babinscreams

Yesterday I took apart the bench and shelves that comprised our darkroom. Following the dictates of painters, real estate agents, and common sense, the space in which you and I once shared so much forever changed. What a fabulous laboratory our darkroom was - a goddamn closet in what should have been a bedroom for the sibling I never had (I'm not complaining). The stains of chemical splash marks are still there. The light-tight shade you devised isn't there; when did you take that down? Speak up! So, there I am yesterday, pulling out the structure that held the enlarger and trays of chemicals (By the way, the enlarger and accessories went to Manual Arts High School in South Central Los Angeles. The photography teacher came out and got a bunch of stuff. He showed me the work of one student, an autobiography in captioned, black and white photos that tore my heart out.). I was struck by the craftsmanship of your construction. You actually used oak plywood for the bench; your faste