depth of feel
a word about the state of affairs in the world today, in the spring of 2020.
i was planning to post this essay about a month ago, finally, after not writing about the darkroom for 4 years, but as i write this the world has changed. we are in a global lockdown due to covid-19, coronavirus, most of us inside our homes trying not to get infected, or pass it on to others. people are dying from this virus and my darkroom doesn't seem so important anymore.. yet i am still running to stay healthy, and the text is written already. i hope it brings you a moment of solace today.
it starts with closing the door.
it's not a darkroom until you close the door, and the run doesn't start until you close the door behind you and face the road ahead. running and printing are coming closer together in my life as the years go by. when i make a print i am aware that the final product is of any interest to anyone, anyone except me. to me the process makes the print, and very few care to hear me go on -and on- about the details regarding my choices of light source, lens, dodging movements and the elegance of the gesture to move wet paper from tray to tray. and rightly so. the people i print for need a print they'll be proud to show, and the process of taking the picture is of greater interest to their audience.
i close my front door to go for a run the same way i close my darkroom door, ready to be in the moment for the next few hours, whether i start the clock forward or backward. tic toc tic toc. analogue printing and long distance running provide a continuous experience in the present. there is no save button, once the action starts i have to commit or start again from scratch. both demand a certain level of concentration i am comfortable with. they both require a rhythm that can only come as a reflex. the technique needs to become second nature. then, and only then, i can truly print in the moment, only then i can run by feel. i aspire to print and run with the clock as a suggestion only, able to change and adapt as i see fit. tic toc tic toc.
i also need to find the right motivation, i need to rise up and set goals within reach to feel satisfied about doing it in the first place. when i started to run -even coming from years of playing and coaching soccer- 3 miles, or 5k, was difficult. i knew i had to get past that, so i signed up for a half-marathon and trained. the experience was so wonderful i then signed up for the nyc marathon. i now know why i run, i want to know my limits, i want to experience the silent loneliness of the long run. for the same reason i needed to get past the average print decades ago. even today i still learn to push my enlarging techniques a bit further, i need to find a reason for an image to be on paper in the first place. i want to have a tear at the corner of my eye when i look at the final print. i need to be exhausted after a long run to feel alive. i now train for and run ultra-marathons because i know i will reach my limits. i put all of myself into a print, i pour all of myself into a run. tic toc tic toc.
there are a number of things to do within a certain amount of time. the structure suits me, i visualize time as a three dimentional entity, i move through it aware of its limits, of my limits, and i push to fit more life between on and off. time slows down so i can set my pace, i choose a pace appropriate for the day's task. a half-hour recovery run is nothing like a 3 hour long run. my brain looks at a negative in very different ways depending on what i need to print: every frame from a roll of 35mm film on 5x7 in. paper demands a preparation that has nothing to do with setting up an 8x10 in. negative for a mural print up to 56x90 in.
i know how long it will take me to go through a number of negatives, i have deadlines before i proceed. if i go too fast i may make mistakes, too slow and the show can't go on. i pace myself so the show does go on, when i run i pace myself to avoid injuries and run the full 3 or 4 hours, or whatever distance i have set beforehand. tic toc tic toc.
when i say i'm a darkroom printer i'm asked how i can stand the smell of those horrible chemicals 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. and when i say i'm a long distance runner people seem to be really worried about my knees all of a sudden. what brings these two activities closer together over time in my life are the automatisms that emerge from the constant practice i enjoy from both.
i run to work - #runcommute - as a regular way of life. the early morning run, carrying my clothes in a backpack, clears my mind for the day. it's not exactly like meditating, but it helps get rid of the clutter before i step into the darkroom. sometimes i figure out the order of things to come that day. sometimes i run over a bridge, or along the river and simply enjoy the run, whatever the season. my shortest run-commute is 6 1/2 miles, but i can extend it several ways when i need to, if i'm training for a race for example.
after almost 30 years of printing professionally i still practice and experiment with my own work to keep my craft sharp. i train to keep my exposing technique clean, the same way at times i sprint up the williamsburg bridge in near freezing temperatures, focused on my form, with controlled breaths, free of thoughts. or when i choose a flatter road and let my legs move, my arms swing and get lost in thoughts about life. either way i run a few miles that's what really matters. a similar experience happens in the darkroom, same negative different day, i either expose for the shadows and burn highlights, or expose for the highlights and dodge shadow details. i have to adapt to how i feel in that particular moment. if my dodging movements seem forced and awkward i switch to another way to achieve a print, a way that matches my mood. i could be having a great experience letting light through my fingers in certain places onto the paper, yet unable to hold it back gracefully in other areas, it might not show, but i will see it, the print won't feel right, it won't speak to me. certain days i need to practice the movements necessary to follow my mental printing map. i touch the paper with my fingertips, i close my eyes, slowly move my arms, elbows, wrists. i bend my knees and memorize the dance of the eminent final exposure. automatisms help with the flow and precision of the movements in the dark. exposing a mural print on the wall looks a bit like tai chi, and running gives me the muscle control i need to get through an 8 hour day, 5 days a week producing print after print. i sign up for races months ahead to keep my motivation up, it helps me suit up, get outside and run, it helps me close the door, set up the negative and print.