Seeds And Soil

I’ve been eating a wheat bagel for about on average, five out of the seven days a week for the past five months or so.  Every morning at work at nine o’clock, I get up from my desk and toast my bagel.  It’s a good time to have breakfast - two hours after I have coffee, and three hours before lunch.  Nothing beats a perfectly toasted bagel, and nothing is more horrible than a burnt one.  Today, I watched my bagel toast to the perfect shade of brown.  I actually saw it toast from a light to medium brown in just seconds before my eyes.  It was when I was peeking through the glass window of the toaster oven, I, for some odd reason, was instantly brought back inside the darkroom.  As if I was standing in front of the enlarger, exposing the paper to direct light, where every second that passed made all the difference.

I was a perfectionist in the darkroom.  My set up would be ritual.  To my far left, I kept my hard case binder.  Protected inside were all of my negatives organized by date.  On the plastic sleeve of each set, written in extra fine point black Sharpie, the range of dates the photographs were taken, the type of film used, and the ISO.  In the front insert of each plastic sleeve, and 8x10 contact sheet marked up with red grease pencil.

Then there were my tools: a grain focuser, a pair of scissors, a piece of cardboard, a orange antistatic cloth, a compressed air can, a pair of white gloves, an easel, a light proof box, and sometimes dodge and burn tools, all of which were systematically placed in such a way that I could easily find them when I worked in complete darkness.

Tucked away in the drawer, a box of Fuji Super Type C paper and precut test strips.  I’d select my negative, run the antistatic cloth carefully across the desired frame, and insert it into the carrier, securing just the edges with masking tape.  I’d hold it up to the light at just the right angle and remove any dust that remained with the compressed air can.

And then the lights go out for just a second.  I’d flip the switch on the timer to project my image onto the easel which rested on the baseboard.  I’d use the crank to raise and lower the enlarger.  I’d open the aperture to the widest setting and evaluate my negative.  I’d lean in and make sure the image was in focus.  I made sure the frame was filled and my edges were clean.  I’d stop down the aperture two clicks, and set the timer.  It was time to make a print.

In that moment when the light exposes my paper I’m in a complete trance and I feel at peace.  This is where I feel most comfortable.  In a room, by myself, focused, committed, devoted, eager, and filled with passion.

Then with the *ding* of the toaster, I’m back inside the kitchen at work and it’s time to eat my bagel.  It’s now 9:04 a.m.