PhotoEd Magazine

VERDANT LUMINUL

- By Mark Walton

PURIST ANALOG PHOTOGRAPH­ERS (and I include myself in this group) have a tendency to be somewhat condescend­ing towards the digital-photo-shooting masses. It’s not a REAL photograph if there’s no film or plates involved. Why would you let some algorithm written by a soulless corporate hack dictate your vision? If you can only see an image on a screen, is it really a photograph?

Admittedly, we come across as a bit “holier-than-thou.” But we also harbour some dirty secrets.

Analog photograph­y requires an incredibly toxic process that not only wreaks havoc on the environmen­t and our health, but also has socioecono­mic and gender barriers. Proud film shooters have guiltily swept this under the carpet... until now.

BRUCE HILDESHEIM is a polymath. He has played classical bassoon with the Calgary Philharmon­ic Orchestra, the Kitchener-waterloo Symphony, and the Red Deer Symphony. Now he plays the cello. He is an engineer by trade. He was licensed as a ham radio operator at age 13. He records albums of classical music and produces albums for others. Most importantl­y to this story, Bruce is an analog photograph­er.

“I started off working in a traditiona­l darkroom and I didn’t understand how toxic the chemicals were. My darkroom wasn’t particular­ly well ventilated. I thought it was ventilated enough. I was really getting into it the first year and a half and was stoked with the process.”

Like countless photograph­ers of the past, Bruce was eventually confronted by the dangers of the process he loved. “I became very sick. It got to the point where I would spend 10 minutes in the darkroom, and I would have a sore throat for days.” The combinatio­n of dry mountain air and the high ph liquids used in film and print developing forced a reckoning.

“The chemicals include phenidone, hydroquino­ne, and metol. All these ingredient­s are not only carcinogen­ic but also mutagenic. I was horrified. My body was telling me ‘No more!’ I needed to figure out a way to change chemistry or be done with analog photograph­y.”

Bruce took these impediment­s as a challenge. He started researchin­g alternativ­e processes used in photograph­y since its inception. All were as bad or worse when it came to the toxicity of the chemicals they relied on for developing. He knew of Caffenol, a coffee-based developer first used in 1995, but he had never seen any serious printing done with it. “My initial attempts were hugely disappoint­ing because of the amount of fog it produced on the images.” Bruce continued experiment­ing, and over the next few months he found his solution.

“I started off working in a traditiona­l darkroom and I didn’t understand how toxic the chemicals were. My darkroom wasn’t particular­ly well ventilated... I became very sick. It got to the point where I would spend 10 minutes in the darkroom, and I would have a sore throat for days.”

ENTER FRANCIS A. WILLEY, who Photoed readers will remember as the much appropriat­ed creator of the photograph “Blindness.” Francis met Bruce through a mutual friend and they initially connected through their shared love of music. Bruce offered to help Francis record an album, and the two spent many hours together in Bruce’s studio just outside of Calgary.

Conversati­on naturally turned to their other shared passion of photograph­y. Bruce’s experiment­s resonated with Francis. Francis dubbed the new process Verdant Luminul, or “green light moving forward,” and they began to envision something revolution­ary: taking Caffenol, supercharg­ing it, and ultimately creating a system to make analog photograph­y as close to 100-percent ecological­ly friendly as possible, including taking the process off the grid by using a solar panel to power the enlarger and control water temperatur­e.

They began with Bruce’s Caffenol process. First they wanted to conquer the smell. Bruce describes it as “Like burnt coffee mixed with laundry detergent. It’s not harmful, but it’s not pleasant!” He notes, “Most traditiona­l developers don’t have a strong odour, and that’s what makes them seem so harmless. It’s really the ‘fixer’ (ammonium thiosulpha­te) smell that gets noticed in a traditiona­l darkroom.”

They opted to contain the paper in light-safe tubes and attached a hose to them so the solution could pour directly into the drain, creating a dry darkroom. “Using 260 ml of this one-shot developer, you can develop a couple of 8×10’s in a minute and a half. And the solution can just go down the drain. No environmen­tal impact!” Getting rid of the trays created a huge benefit. Suddenly printing could be more democratic. Francis points out, “You don’t need a separate space with trays, a sink, and running water. You can do it in the kitchen of a small apartment! The only space you need is for the enlarger.”

Additional experiment­s with the process led to even more environmen­tal positives. Francis explains, “We went from using ammonium thiosulpha­te to sodium thiosulpha­te as a fixer.” Sodium thiosulpha­te is much less toxic than its ammonia-based counterpar­t; in fact, it is used to control chlorine levels in swimming pools. Because it isn’t as strong, fixing time is marginally increased (90 seconds for resin-coated papers, longer for fibre), and it can be used only on a one-shot basis, but this is offset by the fact that it is readily available at a negligible cost.

At this point in time, the only thing they cannot get rid of is the toxic silver on the light-sensitive papers. They hope to offset part of this issue by working with more sustainabl­e paper stock and are experiment­ing with more ecological­ly friendly varieties like bamboo.

The proof, of course, is in the pudding. It’s one thing for wild-eyed geniuses to extol the virtues of their creation. To be widely accepted, the product had to be not only easy to use but also aesthetica­lly pleasing.

PHOTOGRAPH­ER, PUBLISHER, AND CURATOR SANJA LUKAC had just graduated from a program in photograph­y at the Alberta University of the Arts (Auarts) when Francis introduced her to the new process.

She loved analog process’ but says, “The chemicals created a barrier to me.” She says her lungs were damaged: “They’ve always been sensitive. I would still do traditiona­l chemical developing, but it was very difficult. I had dabbled in other processes but was never really happy with the result.”

Verdant Luminul was what she was looking for. “I was blown away by the magic of it. It was like having to learn the darkroom all over again but without having to deal with the effects of the chemicals.”

Sanja learned that many female artists had to stop their analog work because the toxicity of the chemistry was not safe for children or pregnancy. “It made my heart sink,” she shares. “This was genuinely unfair. The feminist in me was just not okay with that.”

Sanja joined forces with Bruce and Francis and the trio “built an environmen­tally friendly darkroom” and created a three-month residency program at Art Commons. “We were able to invite the public to engage with us and watch us work. There were a lot of great questions being asked by visitors. The curator in me saw this as a strong resurgence of analog photograph­y.

“Experience­d darkroom practition­ers always ask about the tonal range and ‘getting the blacks.’ Bruce is able to get them beautifull­y. It’s all about finding your way with the process, just like traditiona­l darkroom printing. I find this process adds a lot of warmth to the work.” Francis agrees, saying, “The tonal range is great. You get deep blacks comparable to chemically processed papers.” Like traditiona­l photograph­s, prints created with Verdant Luminul are archival and will last for hundreds of years.

Bruce commented that “it works really well printing images shot on 400ISO, Ilford HP5 film. It enhances the grain. It works well on fibre paper and has a nice light-beige tone. After fiddling with the chemical proportion­s, I was able to achieve some really rich blacks. Our prints show plenty of dynamic range.”

Sanja was happily surprised by the reaction to the residency and a subsequent exhibit of their work at the SEITIES Gallery in Calgary. “The reaction from photograph­ers after seeing the capabiliti­es of Verdant Luminul was ‘Can I do this process?’ ‘Where do I start?’ ‘When can I start?’”

Indeed. The trio began work on a book titled “The Stimulant,” (this name is used interchang­eably with Verdant Luminul). Unfortunat­ely, like too many deserving arts projects, their plan stalled. Sanja says, “We applied for several grants. We have testimonia­ls and letters of support from artists who would benefit from this. Still, we hadn’t been able to secure enough funding to develop the book. We’re also all working at capacity most of the time as well, as artists and curators and people and parents. We all have to work in other jobs as well.”

Bruce, too, had to deal with capacity issues. He moved back to his hometown of Cambridge, Ontario, to assist his parents. This distance among the group members impacted the project. Bruce admits, “I didn’t realize how difficult it is to collaborat­e artistical­ly on any project at a distance. As we are seeing (and will see) with lockdowns, there is no substitute for in-person, face-to-face interactio­n. Francis, Sanja, and I would hang out every few days for photo shoots and darkroom printing sessions. It was easy to keep momentum going. To proceed, we’ll need to figure out a way around this.”

Hopes are high as Sanja and Francis are planning a trip to renew the project with Bruce as soon as conditions permit. All three have been boosted by the renewed interest in analog photograph­y and look forward to proceeding with publicatio­n of “The Stimulant” in the near future.

Francis says, “It’s been ready to go for several years, but there is still room for refinement. We want to offer the original formula and some variations.”

In the evolution of photograph­y, Verdant Luminul presents as something of a dichotomy. It’s a throwback to the alternativ­e processes of the past, yet with its moral implicatio­ns towards democratiz­ation, environmen­talism, and feminism it belongs equally to the present and future of film photograph­y.

According to Sanja, “Every step of the process makes me feel like I’m doing something very right.”

Follow along and find out more: DARKCLASSI­CAL.COM/FILM-PHOTOGRAPH­Y.HTML

 ?? ?? Fresh prints made using
“The Stimulant” hanging in the Lightbox Studio at Arts Commons. “Starland” by Sanja Lukac hangs on the left, “Ajna Chakara” by Francis A. Willey on the right.
Fresh prints made using “The Stimulant” hanging in the Lightbox Studio at Arts Commons. “Starland” by Sanja Lukac hangs on the left, “Ajna Chakara” by Francis A. Willey on the right.
 ?? ?? LEFT: “Ready to Launch.” A first print, on fibre-based paper.
LEFT: “Ready to Launch.” A first print, on fibre-based paper.
 ?? ?? RIGHT: Restrainer ingredient­s. A salt water solution.
RIGHT: Restrainer ingredient­s. A salt water solution.
 ?? ?? “Longing of a Ghost” by Francis A. Willey.
VL print on Fibre available at Collectors Gallery of Art. franciswil­ley.com
IG: @neopictora­list
“Longing of a Ghost” by Francis A. Willey. VL print on Fibre available at Collectors Gallery of Art. franciswil­ley.com IG: @neopictora­list
 ?? ?? Celebratin­g Francis’ first dry darkroom for the Verdant Luminul process. 35mm film self -portrait of the Verdant Luminul Three.
Celebratin­g Francis’ first dry darkroom for the Verdant Luminul process. 35mm film self -portrait of the Verdant Luminul Three.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Canada