Last December, keen readers of this blog may remember, I took delivery of an Intrepid darkroom enlarger. I had helped crowdfund its development though I have no idea why - an impulse, I suppose.  Once it arrived I couldn’t be doing with it, so I put it in a cupboard.  To salve my conscience I said in my blogpiece (with a bravura that I didn’t really feel) that I would commit to producing by the end of the year a picture which I had darkroom developed and printed, then mounted and framed myself.  Well, the end of the year approaches – and I have not been  idle. 

In Spring, to convince myself that I was on the job, I bought a darkroom easel and focus magnifier secondhand from my local Real Camera Co.  Then feeling a certain resistance again I put them in the cupboard with the enlarger.  In these situations it is always best I find not to push things.  They will eventually happen of their own accord (or not, of course, just depending).

Late summer I found myself cleaning out the shed and realised this was a displacement activity.  For what, I wondered?  Then I found myself cleaning out the loft.  Aha!  I had been intending to use the bathroom as a darkroom but as I looked round the loft I realised it was a much better space though it had no running water.  Never mind.  I fashioned two rooflight blackouts from picture backing board and covered those with black cloth.  Then I bought some plyboard and black felt to block the trapdoor opening.

From ebay I bought a copystand to suspend the enlarger and an enlarging lens (a very fine Rodenstock Rodagon and the nearest I have ever come to getting a bargain on ebay).  I ordered some chemicals, trays and sundries and, miraculously, I was ready to go.

The first session was very tentative – not least because the rooflight blockers kept on falling down and flooding the space with light at the crucial moment of exposure.  I recategorised them as prototypes and wedged them into the velux frames more firmly.  Brute force, but there we are.

The lack of running water in the loft means that I can print only one or two photos at a time before shlepping them down the loftladders and into the bathroom to wash them.  Time consuming, but it does keep me fit.  By the end of the first session I had two test strips and three prints and I count that a success.  Second time round I got a bit quicker and produced two sets of contact prints; four test strips; and four working prints.

Some early conclusions:

·       It’s true what they say: when you see the picture appear in the developing tray – it’s magic;

·       It’s nowhere near as complicated as I had imagined.  The basic process is pretty straightforward even though producing a fine print is a great skill;

·       It’s not cheap.   I have spent over £500 though it could probably be done for half that with better husbandry.

The real revelation for me though is this: that looking at a photographic print fresh out of a developing tray and looking at one from a scanned negative on a computer screen are two completely different experiences.  The darkroom print is a bit like talking to someone in the flesh while the onscreen version is like talking to them on zoom.  No comparison.  

It’s now mid-October, so about ten weeks till the end of the year and my self-imposed deadline.  Werhoo - almost there.