The Heart Asks for Pleasure First

Finally ran a short 6.5 miles today. Weather was cold and brisk out on the South Farms Road, but as always, enjoyable to take in the immensity of the landscape.

I did not have much time for darkroom work today because of a small dinner party, but I did manage to work 2 hours, and was only 6 minutes late for our guests.

I am starting to make some progress in not only printing technique, but the ability to see beyond the negative - to imagine it as a rough sketch, and the silver paper as a blank canvas upon which I can apply paint. Minor White once wrote, "One should not only photograph things for what they are, but for what else they are."

I chose a negative today which I exposed a few years ago at Lake Pontchartrain, Louisiana. The lake is immersed in fog, the main focus of the picture being a small shrub jutting over the water.

The initial print was a mass of gray flatness. I gazed at the print floating in the water tray, deciding what needed to be lightened and darkened. After a few more prints I had a light sky, a dark shoreline, and some grayish water. It was not too bad, but I found myself gazing at the print longer than normal. There was something I had not yet seen, but it was there, I could feel it.

I was reminded of a chess game I once played. The middle game was coming to an end in a complicated position. As I stared at the scattered remaining pieces, something inside my heart told me to look further, because there was a beautiful move to be found. Unfortunately I ran out of time and could not find what my instincts had told me was there. Perhaps the voice was wrong, however, and there was nothing there.

A few days later I took the time to reestablish the position on a computer program. Within a few seconds the computer had found the move - a queen sacrifice which led to checkmate in 3 moves. It was beautiful and startling, amazing because it was right there for my eyes, but I had not been able to see it.

Even more important than the actual move, was the metaphysical experience - how did my instincts know it was there, and if it knew it was there, why could I not find it? Standing over the print, gazing at the various tones, my heart hinted that something more was in the picture, I only had to look and see. With time running out on me for the evening, I asked myself, if I was painting this, what would I do? I decided I would lighten the water to pearl white, and paint a deep gray horizontal cloud across the middle of the sky. Having found the visual solution, I now had to figure out how to achieve it by painting with light.

My initial solution required having an odd shaped dodging tool to block the light from reaching the water. I did not have such a tool, and thought about making one with cardboard. I then became aware of a more subtle move - to burn in the shore on the left side of the paper by blocking out the water and the sky, which could be done with my hands. I knew the shore needed 28 seconds of light to reach optimal shadow density. The water needed 13-14 seconds of light. If I burned the shore for 15 seconds I could then turn off the light.

Leaving the whole picture uncovered, I could then turn the light on for 13 seconds. The land would be exposed for 28, the water for 13. That left the sky to be worked with.

By this time the sky had a straight 13 seconds light. I needed about 45 seconds more light in the middle of the sky to create the deep gray horizontal band.

I took two rectangular cards and placed them together. Turning on the light I opened the cards enough to allow the correct amount of light to strike the picture in the sky.

When the paper was placed in the developer, I watched the scene I had envisioned come alive. It was a beautiful feeling - using technique, memory, and knowledge to create something beautiful - to photograph a thing not only for what it is, but for what else it is.

Print Info Sheet for Lake Pontchartrain, Fog Study

The 2 prints from yesterday's session dried. (See top of entry for the other print.)

The Railyard, Winter Study, Version 2
Printed 2008

A haunting piece for piano :