
The image is of an enlarger, used to project, copy, or enlarge negative film images onto chemically sensitive paper, by moving the lens box up or down to achieve a variety of sizes, or to place filmstrips directly on the paper and press them down with a glass plate for contact sheets. The timed, light exposed paper is developed slowly in a chemical bath, and then fixed in another bath to stop the developing process. Next, the print is watered for a while and then dried on a hot press. Depending on the quality of the negative, it’s a delicate art to achieve the optimal gradation of light and shadow in a final print. The process happens in a darkroom with only a red light.
Much was destroyed during the Second World War, and my parents started out with nothing but their skills. My mother had trained as photographer at the Berlin Lette House (Academy,) where women were encouraged to acquire academic and industrial skills. My father, apart from being a talented artist, for whom there was no call, trained and worked as a fine mechanic. Together they moved south and started a photographic business. The enlarger in the image was built by my father during the early 1950 s.
I was not interested in the business (another story,) but eventually studied photography, and this enlarger served me through a decade of self-employment, based in Munich, including still photography for projects by directors of the then German New Wave Cinema. I could have continued working in the film scene, but instead became a hippy, a seeker, a psychotherapist, and a writer, in that order.
Five years ago I donated the enlarger to a local art college. They were very pleased. I’m still mourning.
Having been a big part of my life, I thought of posting something about my experience with analogue photography here, but was fretting because it’s a deeply emotional subject, for another day. So this post did not turn out as intended.
There are glimpses worth sharing. To explore and understand the shift from analogue to digital systems, I wrote an article about Human Identity in the Digital age: ‘Body Electric.’ You can read it as PDF, and find the link on the ‘Other’ page here. It is 20 pages plus notes and bibliography, but after all these years, I still think it is definitely worth reading.
A great book on photography and surrealism, L’Amour Fou, carries a quote by Roger Callois, which shines a light on the fading idea of an original:
‘It is with represented space that the drama becomes clear; for the living being, the organism, is no longer the origin of the coordinates, but is one point among others;; it is dispossessed of its privilege and, in the strongest sense of the term, no longer knows where to put itself.’
The analogue process provided rich metaphors to live by, while the oracular quality of the digital system has fragmented many assumptions and values we hold about human nature and reality. Thing is, I don’t think we have caught up yet. We are all a bit lost in space and time – which has become a theme of my two novels, (see my Books page.)
Yesterday I had a surreal dream, all about us, and others, being developed (in our mind) through our ongoing experience. In the process, it can happen that we, and others, become fixed into static existence through our attitude, and our need for permanence and certainty.
Maybe you should write a memoir. The punctum (Barthes term) for me in that photo is the bowl of seashells and again the children’s book “That Emil”. And the stack of record albums. But that your Dad invented the enlarger, very interesting. And the partially painted wall? Still developing. … But that last paragraph. I do wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled! What is a “fine” mechanic?
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Dad did not invent the enlarger, he built it from parts, with an excellent Leitz lens. Dad died in 2018, nearly 100 yrs old. He never quite got to grasp the digital development, but am sure he would have made good use of its potential, unlike me.
A fine mechanic is an engineer for fine instruments and systems, like clocks, cameras, complex machines etc. He would monitor and repair airplane engines during the war, in France.
I used this enlarger initially during the first films I did stills for during the 1970’s. I’d develop the films and print images to bring to the film set the next day. My pov frames inspired the directors I worked for, first Volker Schlondorrf, and later a camera man, Robby Muller, I remember.
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I was a wheeled and track vehicle mechanic. Had not heard the term “fine mechanic” before. Sounds like you were a busy and productive photographer!
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Yes, for ten years, with films, art exhibitions, theater, portraits etc. until I became a hippy 🙂
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