i can recall looking through the viewfinder of a canon ae-1 as a child, rotating the lens to bring the focus rings together, sharpening the image and falling in love with the depth of field of a fixed 50mm lens. My childhood was built around stories told while thumbing through family photo albums, listening to the tall tales and legends behind the photos. Moments captured in time, to be re-told again and again with stifled laughs or muted tears. The ability to physically hold these photos; to tack them on a mirror with tape or pin them on a wall above a desk; it gave those captured moments gravity and weight. They didn’t live in the ether, available at a moment’s notice, pulled from a pocket to be swiped onto a small smartphone screen. Lost in a damaged hard drive or mistakenly erased forever These photos we could hold were real, fragile and special. They were on the list of ‘things you’d run into a burning house to save’. Now, they live in a datacenter, backups upon backups, living for eternity or until the cells of the backup batteries run dry. Because we can pull those digital photos up at any moment, it seems to make them less special.

In High School, i discovered the yearbook/newspaper classes had access to a working darkroom. There, I learned the ropes of rolling film, shooting, processing and printing. I never fell in love with setup shots, portraits or any situation where the subject was attempting to look as ‘pretty’ as possible. But I was sucked in by candid moments. Preferring to be a ‘fly on the wall’, to capture a moment as honest as possible. To feel something real, to ‘be there’ in that moment and be able to re-live it again, to be able to go through the zen-like process of film photography (roll/shoot/process/print) was ‘it’ for me. And it remains that way today. I don’t enjoy shooting portraits or setup shots (I attempted to shoot fashion. it didn’t take). I prefer to be in the midst of the moment with as little setup as possible. when I first heard the phrase ‘f8 and be there‘ something clicked. Shooting candids for the yearbook & newspaper was my first real experience with the concept of just being there. Don’t let the camera or light get in the way of the moment.

I continued the ‘process’ in college (roll/shoot/process/print) with limited success. This was a course that pushed us to use the entire frame, to assemble multiple images into a cohesive piece. We were forced into uncomfortable places to encourage growth. I still remember many lessons from this class but mostly, I miss the access I had to that massive darkroom. Years later, discovering ‘cross processing’ (the act of shooting Slide film (E6) and processing it as if it was negative film (C41)) opened new doors to expression and creativity. The colors oversaturate, the blacks get crushed and depending on the time of day, the time of year, how much sunlight there is, the film will react differently, (and here’s the crucial part) uncontrolled by a human hand. You can guess what your film will do, you can guess what the angle of the sun and available light will do to the film, but you can’t truly control it like some photoshop plugin. The Magic happens in that chemical process and you get what you get. I wouldn’t recommend this for anyone who’s shooting a wedding. But if you’re into experimentation, I can’t recommend Cross Processing‘ enough.

8 years or so ago, I moved into a 100 year old house with an odd layout. At one point, the house was a tri-plex, split into separate units. The back bedroom had what used to be a kitchen that has since been converted into an office. When I laid eyes on the running water and drain, a holdover from the kitchen days, I knew I had to build my own darkroom. I owned cans and a bag, so I was able to process my own film but without any real motivation to print, those items just collected dust over the years. The hunt for gear began in earnest and I slowly managed to find small pieces here and there. And then I discovered a treasure trove from a widow, who had an entire darkroom setup she was looking to sell to someone who could put it to use. I gladly purchased every piece of equipment inside her loaded station wagon. I brought home a color enlarger (making dialing in contrast so much easier), a large cutting board, countless printing trays and every beaker I could possibly need. Building a darkroom had always been living in the back of my mind, hoping for a day when the dream could become reality.

I would love to tell you that this is a daily passion. That I’m able to throw myself into this work and find reward each time. But the honest truth is that I’m pulled in so many creative directions that I often don’t find the energy to put the darkroom work in. I think that’s ok. Knowing it’s always there, ready to be setup and used is a good feeling. My professional work is based on the approval of others. I stopped falling in love with what I created professionally many years ago, simply because it’s not made for me. And that’s ok! I call myself a ‘creative obstetrician’. I’m delivering someone else’s creative baby, not mine. They’ve asked me to partner with them on the journey and I’m there every step of the way, offering advice or suggestions. Protecting myself from attachment to the work also allows me to be more flexible to change, which is vital in many of my collaborative creative works.

So here it is. The Darkroom. I’ve made it a conscious effort to keep these photos ‘offline’. I don’t scan the negatives, I print photos and give them away. I’m trying to keep alive the ‘Photos You Can Hold’, the idea that printed photos carry more weight than the digital versions floating in the ether. Not unlike The Unbearable Lightness of Being, these moments have weight and a printed photo makes the burden real. Digital photos have no weight, no burden. Because you can’t tuck a digital photo onto the speedometer of your car or the mirror of your bathroom. You can’t put a digital photo in a heart-shaped locket. And maybe by sharing photos it encourages others to remember that these moments in time are important. How do you run into a burning smartphone to save a photo?

if you made it this far, and you’re reading this, and you’d like a print you can hold. send me an email: gray at graylikethecolor dot com, with your name and address and I will gladly mail you some. hope life is treating you well <3