Images with feeling

The most attractive element of analogue is its delicacy. The analogue process has remained so ingrained into my practice, I can't imagine working in any other way. Seeking images which stir a feeling within and seeing that image through each stage of the process to finally create a hand-made darkroom print.

The print may not be perfect, I do not tirelessly work on test strips creating a technically perfect image, I never leave the confines of the darkroom to inspect the print once it has finished in the fix. It certainly isn't the way you are meant to print. I strive for perfection, yes.  However, the feeling of perfection for me comes on mass. It comes when I am exhausted to the bone after a day of printing. Dancing back and forth from the enlarger to the trays of chemicals, longing for more prints, always needing to make more and knowing I will never be satisfied with the number of prints I have created.  Looking at each print after a days work, watching them dry, inspecting them for imperfections. A spec of dust I missed, a small scratch on the negative which I didn't notice was there previously. The few discarded imperfect prints of the day alongside perfect prints which I protect as much as I possibly can in the drying process. Placing them in boxes which live underneath the bed. Not knowing if the work will ever be seen.

A quiet space

During university, the first time I had free reign of the darkroom, I fell in love, everything about it was seductive. Closing myself in an environment which was wonderfully quiet, a quiet space inside a loud building. Other than a few familiar faces,  I was often alone in there surrounded by the red light, watching my images appear. I was scarcely interrupted, and when I was it wasn't welcomed. The solitary of working in the darkroom was so important.

I never once questioned what I was doing. Watching other students perfect digital work or indeed digital negative scans on equipment that flew right over my head. Students making work with colour film, which seemed at the time to be very much in fashion. I was creating, the sole reason for me entering the sphere of art school. I never considered the studio or the technical aspects of the various cameras I was able to book out. I very rarely swayed away from my usual camera. It was only in my last year that I moved from 35mm to medium format. I went to art school with the sole intention to create, to build up as many tangible photographs as I physically could. I wanted to improve, I wanted to create photos and these photographs always came to fruition in the darkroom.

Back in 2015, I was not one of these many students who churned out books for their degree show. I was never able to commit to a sequence, nothing ever felt finished, nothing ever felt ready to commit to book form. There was also a need to use the darkroom as much as possible towards the end, the darkroom is the only place I wanted to be. Knowing that as my degree came to a close, I would lose the space I most longed to be in the world. There was no point in wasting time forcing a book when the work wasn't at that point yet.

Pieces of you

Post the final deadline I escaped to the darkroom as much as I could. It was during this time that I had managed to set up a meeting with Thomas Dukes, the curator at Open Eye Gallery, Liverpool. During the meeting we spoke about my work and I also had the chance to show him the work I was producing that morning in the darkroom, which was floating in the wash.

After that meeting, Thomas set in motion the Pieces of You show at Open Eye, which launched Spring 2016. The exhibition gave Thomas the chance to build a darkroom in the gallery space where I was able to continuously make work for around two months and present three different edits of the work, two of which were made in the Open Eye darkroom. The existence of the darkroom was only made possible with Ilfords help, the entirety of the equipment was loaned to Open Eye for the length of the exhibition, along with several boxes of fibre based paper that was generously given, too.

MACK First Book Award

When I was nominated for MACK First Book Award in 2017, I submitted a book I made specifically for that award. A maquette of negative scans, which I finished moments before the clock struck midnight before the year 2017 began.  I have never been able to translate my work well using scans. There is always something lacking comparing the scans to the heavy fibre based prints, with the curl of each corner. Everything about them being physical and original. The book was a mere touch on the potential of the work.

When I was invited to meet Michael Mack post the First Book Award, it was the portfolio created at Open Eye that I was able to take with me, so he could see how the work was meant to be seen.  I walked out of MACK studio a different person than I had been when I arrived, with the knowledge that within a year my own publication would be launched.

In essence, I really do believe if I hadn't invested so much time in the darkroom, making the work the way I love making it, which was the only way it ever made sense, I would not be standing in the position I am today. I have done my utmost best to keep my integrity within the work and that has only ever proved me well.