Photography Was Born from Death Anxiety

In Flashes of Brilliance, Anika Burgess maps the birth of photography across the 19th century—a strange, luminous era where light first learned how to remember. But underneath the surface of these technical milestones is something deeper: the same existential terror Ernest Becker exposed in The Denial of Death. Photography, from the beginning, was a defense against our disappearance.

The daguerreotype, introduced by Louis Daguerre in 1839, wasn’t just a new technology—it was a cultural event. Suddenly, faces could outlive their flesh. Sitting for a portrait was serious business. You had to be still for minutes, sometimes longer, and the result was a haunted likeness, sealed in silver and glass. It was more than documentation—it was a bid for immortality. Becker might say it was a way to manage death anxiety by creating a symbolic self that could outlast the body.

Before Daguerre, Nicéphore Niépce spent years coaxing ghostly images from bitumen and sunlight. His exposures took days. His results were vague, barely-there impressions—like memory itself. Still, he was trying to do what we all do: leave a trace.

The real turning point came with Frederick Scott Archer’s wet collodion process in 1851. It was faster, sharper, and allowed for duplication. Suddenly, your image could exist in multiple places at once. You didn’t just resist death—you replicated yourself. The carte de visite, popularized shortly after, took this further. You could hand out tiny portraits like tokens of your existence, proof that you’d been here, that you mattered.

And it wasn’t just about faces. Flash powder brought violent light into dark rooms, revealing what the eye couldn’t see. Solar enlargers, early color processes, even underwater photography—all pushed the boundaries of time and space. Burgess notes that many photographers were driven by obsession, risk, even self-destruction. They were intoxicated by the possibility of preservation. Isn’t that what Becker called the “immortality project”? Whether through fame, art, religion, or science—we’re always trying to escape the void.

Photography, in its early years, was dangerous (read Bill Jay’s “Dangers in the Dark”). Mercury, ether, explosive chemicals. But what else would we expect from a practice rooted in anxiety? It was an alchemy fueled by fear and longing. It gave people the illusion of permanence, even as everything around them was vanishing.

Burgess’s book isn’t just a history—it’s a reminder that every photograph is a symptom of our condition. It’s a way to say: I was here. I saw. I mattered.

As someone who works with 19th-century processes today, I feel that tension every time I pour collodion or pull a plate from the fixer. The medium has always been about death. About holding onto something just long enough to believe we’re not already disappearing.

And maybe that’s the brilliance Burgess is talking about. Not just in the chemical spark of silver meeting light—but in the way humans, terrified of their own impermanence, invented a machine to freeze time.

What a 19th-Century Photograph Reveals About Power, Privilege and Violence in the American West

Martha A. Sandweiss's The Girl in the Middle: A Recovered History of the American West delves into a single 1868 photograph taken at Fort Laramie. In this image, six federal peace commissioners are posed with a young Native American girl, whose identity was long forgotten. While the men are named, the girl remained anonymous until Sandweiss's meticulous research identified her as Sophie Mousseau.

Sandweiss uses this photograph as a lens to explore the intertwined lives of its subjects and the broader context of westward expansion during the Reconstruction era. She examines the roles of figures like Alexander Gardner, the photographer known for his Civil War images; William S. Harney, a Union general with a violent reputation among the Lakota; and Samuel F. Tappan, an abolitionist involved in investigating the Sand Creek massacre.​

The narrative brings to light Sophie's life, marked by personal hardships and the systemic challenges faced by Native Americans as settlers encroached upon their lands and the federal government enforced reservation policies. Through this focused historical inquiry, Sandweiss not only recovers a lost individual story but also offers a profound reflection on how history is recorded and remembered.​

From The Girl in the Middle: A Recovered History of the American West by Martha A. Sandweiss. Copyright © 2025. Available from Princeton University Press.

Martha A. Sandweiss's The Girl in the Middle: A Recovered History of the American West posits that by uncovering the identity and life story of Sophie Mousseau—the unnamed Native girl in an 1868 photograph—we can challenge and enrich the conventional narratives of the American West. Sandweiss argues that this single image, often overlooked, encapsulates the complexities of westward expansion, highlighting the intertwined lives of individuals from disparate backgrounds during a transformative period in American history. By bringing Sophie's story to the forefront, the book emphasizes the importance of recognizing marginalized voices to gain a more comprehensive understanding of the past.

This book deals directly with what I’ve been working on for years. This book highlights the blatant instances of othering and TMT. The abuse and marginalization of the Native Americans was, and still is, unreal.

Read the article here.

Editing Artwork For My Book

Writing is an exercise in balance. It's the skill of retaining a reader's interest for an extended period, guiding them through the intricacies of your story. And let’s be honest—it’s hard to do well.

As a visual artist, I’ve spent years working in mediums I deeply understand: photography and visual arts. Writing, though? That’s a newer addition to my creative repertoire. Am I a writer? Maybe. Ask me again after you’ve read my book. For now, I’ll say this: I’m proud of the work I’ve done, but I’m acutely aware of the challenges. Writing isn’t about grammar or structure alone—it’s about connection. It’s about creating something that resonates, that lingers. Time will be the judge of whether I’ve succeeded.

In contrast, when it comes to visual art, I know my footing. I’ve spent decades refining my craft, immersed in observation, thought, and exploration. Despite my confidence, I find myself at a crucial juncture. I’m editing the visuals for my book—selecting which photographs and artworks will make it to print. The process is as exciting as it is painstaking. With over 200 pieces to choose from, I’m paring it down to 50, maybe 75. Every cut feels like a sacrifice.

How do I choose? For me, it’s all about context—how each image aligns with the narrative. The connection between the visuals and the text has to be seamless. Every photograph, every piece of artwork, must do more than look beautiful; it must amplify the story, offering a lens into its deeper layers.

This process reminds me of something essential: storytelling, whether through words or images, isn’t about showing everything—it’s about showing the right things. It’s about creating space for meaning, for resonance. And if I can do that, then maybe—just maybe—I’ll have a successful piece of work.

I still remember the first time I encountered the term homo narrans. The idea struck me immediately: storytelling, not language or reasoning, is what sets humans apart from other species. It suggests that we make decisions based on the coherence of stories rather than cold, hard logic. That resonates deeply with me. Storytelling isn’t just something we do—it’s how we make sense of our world, how we uncover meaning, and how we better understand ourselves.

Humans, though, carry an extraordinary burden. We’re the only creatures who know we’re alive and, someday, will die. That knowledge—whether we admit it or not—is crushing. Most of us suppress it, carrying the weight unconsciously. But it shows up, often in destructive ways, shaping our behavior and relationships in ways we don’t always recognize.

I see it every day. People walking around, bogged down by what some thinkers call the "overabundance of consciousness." There’s even a theory that our awareness of mortality—our recognition of death—was an evolutionary misstep. It’s hard not to feel that sometimes. But I also know this: if we hadn’t evolved the ability to deny and distort the reality of death, we wouldn’t have survived. That’s clear to me. Fear would have paralyzed us, kept us from taking risks, from facing danger, from living.

Think about it. We drive cars, walk across busy streets, play contact sports—all things that carry real risk. If we were constantly aware of what could go wrong, we’d be immobilized. And in our younger years, we pushed those limits even further. Some of us didn’t make it. I’ve written about those moments—stories of risk-taking and the tragic outcomes they sometimes led to. And yet, we still carry on, fueled by the unspoken belief: it won’t happen to me. That denial is what makes action possible, what allows us to survive, even thrive.

This dynamic fascinates me. The way we navigate mortality—the lies we tell ourselves, the unconscious bargains we strike—is at the heart of what it means to be human. As I’ve studied these ideas, I’ve come to understand just how central this denial is to our survival. It’s a feature of our evolution, not a flaw.

I’m excited to see these ideas come to life in my book. If you're interested, stay tuned to this blog for updates on its release date. I’m still deciding the best format: hardcover, softcover, audiobook, Kindle? Maybe all of the above. Stay tuned. It’s coming soon.

The Diversity in My New Book

In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Origins of Evil (expected to be published sometime in 2024)

You’re going to start seeing some "comps" posted here every once in a while. These are ideas that I have for my book. As I look through the images, some of the pairings absolutely astound me; they are more beautiful and aesthetically pleasing than I could have imagined.

I’m still undecided about how the final layout will look, but I wanted to play with mixing them up—POP with RA-4 color—living with them and running some ideas through my head. I think it looks stunning. I’ve never seen POP prints paired with Color Reversal Direct prints. Gorgeous! 

Right now, it’s a 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm) hardcover, full-color book. I expect it to be about 250 pages with over 100 images: RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Prints, Palladiotypes, Platinum-Palladium, Kallitypes (both K1 and K2 variants), Cyanotypes, Calotypes (Paper Negatives), Photogenic Drawings, and much more. The POP prints are from both wet and dry collodion as well as direct contact printing from plant material (photogenic drawings), like Salt prints.

“What do we mean by the lived truth of creation? We have to mean the world as it appears to men in a condition of relative unrepression; that is, as it would appear to creatures who assessed their true puniness in the face of the overwhelmingness and majesty of the universe, of the unspeakable miracle of even the single created object; as it probably appeared to the earliest men on the planet and to those extrasensitive types who have filled the roles of shaman, prophet, saint, poet, and artist. What is unique about their perception of reality is that it is alive to the panic inherent in creation.”

— Ernest Becker

“The Great Mullein” Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative and a 10”” x 10” RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print

“Antlers Are Bone: Profile,” 10”” x 10” RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print, and “Mountain Stone Water Dish,” Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative.

“Three Aspens” Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative and “Ponderosa Pine and Five White Daisies” 10”” x 10” RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print

“Antlers Are Bone” Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative and a 10”” x 10” RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print

“Dead Ponderosa and Granite Rock Face” Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative and “Dead Daisies in a Glass Graduate," 10” x 10” RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print

“Red Rock Formation-Fremont County, Colorado,” a 10”” x 10” RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print and “The Great Aspen Man” Whole Plate Palladiotype from a Calotype (paper negative) Greenlaw’s process.

“Turkey Feathers and Antlers,” a 10”” x 10” RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print and “Medicine Wheel," a Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative.

“The Great Mullein,” a 10”” x 10” RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print and “Meadow Barley",” Whole Plate Photogenic Drawing from the plant itself (direct contact print).

A stack of prints—almost 200 prints—color, pop, calotypes (paper negatives), photogenic drawings, etc. And I still have about 3 months of image making left this year!

Summary of My Project: In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering

DEATH ANXIETY & THE DENIAL OF DEATH
This project has a level of complexity in communicating what it is, what it’s about, and the objective of the work. It is very complex in one sense and, in another, very simple and straightforward. It’s simply expounding on theories of human behavior (Becker et al.) that affect all of us and the implications of them. I would sum up the objective of the work using Carl Jung’s idea of making the unconscious conscious. That’s what I would like to have happen: The average person would be able to accommodate and assimilate these ideas and understand their universal implications.

From the book, “The Worm at the Core: The Role of Death in Life,” by Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg, and Tom Pyszczynski. This is a great book. I encourage you to read it.

This is what I've written as a short description of the project. I would like to hear your feedback if you're willing to share. Does it make sense? Do you think you understand the work or the goals of the project? Do you feel that you have a basic understanding of the theories I'm working with?

SUMMARY STATEMENT OF THE WORK
Drawing inspiration from the seminal work of cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker, my book, "In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering" (2024), aims to challenge the dominant cultural narratives that deny the reality of death and the ways in which this denial contributes to the oppression and eradication of marginalized cultures, specifically the Tabeguache-Ute of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. By embracing Becker's insights into terror management theory and the role of death anxiety in shaping human behavior, this project seeks to provoke reflection and dialogue about the urgent need to come to terms with our mortality and its implications for our relationships with one another and the planet.

Our Struggle To Be Unique

Ernest Becker said, when talking about being unique, “it expresses the heart of the creature: the desire to stand out, to be the one in creation. When you combine natural narcissism with the basic need for self-esteem, you create a creature who has to feel himself an object of primary value: first in the universe, representing in himself all of life.” Simply put, we want attention and adoration. We will go to great lengths to get it, and sometimes it manifests as narcissism. It's everywhere in society, especially with social media. It’s given us a clear example of this behavior (and need). Posting an endless stream of "selfies" and showing the "ideal lifestyle"—travel, wealth, high-end material goods, famous friends, popularity, etc.

I know that most people never think about their struggle for self-esteem (to find meaning and significance); not consciously anyway. It’s a daily battle for most human beings. This drives most human behavior after the basic needs are met, and most people don’t even know it.

If you look at Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, you’ll find what human beings spend their time doing every day. The basic requirements include physiological and safety needs. We need to breathe, eat, sleep, have shelter, safety, etc. These show the first survival drives, which include reproduction. Becker would call these "animal needs." Like all other animals, we are not exempt when it comes to the basic survival and reproduction drives. This is, in fact, what collides with our knowledge of death and creates the anxiety that we repress through self-esteem and culture.

“It is quite true that man lives by bread alone — when there is no bread. But what happens to man’s desires when there is plenty of bread and when his belly is chronically filled? At once other (and “higher”) needs emerge and these, rather than physiological hungers, dominate the organism. And when these in turn are satisfied, again new (and still “higher”) needs emerge and so on. This is what we mean by saying that the basic human needs are organized into a hierarchy of relative prepotency.”

— (Maslow, 1943, p. 375)

As you climb up the Maslow ladder, you see where this changes. I like Maslow’s theory. And for the most part, I agree with it. Where I would differ is how these are separated. Love and belonging, self-esteem, and self-actualization can all be put into one category: self-esteem. We can never really attain self-actualization. This is a goal set in this theory to strive toward (the carrot on the stick). Self-actualization gives you a way to look for and get a steady supply of self-esteem. Becker calls this "culture" or "cultural worldview."

Culture provides a way we can bolster and maintain our self-esteem, and self-esteem keeps our existential terror (death anxiety) at bay. Self-esteem buffers anxiety. “Psychological equanimity also requires that individuals perceive themselves as persons of value in a world of meaning. This is accomplished through social roles with associated standards. Self-esteem is the sense of personal significance that results from meeting or exceeding such standards.” (The Ernest Becker Foundation)

“I was no longer needing to be special, because I was no longer so caught in my puny separateness that had to keep proving I was something. I was part of the universe, like a tree is, or like grass is, or like water is. Like storms, like roses. I was just part of it all.”

— Ram Dass, Changing Lenses

From here, we can understand the need for self-esteem. We have to have it; if we don’t, psychological pathologies, namely depression, will emerge. The question becomes one of balance. How do we balance our need for self-esteem and yet keep narcissism at bay? Bolstering self-esteem and narcissism are sometimes very difficult to tell apart.

Once we have self-esteem (meaning and significance), we can operate day-to-day with what most would call "normalcy." Our self-esteem comes from our culture, which is a shared reality that tells us what to believe and how to act to boost our self-esteem. When this cultural worldview is threatened or questioned, we get angry and go to great lengths to defend it. And the deeper we believe or cling to our worldview, the more extreme our response to a threat will be. Herein lies the problem. This is the crux of my project.

“Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important...they do not mean to do harm...they are absorbed in their endless struggle to think well of themselves.”

— T. S. Eliot

Why Photographic Prints (and Books) Are Important

“We have in fact only two certainties in this world - that we are not everything and that we will die.”

— Georges Bataille

You hear advice for digital photographers to “print their images.” It’s good advice. Storage cards and drives crash all the time. I suspect very few actually follow that advice. However, this essay is not about that type of printing, and the ideas that I’m going to address live in a completely different space. This is about the photographic fine art print as an object of value: something tangible and handmade. As well as the importance of books and the meaning of value,

In this essay, I want to address the idea of value as it relates to prints and books in the photographic fine art world. What is value, and how do you define it?

Have you ever thought about the importance of the photographic print? What I mean is that when we talk about photography today, it’s usually about posting digital snaps on social media. I read a scary statistic the other day about “Generation Z” (Zoomer students): very few have ever been to an art gallery (to see work in person), even fewer own any photography books, or books in general, and almost none of them have ever been in a photographic darkroom. Their photographic and art world lives online in zeros and ones. That really shocked me. The last few wet collodion demonstrations I did (pre-COVID) at the local university, I felt that something was “off.” I couldn’t put my finger on it; it just felt like the students were distant and not really interested in my presentation. I’d been doing these for years and never had a response, or lack thereof, like this before. It made me start to wonder about the changing perception of art, literature, and education in general. I taught higher education for a few years; in fact, the initial reason for getting an M.F.A. was to continue to teach in higher education. I had a change of heart when I finished graduate school. I feel that I can contribute more to the world doing what I’m doing now. I’m very grateful that I didn’t continue teaching. I think I would have been disappointed and discouraged by it.

WORK, SKILL, & MATERIALS

The Value of Work
When we talk about value, we have to address some key elements that separate the different approaches to making art using photography. One of the big ones for me is work. The 19th-century French novelist George Sand said, "Work is not man's punishment. It is his reward, his strength, and his pleasure." I agree. I define work as a system of mostly failing and continuing to pursue your goal until you’ve achieved it—be willing to not only accept failure but embrace it. I work the hardest on the ideas behind my work. The other component of my photography is the work in the darkroom and printing. I can spend an hour developing and processing one negative. And I can spend an entire day trying to make a print from the negative that I like. While today’s technology allows a person to fire off thousands of images onto a digital card, my work is in the single digits (maybe three on a good day). I have to physically work for those, and some days are complete failures. Whatever the reason(s), nothing works.

The Value of Skill
This is a topic that can be controversial in the sense of how you determine or define skill. For me, skill includes all of the technical knowledge of any given process plus the wisdom of how to apply the process to achieve a certain aesthetic—not an easy thing to do. Knowledge, gained through the study of new information, consists of a rich storage of information. Wisdom, on the other hand, has to do more with insight, understanding, and accepting the fundamental “nature” of things. Let me back up a little and say that the wisdom of applying an aesthetic to an image comes from the knowledge of what you’re trying to say with the image. In other words, there needs to be a story or narrative in place in order to even do this. Without this, you can’t really do anything.

The Value of Material
One of the most important ideas to me is materials. One of the many reasons I enjoy working with historic processes is the variety of materials available for use in any given process. Everything from the papers to the silver can be used as a metaphor in the work. I used to talk about the glass used in collodion when making photographs of synagogues destroyed in Germany on Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass). Or the cyanide I use to remove the unexposed silver from the plate; the same substance was used in Europe's gas chambers during WWII. With my current project, I’m using a variety of materials that address, directly or indirectly, the thesis of the work. The tangible quality of the materials lies beyond the metaphors. It's an experience to hold a handmade photograph physically in your hands. I believe we've lost touch with the material (physical) aspect of photography. That has changed the medium a lot in my mind. This is where books can be vital. In this digital age, we rely on internet connections, computers (phones), and power to be able to see or read anything. If any one of those isn’t available, the work is no longer available to you. With a book, you only need light.

Photogenic Drawing of Rocky Mountain Barley.

THE HANDMADE PRINT
In the context of a handmade print, value can be defined in several ways, including:

1. Unique craftsmanship: One of the primary sources of value in a handmade print is the uniqueness and individuality of each print produced. Handmade processes often involve a high level of skill, attention to detail, and creativity, which can result in prints that are distinct from one another-each one an original. Viewers may place a premium on handmade items because of their uniqueness and the sense of artistry and personality that they convey.

2. High-quality materials: Handmade processes often involve the use of high-quality materials that are carefully selected and sourced. This can add to the value of the final product, as the materials used may be of a higher quality than those used in mass-produced items.

3. Personal connection: Handmade processes often involve a personal connection between the creator and the product. The maker may have a strong emotional connection to the item they are creating, and this can be conveyed to the viewer in the finished print. Viewers may value this personal connection and feel more attached to handmade items than they would to mass-produced items.

Overall, the value of something made by hand can come from a number of things, such as its uniqueness, quality, and personal connection.

Plate #121 - In the Shadow of Sun Mountain

Morning walks with Jeanne get me to reflect on topics I've been reading about and researching concerning my project. I always come across things that make me think or motivate me. The cool mountain air and the beauty of the changing seasons are lovely; it’s a great environment to meditate on what I’m trying to do. If there’s something that really hits me hard, when I get home, I’ll head to the darkroom and begin the process of making a photograph. Today was one of those days.

It works well on some days and not so well on others. Regardless, I enjoy the entire creative process. It's challenging trying to make visuals that support the concepts or ideas I have in my head and heart. Symbolism is my staple for this work. Yes, the content is "real" and represents what it is, but my desire is to take it to a deeper conceptual level. We’re symbolic in so many ways, and we create lives that symbolize something they’re not. I’m fascinated and intrigued by these kinds of ideas.

I love the painterly quality and color of the cyanotype (below). I’m going to explore some other organic compounds to tone these prints. I used tannic acid and gallic acid on this one. A lot of people don’t like how the tannic acid stains the paper. I like it. It adds a sense of age to the print. It feels like something else—and it kind of transcends photography.

Plate #121-Whole plate toned cyanotype from a wet collodion negative.

Homo aestheticus: where art comes from and why.
All human societies throughout history have given a special place to the arts. Even nomadic peoples who own scarcely any material possessions embellish what they do own, decorate their bodies, and celebrate special occasions with music, song, and dance. A fundamentally human appetite or need is being expressed—and met—by artistic activity. As Ellen Dissanayake argues in this stimulating and intellectually far-ranging book, only by discovering the natural origins of this human need of art will we truly know what art is, what it means, and what its future might be. Describing visual display, poetic language, song and dance, music, and dramatic performance as ways by which humans have universally, necessarily, and immemorially shaped and enhanced the things they care about, Dissanayake shows that aesthetic perception is not something that we learn or acquire for its own sake but is inherent in the reconciliation of culture and nature that has marked our evolution as humans. What "artists" do is an intensification and exaggeration of what "ordinary people" do, naturally and with enjoyment—as is evident in premodern societies, where artmaking is universally practiced. Dissanayake insists that aesthetic experience cannot be properly understood apart from the psychobiology of sense, feeling, and cognition--the ways we spontaneously and commonly think and behave. If homo aestheticus seems unrecognizable in today's modern and postmodern societies, it is so because "art" has been falsely set apart from life, while the reductive imperatives of an acquisitive and efficiency-oriented culture require us to ignore or devalue the aesthetic part of our nature. Dissanayake's original and provocative approach will stimulate new thinking in the current controversies regarding multicultural curricula and the role of art in education. Her ideas also have relevance to contemporary art and social theory and will be of interest to all who care strongly about the arts and their place in human, and humane, life.
Source: Publisher
Dissanayake, E. (1992). Homo aestheticus: where art comes from and why. New York: Free Press.

The Studio Q Show LIVE! From the Rocky Mountains!

Greetings!

I hope everyone is doing well. I haven't had much time over the last couple of weeks. We've been crazy busy moving and getting ourselves set up to start our home build in the mountains.

I wanted to reach out and touch base with you and do a LIVE show today from our place in the mountains here - the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, U.S.A. Not much to show yet, we’re just starting, but we can talk wet plate collodion and "ask and answer" technical questions.

Join me if you can - tomorrow, Saturday, June 27, at 1000 hrs MST. It will stream LIVE on my YouTube channel as well.

We address attending a workshop and getting tutorials/online services.
(Administrated by Jean Jacobson)

Quinn’s Live Stream from Stream Yard: https://streamyard.com/4sffpya3a8

Quinn’s YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KoFXbRk1u4g

Wet Plate Collodion Negatives - October 2011

Robert shows off his beautiful Albumen print - printing out in the contact printer!It always feels like good things end too soon. The Wet Plate Collodion Negative Making workshop was one of those good things ending too soon.

 I had a great group of people in my studio for the last three days. Doug Winter, Kathryn Mayo Winter, Robert Krawiec, Kyleigh Morgan (assisting) and Jeanne; they truly impressed me with their ability, passion and excitement. If you wanted to be surrounded by motivated and encouraging people, this group would rank high for those attributes. A big “thank you” to everyone! Jeanne kept us fed and made sure things ran smoothly - thank you!!!

Negative making is a fussy, unpredictable endeavor. It takes awhile to feel comfortable with it and “get the rhythm down.” However, once you do, it’s very rewarding.

The group I had here was incredible. Not only did they get it going, they got the mojo going fast! Almost every plate and every print was a success. And they were even doing some beautiful, creative portraiture work. It was very enjoyable for me to assist and watch the magic happen. There were tears and Goosebumps from this beautiful process. I don’t understand why more people aren’t working in this process!

We started on Saturday with introductions and conversation about art, life and the Wet Plate Collodion world. Saturday afternoon I demonstrated how to make a negative, redevelop it and then made a Salt and Albumen print from it. I showed them how to make Negative Collodion and Negative Developer and we talked, at length about chemistry. At the end of the day, they prepared glass (Half Plates) for Sunday.

Sunday was a great day. They all made Negatives, portraits of Kyleigh. I could see they were going to have some really beautiful prints.

And yesterday, Monday, we made Salt paper and Albumen paper and printed like crazy! Really impressive stuff! Remember, these guys had never made a Wet Plate Collodion Negative before or printed one on Salt or Albumen. How could you not be impressed? I hope to see them all again real soon!

Lef to right, Quinn, Jeanne, Kyleigh, Robert, Kathryn, and Doug.Some of the Salt and Albumen prints made from thier negatives! Impressive work!!

One of Kathryn's prints - toned Salt print - unwaxed. 

 One of Doug's prints. Toned Salt print - I apologize for the digital replication - the prints are really gorgeous in your hand!

One of Robert's prints - toned Albumen - Half Plate.

One of Kathryn's prints "printing out".

Doug dries one of his Wet Plate Collodion Negatives down while Kathryn takes a photo with her iPhone.