Personal Matters

A Dying Art?

October 16, 2008

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In the beginning…there was film. And film reels and developer tanks. And chemical concoctions named “developer” and “fix” (with odors no more pleasant than curd milk). And darkrooms with anxious shadows. And light-sensitive paper and enlargers. And physical burning and dodging tools (not icons that you click on in Photoshop). AND INFINITE OPPORTUNTIES FOR ERRORS (you can’t just “Photoshop that shit” and ctrl+z, naw mean). view more →

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Developing film isn’t rocket science but it sure isn’t an iPhoto plug-n-chug either. In total darkness (no orange lights, no floating eye balls, no night vision goggles), I had to pry open the film cassette with a can opener, trim the film leader off without cutting myself, load the curly roll of film onto a plastic reel without jamming it, and then place the film reel securely in the tank before I could see my own hands again.

The next steps were pretty much the fluff-art equivalent of doing a dangerous chem lab experiment. The water had to be exactly 68 degrees (which was inconveniently colder than the faucet water so off to the water fountain we went), the developer/water mix had to be 1:1, I had to agitate the mix with a gentle twisty motion for 10 minutes total (time varied based on the type of film + ISO) but for 30 seconds first and then five seconds for every 30 seconds until time was up… to shorten the rest of the steps, it went something like: pour out pour in stop bath and agitate, pour out and pour in fixer and agitate for 90 seconds, pour out and dunk in running water bath for two minutes, mix around in hypo clear for 30 seconds, wash, dunk in photo-flo for another 30 seconds, hang and dry for 30 minutes… and then cut up my film into strips of five to slip into a film sleeve to create a contact sheet for tomorrow. (This is just the film; I have no actual photos yet.)

If I had messed up somewhere, I would’ve lost those shots forever—no memory recovery, no disc repair. view more →

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Eight flights later, I’m back home in California. NorCal weather never felt so good before. I’d like to think that my Mandarin and Taiwanese have improved, especially with so many late nights spent in four different hotels watching brain-rotting amounts of channel [V]—but I don’t think I ever said much more than “how much” and “thank you” either.

To clarify, I did not go to Beijing for any of the Olympic action or any other major city to check out any monstrous architectural feats in the making; I went to Kunming, Dali, and Lijiang in Yunnan, a Chinese province near Tibet and Myanmar with 94% mountainous terrain and 52 out of 56 of the indigenous tribes in China. The scenic places I hiked and stone-paved old towns I rode through in horse-drawn carriages were nothing less than breathtaking. I imagined I was a trader traveling along the Southern Silk Road stopping at Dali for a few nights to absorb in the harmonious clash of cultures and people, before I passed on my goods to another horseman who knew how to cross the rockier, higher-altitude terrain up ahead. view more →

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