Digital BW, The Print

Over the years I had to set up more-or-less "permanent" darkrooms for 
myself in eleven different countries, and temporary (for 2-3 months or 
less) darkrooms in at least 40 other cities, towns, and rural byways in 
some interesting and sometimes dangerous corners of the world-- with 
very few exceptions, it was a question of what was possible, rather than 
what was optimal.  Decent ventilation was a luxury, and one only rarely 
available. 

I never particularly minded the problematic aspects of these 
arrangements, as my focus was on the images I was creating, but the 
environments in which I usually found myself working were challenging at 
best, and seriously hazardous at worst-- in one unforgettably disastrous 
(and, from my perspective, tragic) instance, more than twenty years of 
negatives were completely destroyed when the darkroom was rapidly 
flooded by burst pipes from overhead.  

What I was doing was often exciting, and always satisfying on many 
levels,  but the pictures I was creating were not made better by the 
technical and physical difficulties involved in the darkroom end of the 
work. 

Yes, today I do have numerous boxes of different sizes and surfaces of 
paper from different manufacturers, requiring differing profiles, but 
not only can I easily keep them plainly labeled, neatly stacked on 
shelves, and easily accessible, but I can open them without worrying 
that the slightest glancing blow of light will send $150 or more down 
the drain-- I can open them IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!  And should it be 
necessary to cut the paper down to a smaller size, I no longer have to 
do it in the dark with a guillotine-style paper cutter.

My ink cartridges do have expiration dates, but these have never yet 
proved to be a problem, and I no longer have to be forever labeling and 
then checking the dates on bottles of developing solutions, fixers, and 
a range of other useful, exotic, and incredibly deadly processing, 
post-processing, and retouching cocktails. 

Rather than doing very precise, eye-straining work in virtually no 
light, my home office is bathed in sunshine.  Rather than having to 
maintain strictly careful procedures and keep my hands gloved to protect 
them from toxic chemicals, I can safely and contentedly enjoy a cup of 
Jamaican Blue Mountain-- and while one of my Epsons is turning out a 
perfect print, I can relax by gazing out the windows at the ocean, the 
raccoons playing on my deck, and the deer nuzzling the rose bushes. 

I might also add that, left all on their own, the prints dry to a 
beautiful finish and I no longer need to be placing wet prints on the 
very hot metal surfaces of print dryers and tightly battening down their 
canvas covers to keep the prints from buckling.

And rather than having my pictures entrusted to the vulnerable form of 
film negatives-- perpetual hostages to fortune-- my digital negatives 
are regularly backed up on four sets of DVDs made by four different 
manufacturers.  One set is kept in a safe deposit box at the bank. 

I still own an impressive collection of high-end darkroom equipment-- 
all carefully packed away in boxes.  Don't ask me why, because I'll 
never use it again.  I feel no desire to use it again.  But someday I'll 
know what to do with it-- perhaps one day I'll come across some young 
person who wants to learn the traditional methods, and I'll know that 
this is the person to whom to give it.  But in the meantime, it waits, 
and I continue moving forward. 

That said, the brave new world in which we operate is not without its flaws.

Ten years or so ago, when digital photography was first really beginning 
to make its impact felt in the consumer market, I mistakenly believed 
that it would be a marvelous gift to young, beginning photographers who 
would no longer be constrained by the financial considerations of film 
and commercial processing or the demands of a traditional darkroom.  I 
was very wrong, because what I thought would be the freedom to explore 
and discover became, instead, the license to be sloppy, undisciplined, 
and mindless. 

Instead of considering each shot, thinking about angle and light, 
perspective and exposure, color, surface, and texture, the determinedly 
and willfully ignorant simply turn their cameras in the desired 
direction and snap away.  Having never learned anything about editing, 
they post to the web their 100+ nearly-identical shots, with no idea 
whatsoever about what makes a picture good, bad, or indifferent.  Then, 
on email lists, they announce what they've done and ask for comments-- 
which translates as "tell me how wonderful I am!", as they will tolerate 
nothing but unstinting praise, free of any hint of criticism.  And 
that's exactly what they receive-- from others as ignorant as 
themselves, because those who actually know and could tell them 
everything they're doing wrong have long since discovered that in this 
day and age of preserving self-esteem above all else, it's unacceptable  
to tell anyone he's done something badly. 

If this strikes anyone as harsh, that's too damned bad.

I'm glad that the people from whom I learned were demanding, critical, 
and not at all inclined to let me get away with sloppy efforts to which 
no creative thought or technical knowledge had been brought.  I'm also 
glad to have worked for a series of hard-nosed, nasty-tempered editors 
who knew what they wanted and accepted nothing less. 

I don't respect what's going on today, and I'm appalled by the fact that 
everyone who buys a DSLR seems to feel that owning the equipment is all 
the justification required to identify himself as a "photographer".  All 
these "well I just bought a camera and I'd like to make some money at 
it" posts are not only insulting as hell to all of those who've actually 
learned their business and paid their dues, but also irresponsibly put 
at risk the photographic record of the weddings, anniversaries, 
graduations, christenings, bar mitzvahs, and other special, 
once-in-a-lifetime events that the innocent and naive may foolishly hire 
them to shoot.  The results can be very sad indeed.

Photography is currently experiencing a transition that is not without 
its painful and difficult aspects, and part of the process seems to 
involve the mistaken belief that this is something "anyone can do."  
And, of course, reduced to its most basic mechanics-- pointing the 
camera and pushing a button-- there's some truth to that.  But pointing 
the camera and pushing a button is about as far as the vast majority of 
people will ever go-- and that's not photography, no matter how much 
they tell themselves that it is.

In the long run, the novelty and continuing advances of digital 
technology will become less and less a beguiling distraction, and the 
focus will return-- as well it should-- to the quality of the pictures 
being created.  Those who've put the time, effort, and energy into 
learning what they're doing, inviting, withstanding, and benefiting from 
tough criticism, developing their skills, expanding their abilities, 
discovering and working at what they do best, and understanding that 
quantity means nothing if not accompanied by quality, will eventually 
evolve into photographers... the real McCoy.  

The rest will no doubt continue to delude themselves... but not anyone else.

Best wishes,

Shoshanna
Gold Beach - South Coast of Oregon
http://www.pbase.com/shoshanna
http://mindworksunlimited.com/shoshannaspeak/





E Neilsen wrote:
>
> I am saddened that so many of you suffered in smelly darkrooms. Good
> ventilation is the difference between enjoyable darkroom time and
>
> a dark dangerous place. But you missed the point, the previous post 
> was more
> about word creation and I was associating the smell with the words origin.
> People could walk into my studio darkroom and smell but a hint of anything
> chemical and many wondered if I really did make all those prints there.
>
> How many different boxes of digital paper do you have and the associated
> sample packs which for the most part are not individually labeled so 
> after a
> few years goes by you have more scrapes of paper that you don't know than
> do? At least with a paper safe they were out of sight out of mind ; )
>
> Eric
>



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