I have started a small run of journals,
one of a kind,
under the Indigo umbrella.
I had a dream I was lying in a bathtub full of Indigo.
It's a wonderful process as resurrects memories of my photographic darkroom days, again, when I had a frenzied bout of working with cyanotypes. I always loved that part of photography the most, aside from pressing the shutter and capturing a moment in time, that I had chosen to frame - the printing part was an adventure I would completely lose myself in.
I felt like a scientist, with all the little bottles of things
(likely lethal chemicals though...)
that created marvelous depictions of things I had seen.
How is this even possible?
I would ask myself,
as each image was born in the darkroom.
I have mentioned before in many ways, book binding and arts brings this back into my life. The need to work with my hands, with tangible objects. Photography as I know it, seems to be lost in the mist of a need for instantaneous images - no time to wait.
It seems almost ironic, that this is how photography started, as instantaneous imagery, that folks marveled at in the late 1800s. But the long lost art of printing and processing is where my heart always found its place. In the future I dream of a place I can run a darkroom as well as book arts studio, and combine the two.
I ferry myself between a tiny house in the bush,
and my atelier which is 30 minutes away -
and feel grateful for what I have.