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- Nov 3, 2010
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When I was about 4 years old I wandered into the kitchen for a drink of water late at night. What I found was a very strange and magical event. My parents were surrounded by a deep red glow and all kinds of weird stuff was set around. They normally wouldn't have been up this late in the kitchen. I walked up to my father who was holding up what looked like a wet piece of paper with something on it. When he saw me he dropped the paper back into the funny square pan he was soaking it in. I think they must have seen the wonderment and amazement in my face so they let me stick around for a few minutes.
My dad took a flat metal thingy out of the big metal thingy with a light in it and replaced the thin flexy thingy with a different flexy thingy. Then he turned the dial on the weirdest clock I'd ever seen and opened a cardboard box and removed what looked like paper and made the light come on in the big thingy. He took the paper, with nothing on it, from under the big thingy and put it into one of the weird square cooking pans. In the meantime my mom was lifting me up to see in the big pan that my dad had placed the paper in. What the Captain Kangaroo?!? A picture magically started to fade in. He moved the paper from one funny-smelling square pan of water to another smelly thing of water then rinsed it under the sink. He held the picture at my level so I could see it. The magic picture was of, as I remember it now, a very lovely lady. After that it was off to bed for me and... I'd better not get up again.
I'd never before seen either of my parents doing darkroom work nor did I ever again. That moment always stuck in my mind but I didn't learn until I was about 9 that they were doing photography. That was when I wanted to get a camera but received a crappy Kodak Instamatic. I tried to like it but never could warm up to it. It was later, when I found a decent camera stored away in a closet that I found a true interest in photography.
Oh... and I didn't find out until my mid-twenties what my parents were printing that night were nudes of a mutual friend who asked my dad to do her a favor and my mom was apparently perfectly okay with that. Unfortunately, my dad didn't let me see the "good" photos... only one in which the lady was fully clothed. What the hell was he thinking?
What a wonderful reply.
I was given a Canon EOS to play with when I as 14 and shortly thereafter, I lost one of my best friends....1 roll of images that I have cherished ever since. Those are the only 'hard documents' of our friendship and I began photographing family and important friends ever since...and continued losing people close to me up until the last few years*. Photography, especially film, acted as the only sort of tangibility to those lost that I now have.
*I lost one close family member or friend once per year for 6 years in a row and now have been 3 years without. Our local newspaper dubbed my graduating class "cursed".
My father was a part time wedding photographer who spent a lot of his spare time in the evening just looking at his cameras and cleaning them (or so it seems). I got interested but wasn't allowed to touch them. One of my early memories is of my mother showing me the reversed image in the viewfinder of a Rolleiflex (whilst my father was out!).
When I was ten years old, I was given an Agfa Isolette. My first task was to photograph my aunt's wedding, which I did, produced a perfectly exposed set of twelve prints, all cutting off the subjects' heads!
Steve.
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