a trend. It’s the retro thing. Everyone’s buying these film cameras and there’s not any real teaching out there for them anymore, so they’re learning the hard way,” she said.

Keller’s stopped processing slide film about a year and a half ago, and black and white film about a year ago, due to low demand. The pandemic further complicated business problems and machinery upkeep.

“The last two years, it’s been slowly really going down to where it’s not worth it anymore. And our equipment is getting very old,” Keller said.

Johnson said she won’t miss the smell of photo chemicals, but she will miss the memories it evoked. She noted that this was the time of year that Keller brought in her homemade chocolates to give to staff and customers, something virus concerns now prevent.

“I’m happy for Jo, but I’m kind of sad that that’s the way things in the world have gone,” Johnson said. “But the world evolves.”

On a snowy morning in early December, Keller drove to work in her recognizable orca-themed Volkswagen Beetle, with a fin on the top and a tail on the trunk. After the business closes, she’ll spend months cleaning and clearing out her offices, storage rooms, darkrooms and labs. Then she plans to sell the building.

Pederson, who has rented space for his studio photography business in the Keller’s building for the last six years, plans to relocate. That day, Keller sat on a stool in front of his seamless paper backdrop.

“Forty years is quite a long run for anybody in business, and she’s got to be thankful for that,” Pederson said of Keller. “She had a great career. There’s nothing to be sorrowful about.”

Keller smiled broadly and extended her hands. The picture will be used on her last Keller’s Christmas card, a holiday tradition.

“It’s going to be ‘That’s all folks,’ like Porky Pig,” she said.