epiphany

I realize that most people are not going to care what I do to tone my prints. It’s probably enough, they know I ruin lots! They will either like my work or not. What I’m trying to put out here is something about me, what I take away from my time in my darkroom, maybe how I got here. While I am toning, all done in full light, What confronts me are all my weaknesses and strengths. Examples could be patience and greed. As I am watching the print change, at speeds of an hour hand on a clock, looking better and better, to pull it at its peak, before in an instant, it turns into nothing, is the challenge. Some days my chemistry is working, everything is in balance and I watch the magic. So often one becomes mesmerized by this process, only to discover later, they were fooled.—————– I have a memory, of my last ride, on my first time, thumbing cross country, in an orange-red Mustang, rolling down US66, through western towns. Driving on two lane highways, Slower cars moving to the shoulder, allowing other cars to pass. Driving through Albq. When it was a western town, not the Albq. I lived in 18 years later, when the orange barrels had invaded. Recently I was reminded of a time of decay without graffiti. When I first got to Calif. I ended up in Santa Monica. To the south was Venice and the closed Ocean Park Pier. On that condemned pier I have a friend, who I did not know at the time, that was homeless and lived on that pier. Ha had a camera and made photographs of his home. He had always treasured these negatives as they captured his life of that time. He now lives on the Venice Boardwalk(concrete) with a 2nd floor balcony, over looking the spot where the pier had stood. He asked me to print some of these negatives a few months ago and what was so striking to me was there was no graffiti. The decay had a romantic feeling unto itself. Graffiti has always had a place in culture, it was just more covert. I recall a conversation with Ruthann Hubbert Kemper the woman who first told me about Hobo Graffiti, a sophisticated set of signals the hobos used to identify who would help, who was trouble etc. Ruthann, the Executive Director of the Capitol Preservation Committee, told me of opening walls in the capitol and finding Graffiti referencing various political players of the time.———- I imagine a story beginning with a group of indians, a hunting party, camped at a place, possibly on the Volcanos west of Albq. I would think this a time well before any Europeans had found there way to the New World. They have been out for many days, tracking this animal and feel that they are close. On the rock face, they begin to carve their plan, assigning each in the party a task. they feel this is a good place and they mark this place either to let others know of this place or to lay claim. From here, to flash forward to a group of inner city kids,in a neighborhood by their wall. To explore all that this wall is to them,then to flash back to the hobo Graffiti seeing how these communications assisted a large group of people through a very dangerous time. I figure it to end with voyager being launched. —- So I guess your wondering how or why I end up here? The entire time that the hubbell was being repaired,all I heard was talk about space junk! Now it seems, they know they have a problem. Why is no one talking about cleaning this mess up? These are really smart people. Do they think the cleaning up can be handled later by us dummies