Beginnings

Two days ago I received by mail a 3D printed scanning tray, expertly crafted by Stephan Scharf, whom I was introduced through a Facebook group titled Nikon Coolscan Users- referred to hereafter as the Coolscan Collective. Stephan, located in Germany, has no website and virtually no marketing for his tray other than a handful of YouTube videos and a number of group members who swear by his work. He prints these trays in his spare time, and one tray can accommodate a number of adapters for various films from 35 to 120 as well as a glass fitting adapter for wet plate scanning. The Coolscan Collective is a remarkable resource for anyone who owns a Coolscan scanner- I’ve never witnessed such profound support and camaraderie (with exception to the Padlock Collectors Facebook group I found myself in, though I don’t collect padlocks- a story for another day).

Now, equipped with a Nikon Coolscan 9000, a decade worth of negatives, and some newfound time, I am embarking on this journey.

Up until recently, I had almost no method of organization for any of the personal work that I made. I was propelled by both erratic intuition and instant gratification. I do not recall ever creating a contact sheet, simply using that intuition to scan the images I thought best, and, if they made it back into their respective sleeve, it was sometimes upside down or backwards. Sleeves also did not contain important dates or other useful information I once thought I would remember interminably. In addition to my disorganization, I was creating work with a Hasselblad which had a focusing issue. It is hard to say whether the camera was purchased with this issue or if it began after I slipped while running up some concrete steps causing the Hasselblad to go careening into the staircase, breaking my fall. It’s also hard to say whether saving my face from breaking my fall was the better choice. And if all of that wasn’t enough, I was also working part time as a photo lab technician for a drugstore chain that couldn’t process medium format film… unless I was able to find a cartridge for the machine. Unbeknownst to them, and unfortunately for me, I found that cartridge and I processed my film for a number of years through that poorly kept machine, despite the proper care I took to keep it running smoothly. Sometimes chemical stains happened.

As it turns out, I did not then know which images were best and I have found myself pouring over pages upon pages of negatives wondering why I had not picked one photograph in particular or what year another one was taken. Ultimately, the story I imagined I was telling for my family then has almost nothing to do with the story I would tell now. I think, I’m realizing, that I am that story: every out of focus photograph, every chemical stain, all of the lost dates and misfiled negatives, all of it.

This is a photograph I made of Aunt Linda during the Summer of 2013. We trekked out to Thompson, Connecticut to visit the property of a former job my father had. He had been self-employed for a number of years as a mason and reconstructed numerous original stone walls, as pictured behind her. I remember running through those fields as a young kid while he worked. If my memory is correct, this property and the home on this property are the first in Thompson.

This is my first blog post.