Ready for the Impossible

The Polaroid processor and film holder arrived yesterday.  I have everything I need to shoot the 8x10 Impossible film--except film.  It may be here today (does the post office still deliver on Saturdays?).  If not, I will have to wait until next week.  But soon I will post a new sort of image for me.  That should kill the blog completely.

Yesterday, I began constructing a box that will allow me to shoot collodion images out of doors.  I am not handy.  I can't even put the tape on the seams without crinkling it.  But I am working on it and will complete it soon.  Then I will begin making big tintypes, too.

And there are other processes I'm interested in.  And if I had the time, that is all I would do.  I don't get the kick out of a lot of things that I used to do.  I've lived extensively.  Now I feel the need to produce.

A friend of mine--a real working artist whose entire livelihood comes from his work--came to the studio yesterday and saw the prints I had recently stacked neatly into groupings.  There are some new works on the walls, too.  He has always been polite about my work and even helpful, but he has never shown the kind of enthusiasm he exhibited over it yesterday.

"You have to get a show," he declared.

"I know.  How?"

I don't know how.  All I know is how to make pictures and spend money.  I'm clever that way.

I am clever in other ways, too.

But not so much at writing today.  Not at all.

I have projects in mind, but I won't tell them just now.  I will do them first.  I've told too many already that I have never done.  But that is fun, too, right?  All the broken promises that only irritate you in a minor way and allow you to scoff at someone who hardly matters.  I've done it myself.