Making Contact

When the table top becomes too cluttered with rubbish, sometimes the only thing for it is to elbow some space amongst the junk and create a little clearing, so the thing you thought you had lost might creep out to meet you.

This is what I did the other night, losing time in a darkroom whilst making some photograms. Beautiful old craft, watching the way light falls around objects, capturing the evidence on light-sensitive paper. Standing at the enlarger, gently arranging tiny beads and balancing big glass jars, shining light beams, patiently sloshing the paper through the trays, carefully wrapping washed and dried prints to bring home, sticking them on the wall. No paperwork to file.

Photograms are a form of contact print. Objects pressed onto paper more firmly present a clearer outcome. Punchy, strong true black and true white rely on full contact being made. It is what it is, or it will not be anything. What I hold in my hand is what actually happened, appearing out of nothing because things came together. This immediacy is immensely satisfying. Its clarity is refreshing.

Making direct contact is not complicated. It's all the guff around the edge that gets in the way.

I elbowed space, and it crept out to meet me. I love having made contact again.

Worried about having lost something?


{Today's Soundtrack: U2 - Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For}