Darkroom Blues

Photography has given me a pleasant outlook to daily events. And it has been so for more than 30 years. Becoming a parent was the perfect “excuse” for taking thousands of shots each year. Yes, thousands of frames found their place on a B&W film I lovingly developed in my darkroom. I checked the negatives, decided on one or two good ones, and printed them on matte paper. Many found their place on walls, in many settings.

Ani was my favorite model. As a baby, a toddler, a budding teenager, and a young woman. Ani was made for photography. And my photography was made for her. Her eyes were soo deep, soo hazel, so telling. Her hair was night-dark, her smile the dream of any father. I used miles and miles of pellicle to catch that smile.

… On July 17 I saw Ani for the last time. It was in the funeral home, early morning. I took my camera with me. For the last pictures. And I took a roll-worth of shots. I do not know how I focused the old rangefinder. I was in a fog. I was not there. I could not say “smile, love”; I could not try to find an angle. Ani was a two dimensional, motionless, cold cadaver I was taking pictures of. About. From. But not thru. Never again will I be able to take a picture thru her, about her.

…. After the funeral, I often visited my darkroom, took the undeveloped canister of film in my hands but could not get the courage to develop it! What if something goes wrong? Too long in the developer? Too short in the fixer? What if I tear the film while rolling it? What if…
I just could not get myself to develop the last roll of film about Ani. The little girl who made me love photography even more. Who was hoping to enroll in photography class this year. Who though B&W pictures show the real colours of life…!

… A month later, I took all the energy I had down to the basement, to the darkroom. There, with foggy eyes and trembling hands I measured the chemicals with a zeal I had never done before. I cleaned the trays as if taking them to the operating room. And I put on surgical gloves to minimize damage to the wet pellicle. Finally, when I washed the developed roll in the sink and held it up to the red light, I felt a sense of accomplishment. Now, the last pictures of my little one were there. I would be able to print them. Look at them.

… Days later when I was agitating an 8x10 paper in the developer tray, I had the amazing sensation of seeing her slowly appear under the red light! Yes, it was a true appearance! And when I washed the fixed print in the sink, there was more than water from the faucet to wash it with..

I have gone back since and tried to secure all the negatives into waterproof boxes. The shoe boxes are not good enough for keeping such treasures! And, I realized that in the past 12 years I had not taken a single bad picture of Ani!! Today, any one of these pictures is a masterpiece….

November 1, 2005