It's the little things.. (aka: I heart the darkroom)

Dr. Ken is a good friend of mine. He has his man-cave in his basement. it is his retreat from his wife (also a doctor) and three daughters, albeit he rarely retreats to the cave before his daughters are in bed. The man-cave is lined with books, LPS and CDs. He goes in there and puts on a good CD or LP and opens his book of the moment. Ah, pure male bliss.

My man-cave is a little different. It has two enlargers, two sinks, a safe light, etc. I put on a nice CD, fill the trays and shut the door on the rest of the world. The pressures of work and life in general melt away. When I crawl out of the cave, I am refreshed, invigorated, and ready to face the world again.

My darkroom is definitely my retreat from the world. It may sound corny, but I'm at peace with everything when I'm in there.

Ash

That feeling as print version 4 or 5 goes into the dev. after the carefully planned dodges, burns, tonal choice and drydown factors are executed. It slowly materialises and your eyes and gut tell you this is "the one". As this feeling is confirmed while the fixer does its final work you quietly say to yourself, yes, my friend, you are a @#$%ing genius! Being master of this tiny universe is exhilarating.

Little things

Tony Egan said:

That feeling as print version 4 or 5 goes into the dev. after the carefully planned dodges, burns, tonal choice and drydown factors are executed. It slowly materialises and your eyes and gut tell you this is "the one". As this feeling is confirmed while the fixer does its final work you quietly say to yourself, yes, my friend, you are a @#$%ing genius! Being master of this tiny universe is exhilarating.

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Like me the first few are not that thrilling but once you get to the best combination "da** you are GOOD" is a rush that drugs or alcohol cannot compare with.

My darkroom is unfortunately very small and I often wish it were bigger, but hey, at least it's something. I find darkroom work a mix of frustration and elation. I can't easily see the print coming up in the developer because of its distance from the safelight so my favorite part is walking my print into the light. It's amazing how quickly time goes.

bsdunek said:

Absolutely! What's even better is to have Dad's plane. We picked up the 170 at the Cessna factory in Wichita in August, 1950, and flew it home. I was eleven.
It still has the same smell of aviation fuel, leather, and other things. Every time I open the door I have to draw it in.

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Your Dog, Riley looks like a happy creature in there

ozphoto said:

The magic of watching the image appear on my paper of choice for the session

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I agree with this, it is like magic.

I find the darkness very relaxing too.

Terrence Brennan said:

The solitude it affords. It is my very special place, where I go to finish the creative process which started with the camera exposure. And there are no inflated egos, no self-superior fauxtographers and alleged photographers to (try and) tell me what to do.

I built it myself, from scratch, and I know every nail, every screw, every inch of electrical wire and all of the plumbing, intimately. There is my sweat, some of my blood and a lot of my time invested in that room, and I never take it for granted.

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Well stated.

Allen Friday said:

My man-cave is a little different. It has two enlargers, two sinks, a safe light, etc. I put on a nice CD, fill the trays and shut the door on the rest of the world. The pressures of work and life in general melt away. When I crawl out of the cave, I am refreshed, invigorated, and ready to face the world again.

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Amen.

Although my darkroom is not owned by me, or anywhere even close to my home, it is a private space. Previously I'd only ever used shared school darkrooms, although as darkroom manager I certainly let myself in at off-hours to work alone when possible. Sometimes I was still bombarded with someone who guessed I would be there and begged to be let in too. Now I'm truly alone, and it IS like a sanctuary. It's amazing. I turn the radio on loud and dance around to silly music I would never actually own, forget about my clinically insane boss, and oh yeah...stare as the print appears, with the same level of astonishment every time. It's magic.

I love the smell of acetic acid in the morning. It wakes you up better than a cup of coffee.