At a young age I was drawn to the technology of traditional, film-based photography. I built a darkroom in my parent’s garage, and experimented with everything from Cibachrome to dye transfer to silkscreening. I found the technology fascinating and fun to play with. My first camera was a medium format Mamiya 645. It was a great camera that I kept for many years, but the enlarged photographic prints didn’t look quite as good as those that I admired.

I became interested in large format photography after discovering Fred Picker’s Zone VI newsletters. He had a very “down home” viewpoint, and emphasized simplicity and the creative process. I built a wooden 4×5 field camera, rented lenses from Calumet, and focused my new camera on my native California. As I learned the technique of large format photography I began to notice that many other photographers focused purely on the technique. They spent a lot of time studying the zone system, and shooting pictures of resolution charts. I remember my piano teacher emphasized that technique must be mastered before creative expression can begin. This idea seemed especially applicable to photography. I simplified my tools and focused on what to point my camera at.

Some say the end results are all that matter, I couldn’t disagree more. To me the journey is as important as the destination. My camera encourages me to explore things that I find interesting, to go places I might not otherwise go, and to experience things I might not otherwise experience. In the field my tools have not changed much since Ansel Adam’s days. I did eventually upgrade my wooden 4×5 camera to a more modern lightweight metal version, and finally saved the money to invest in a number of excellent lenses. With these tools (which I have had for over 10 years now) I have reached a comfort point where I no longer have to think about the technology involved, the process has become second nature. The practice of photography has become the practice of looking, of imagining what a scene will look like in print.

Back at home in my darkroom I make enlarged, silver gelatin prints as the greats have done before me. The printing process itself is very simple; expose paper to light and bathe it in two different chemicals. The creative controls, while limited, present more than enough options to create a print that conveys my artistic vision, while still assuring the viewer that the scene actually existed at some moment in time. I enjoy the beauty of this classic process for what it is. It is not trying to emulate anything, it just is. Next to a brightly colored digital print it may seem a bit old fashioned, but I find a certain magic in this time honored process. I hope you enjoy.

Cheers,