A Darkroom Diary

I've given up on the idea that I can beat time. I can't. It takes me three hours to develop, search, prep, and process one image. If I'm lucky, two. And then, it's the waiting game. Waiting for the paper to curl up, to dry out, to settle into whatever is. After contemplating all the labor and energy, there are decisions to be made... Do I try this again? Are you worth rescuing? Am I in love?

Whatever will be, will be.

A Darkroom Diary

My version of a Boticelli. A real live beauty. Reminiscent of the days when a hint of a gaze behind a fluttering fan inspired sonnets and epics. The tones are exactly what I wanted. It took almost an entire box, right down to my last 10 sheets, to understand this paper. The mood here is perfect for me, too. The only problem I have for all my finished prints is that I can't separate experience from the quality. I love shooting. I love the result. Are they ready? I couldn't say...

Oh Supermoon...

if only i could touch you.

another Sunday Secret

Sunday Secret

A Darkroom Diary

Tonight was the first time I cried.  I cried feeling pretty much in the dark outside of my room. Only one print.