Is It Worth It?

If you don't want to read more about my photo/big-assed camera journey, stop here, because that's "what I got."  

As I had planned to do, I got out yesterday to a stretch of highway I had travelled the day before thinking there were many wonders I wished to photograph with my big-assed camera.  

I couldn't find them.  

What had I been thinking?  The road was a string of apartment complexes and strip malls.  I stopped once, at a skating rink.  I popped a couple pictures, but they won't turn out to be much.  After that, I turned the car toward my home.  

When I got there, I was excited to develop the film I had shot on Saturday.  The first thing to do was load all the film onto the film holders in the dark tent and get them into the developing tank.  But wait--where was the film?  I looked high and low and couldn't find them, so I went back to the car.  Nope nope nope.  I was frantic--then I came to the horrible conclusion.  I had been shooting on the same film that day that I had shot on the day before.  

O.K.  It was only a couple, I consoled myself.  I had fucked up a lot, but again. . . all part of the learning curve. 

I got out the big tank.  Now I was forgetting everything I knew or thought I knew.  I went to the computer to pull up info again.  Chemical mixtures.  Tank time.  Agitation.  I went to the manufacturers instructions page.  Not what I remembered.  O.K.  

That took an hour.  

Finally, I was ready to load the film.  I put eight double sided film holders, the two developing tank holders, four to a side, sixteen in total, and the developing tank inside the big tent.  I slipped my hands through the sleeves.  I opened the first film holder, slipped out the film, and tried to fit it into the tank holder.  Harder now than it was in the kitchen in full light. Then the second.  I couldn't get it in.  I tried and tried but couldn't figure it out.  Big, deep breathes.  I was ready to quit.  Fuck this.  I'd just pay and let the lab do it.  But I didn't quit, and maybe forty-five minutes later, I had all the film in the holders.  I thought.  But when I tried to put them in the tank, a couple sheets of film fell out.  I fumbled around wondering if I had done any of it right.  Fuck it.  I didn't care at this point.  I got everything into the tank, closed it up, and unzipped the tent.  

Now for the souping.  I poured in a half gallon of diluted Rodinal developer, rotated the tank for thirty seconds, and placed it on the counter.  I set the timer for 30 minutes.  That is when I would do this once more.  

I liked this way of developing.  I took my wash cloths and towels out of the dryer, folded them, and put them away.  I wrote some texts and sent Happy Summer Solstice cards.  The timer went off.  Then I was free for another thirty minutes.  

After that, it was just the usual fixing and rinsing.  And then it was the moment of truth.  How badly had I fucked up?  I took the film from the holders one by one, and. . . I had twelve well developed negatives.  I hung them to dry and decided to drive to the film lab to pick up what they had.  

When I got there, though, the negs weren't done.  WTF?  

Well, they did have a few.  Flummoxed, I took them and headed back to the house.  I would scan what I had brought home.  

The image at the top was the first one. Not much.  Firstly, I made mistakes in scanning that I didn't realize.  Working on the negative was difficult.  Horrible.  Then I realized I had scanned the first two sheets as small jpegs.  I rescanned them as TIFF files.  Now they were making more sense.  But the one at top was just not. . . the focus.  The arms of the chair are in perfect focus, and her shirt and shoulders, but her face. . . .  I don't get it.  The focus on that camera is simply razor thin.  I did my best to bring it around, then I sent it to A.I. with the command, "Bring the face into perfect focus."

It did.  But I don't know if it looks like the girl in the picture.  I only saw her that one time.  Comparing the two, though, I despaired.  

The other negative I scanned had the couple I had talked to, the photographer and his model wife.  They were both on the negative, but not together.  It was a double exposure.  Shit piss fuck goddamn.  

How long, oh lord. . . how long?  

It was getting close to dinnertime with mom's neighbors and I still had to shower, so that was all I got done for the day.  I showered and drove to get a bottle of Vouvray to take to dinner.  I got back to my mother's with fifteen minutes to spare, so I made a quick Hugo Spritz, sat in the garage, and waited for my mother.  

The rest of the evening was carrying the conversation with the neighbor couple and their friend.  Three hours.  Of course, when it was over, so was I.  

Today will be more scanning.  I'll see if any of the hanging negatives are what they should be.  I'd been smart enough on Saturday not to shoot people.  I don't want to have to send them out of focus or double exposure photos.  It is embarrassing.  I won't shoot people with that camera again until, if ever, I can get consistently good photos of trees and rocks and buildings.  Then. . . maybe.  

I'll need to practice loading those developing tank holders, too.  All of this for what?  

Yes. . . you can make better photos with your phone.  And with the help of A.I. you can turn them into anything you want.  

"O.K., grandpa. . . that's a hell of a camera.  Hell of a process.  I guess it keeps you busy, eh?"

"You bet, kid.  Hey. . . you look like a real hepcat.  Have you heard this one?"