Why Do I Make My Own Analog Black-and-White Prints?
This question would have been laughable in the art community 25 years ago, but now, with the digital revolution firmly in place, it seems that now is a good time to answer that question.
From precisely measuring and gathering ricocheting light off my subject and onto the film, to the darkroom where processing times are defined to the second, to exposing the cotton fiber paper, to final processing, toning, and washing, printing silver gelatin prints in the darkroom is a laborious and expensive process.
Digital printing has freed photographers from what most consider to be unpleasant work in the darkroom and behind the camera, but for my print work, it remains a critical part of the spirit and resulting art.
My color cameraless artworks are a straightforward reproduction of the original film, made without any additions or subtractions to the final print. However, my black-and-white pieces are made with a tremendous degree of interpretation. Ansel Adams, trained as a classical pianist, likened the creation of the negative to the writing of a musical score, and the printing of the negative to the performance of that score. And while Photoshop software provides a greater diversity of controls in the final image, I thrive working in the darkroom using traditional wet-process techniques.
So the question remains, Why? Why go through this when all you need is a digital camera, a computer, and a printer to forgive and correct every possible error made in the image capture-to-print process? One might well ask, why walk when you can drive, why climb a mountain when you can use a helicopter, why send a card when an email will do? For me, the journey from camera to fine print is a process to be savored, understood, and celebrated.
In our headlong rush towards greater economy and efficiency, I fear we may be losing some of the qualities that make life worth living. I believe the benefits you receive are proportional to your investment - whether that is a business, a marriage, a life, or in a simple photograph.
In my 40+ years in photography, I’ve learned that pleasure is derived from discipline - challenging oneself to your highest aspirations and living up to them. And the discipline I write about is not some dark “endure it at all costs” kind of discipline, but a joyful engagement where mind and spirit meet craft. Where the limitations and demands of your medium result in fulfillment, where working with my intellect and my hands yield artworks that, I hope, will stand the test of time. Even now, when the cost of darkroom materials has risen 10-fold over the last 20 years, I continue to find fulfillment in making my own prints - one at a time, slowly, carefully, investing everything I’ve got into each and every print.