Hello to all who come here to discuss their silver addictions. I've been 12-stepping myself away from digital the last two years.
I work as a facilities engineering manager to support my addiction. The stress drives me to my Tachihara, causes me to wrestle with the demon of the RB67. I reminisce with the venerable Rolleiflex T. I've spent many a dark and stormy night roaming and lurking e-bay for old Omega DII enlargers, print dryers, dry mount presses. Now they sit in grand disarray in my studio.
What has my life come to? It's come to quiet, contemplative times with myself. It's come to a growing sense of composition, light and shadow, form and flow and feeling. It's come to the great and simple joy of only making two exposure some days - and getting that same high when the 4X5 negatives come out of the tank and I can hardly wait for them to dry so that I can make prints.
I have lurked here and at photo.net and largeformatphotography.net for a long time. No more! I admit it! I can't seem to find and know enough. No longer will I hide my D-76, and Dektol and odorless fixer containers in the closet, behind the old camping gear!
It's getting worse. I no longer hear the unkind jibes of "Hey, look at that old antique camera that guy's using!" I just smile to myself under the darkcloth. I have learned to patiently explain that the RB67 is NOT a movie camera. And yes, I assure people, you can still readily buy film to go in the old Rolleiflex.
But, there is hope my fellow addicts. More and more young people want to know why. What are the results? Is THIS how those really cool black and white photographs at the fair and galleries and museums get made? Ah, evil one that I am - I have lured them into the dark(room) trap of silver gelatin.
Good. There's hope. There is still the creative and driven heart that has no interest in being technologically correct. The art is alive and the next generation, in it's yearning to reject and not conform, will find this out of their rebellion.
Wayne Olson
I work as a facilities engineering manager to support my addiction. The stress drives me to my Tachihara, causes me to wrestle with the demon of the RB67. I reminisce with the venerable Rolleiflex T. I've spent many a dark and stormy night roaming and lurking e-bay for old Omega DII enlargers, print dryers, dry mount presses. Now they sit in grand disarray in my studio.
What has my life come to? It's come to quiet, contemplative times with myself. It's come to a growing sense of composition, light and shadow, form and flow and feeling. It's come to the great and simple joy of only making two exposure some days - and getting that same high when the 4X5 negatives come out of the tank and I can hardly wait for them to dry so that I can make prints.
I have lurked here and at photo.net and largeformatphotography.net for a long time. No more! I admit it! I can't seem to find and know enough. No longer will I hide my D-76, and Dektol and odorless fixer containers in the closet, behind the old camping gear!
It's getting worse. I no longer hear the unkind jibes of "Hey, look at that old antique camera that guy's using!" I just smile to myself under the darkcloth. I have learned to patiently explain that the RB67 is NOT a movie camera. And yes, I assure people, you can still readily buy film to go in the old Rolleiflex.
But, there is hope my fellow addicts. More and more young people want to know why. What are the results? Is THIS how those really cool black and white photographs at the fair and galleries and museums get made? Ah, evil one that I am - I have lured them into the dark(room) trap of silver gelatin.
Good. There's hope. There is still the creative and driven heart that has no interest in being technologically correct. The art is alive and the next generation, in it's yearning to reject and not conform, will find this out of their rebellion.
Wayne Olson
