I’ve developed photos in darkrooms many times. I studied media in highschool and my minor was photography. I didn’t even hold a digital camera during those hours, it was all old-school. I love the process of developing film. But the smells from the chemicals make you semi-high at the end of the day.
I only use darkrooms to develop my (black and white) photos. Even as a photography major, I have peers who have either never used a darkroom or who don’t see the beauty and benefits to them.
In my college, I finally see a darkroom and it was eerie and majestic at the same time. I feel there’s another dimesion to that darkroom…like a home for souls that taken pictures. I love it! Just go at night if you have a dark room is pretty all in red.
I like photos, they show the past, the way things were.
I find myself hurt, from someone I trusted more than I thought possible, she was incredible.
Yet, when I look back at those photos and letters I see another time, that now seems to be just lies.
I can’t be sure if they were lies to begin with.
Could our lives get purer everyday, or do people become more corrupt with each passing moment?
It’s worse knowing things can never be the same.
i adore darkrooms. i spent much time experimenting with black and white film and photo developing in high school, and apart from the photos themselves there was this awesome feeling of shutting out the world in there.
i helped build a kind of half-assed lab in my parents’ then-unfinished basement to play around a bit with the medium as well – thank god dad was a professional photog for a spell and appreciated that mess.
i’m now tempted to build a new one – i have an old enlarger in pieces in storage, just begging to be rebuilt.
I like photos, they show the past, the way things were.
Photos capture moments, memories… You juxtaposing it with the past, the way things were, is quite interesting.
I find myself hurt, from someone I trusted more than I thought possible, she was incredible.
Yet, when I look back at those photos and letters I see another time, that now seems to be just lies.
Which is more real? The moment you shared with her before (captured by that snapshot of a memory)?… or the moment you’re sharing with yourself, your “hurt”, the photos and letters?
I can’t be sure if they were lies to begin with.
… and you can’t be sure they weren’t…
uh… what’s the best way to sift thru the sands of time?.. the sands of lies?
…also at a loss.
Could our lives get purer everyday, or do people become more corrupt with each passing moment?
Could you think of thoughts more divine? by the hour, by the minute?
Do you become more resigned, pessimistic, by the hour, by the minute?
It’s worse knowing things can never be the same.
At a point where two roads fork, you can rise and choose your vantage point.
Do you change directions and look at the point where the two roads diverge?
Or change position and focus on where they converge?
You are the traveler, the navigator of your own journey.
Your hands aren’t tied, you are the captain of your own soul.
Neither the lies or the truth are tangible. Therefore, do both exist? It is possible to feel something because them, such manifestations exist.
Her lies led me astray, the truth rescued me. The lies kept me blind and caring. Without knowledge of anything different, that feeling was quite real and intense. I miss it, already. Yet the truth hit me hard, and wasn’t easy to accept. So I can’t decide, but if something is born of lies. Can it ever be considered real?
Maybe the sands of lies, like the sands of time, just require patience. Eventually, the truth or the inevitable end prevails, although it does take longer than we expect.
I believe people change, it just happens, sometimes without reason.
I try to remain constant, but such events are likely to affect my opinion. Maybe we all become more wiser, by the hour, by the minute.
I would like to believe so, in my ability to decide a fate to my liking. It wasn’t what I wanted when the decision was mine to make. I just didn’t want to lose her, like I have.
At least I hold photos, to remember what was, after placing my grief one side.
I made a pinhole camera once. it was awesome because you never really knew what you were taking a photo of, and everything always came out kind of morphed and creepy looking. I still dabble in it once in awhile, stuffing the crack under the bathroom door with towels and replacing the overhead light bulb with a red one from the dollar store.
Yeah, we learned to develop film at summercamp. Good B&W film still beats out digital for resolution… but digital offers instant gratification and more affordable colour.
I love ASW.
I’ve developed photos in darkrooms many times. I studied media in highschool and my minor was photography. I didn’t even hold a digital camera during those hours, it was all old-school. I love the process of developing film. But the smells from the chemicals make you semi-high at the end of the day.
I only use darkrooms to develop my (black and white) photos. Even as a photography major, I have peers who have either never used a darkroom or who don’t see the beauty and benefits to them.
In my college, I finally see a darkroom and it was eerie and majestic at the same time. I feel there’s another dimesion to that darkroom…like a home for souls that taken pictures. I love it! Just go at night if you have a dark room is pretty all in red.
A Softer World is kick ass. nuff said.
If you only read two webcomics, read ASW and SV.
A softer world where secret vespers are sung along the steps of real laughter into the warmth of a night past forgetting.
I like photos, they show the past, the way things were.
I find myself hurt, from someone I trusted more than I thought possible, she was incredible.
Yet, when I look back at those photos and letters I see another time, that now seems to be just lies.
I can’t be sure if they were lies to begin with.
Could our lives get purer everyday, or do people become more corrupt with each passing moment?
It’s worse knowing things can never be the same.
i adore darkrooms. i spent much time experimenting with black and white film and photo developing in high school, and apart from the photos themselves there was this awesome feeling of shutting out the world in there.
i helped build a kind of half-assed lab in my parents’ then-unfinished basement to play around a bit with the medium as well – thank god dad was a professional photog for a spell and appreciated that mess.
i’m now tempted to build a new one – i have an old enlarger in pieces in storage, just begging to be rebuilt.
or maybe it’s just the fumes…
I like photos, they show the past, the way things were.
Photos capture moments, memories… You juxtaposing it with the past, the way things were, is quite interesting.
I find myself hurt, from someone I trusted more than I thought possible, she was incredible.
Yet, when I look back at those photos and letters I see another time, that now seems to be just lies.
Which is more real? The moment you shared with her before (captured by that snapshot of a memory)?… or the moment you’re sharing with yourself, your “hurt”, the photos and letters?
I can’t be sure if they were lies to begin with.
… and you can’t be sure they weren’t…
uh… what’s the best way to sift thru the sands of time?.. the sands of lies?
…also at a loss.
Could our lives get purer everyday, or do people become more corrupt with each passing moment?
Could you think of thoughts more divine? by the hour, by the minute?
Do you become more resigned, pessimistic, by the hour, by the minute?
It’s worse knowing things can never be the same.
At a point where two roads fork, you can rise and choose your vantage point.
Do you change directions and look at the point where the two roads diverge?
Or change position and focus on where they converge?
You are the traveler, the navigator of your own journey.
Your hands aren’t tied, you are the captain of your own soul.
You are mobile, you can change directions.
You have eyes, you can see
… you can change your line of vision.
The roads?
They can’t.
I appreciate the interest
Neither the lies or the truth are tangible. Therefore, do both exist? It is possible to feel something because them, such manifestations exist.
Her lies led me astray, the truth rescued me. The lies kept me blind and caring. Without knowledge of anything different, that feeling was quite real and intense. I miss it, already. Yet the truth hit me hard, and wasn’t easy to accept. So I can’t decide, but if something is born of lies. Can it ever be considered real?
Maybe the sands of lies, like the sands of time, just require patience. Eventually, the truth or the inevitable end prevails, although it does take longer than we expect.
I believe people change, it just happens, sometimes without reason.
I try to remain constant, but such events are likely to affect my opinion. Maybe we all become more wiser, by the hour, by the minute.
I would like to believe so, in my ability to decide a fate to my liking. It wasn’t what I wanted when the decision was mine to make. I just didn’t want to lose her, like I have.
At least I hold photos, to remember what was, after placing my grief one side.
oh, I love the kitty in the last one!
I made a pinhole camera once. it was awesome because you never really knew what you were taking a photo of, and everything always came out kind of morphed and creepy looking. I still dabble in it once in awhile, stuffing the crack under the bathroom door with towels and replacing the overhead light bulb with a red one from the dollar store.
The kitty is Emily’s little Wednesday! But with much lighter fur.
Yeah, we learned to develop film at summercamp. Good B&W film still beats out digital for resolution… but digital offers instant gratification and more affordable colour.