I’m no photographer. I take pictures, mostly rather banal pictures: re-creations, re-presentations, documentations of reality. When asked, I tell people that I photograph who I am with, what I am doing, and where I am. Suitably self-centric for the pseudo-artist.

Yes, I show up, with camera. And back when there was a physical craft involved, I excelled in the production of fine archival prints, and I was called a Master Printer. Over the years I taught many courses on the craft: master printing, photographic history, and photography. I have thousands of vintage silver, silver/sepia, and silver/selenium prints that have sat in boxes for the decades since I was last in a wet darkroom, plying that craft.

I still hold onto a selection of superb enlarger lenses, though the last enlarger I had access to—in the darkroom that I built for my father—I gave to the local college back in 2002. Their once-vibrant photography program collapsed a few years later. So much for craft, gotta sell those lenses.

Not only that, I still can’t get a true horizontal horizon line! Dammit! Simple composition, strictures I never liked, were not transcended to a level where they could intentionally be disposed of entirely.

After five years of not carrying an analog 35mm camera, shooting only miniDV video from 2000 through 2006, I picked up a DSLR with a lens that gradually reduced itself over more than a decade’s use to a piece of garbage. And forget a clean CCD sensor. It’s worse than in the ‘old times’ with spurts of Dust-Off and manually spotting (or ‘re-touching’) negatives and prints with Spotone and tiny paint brushes. CCDs manifest every dust speck as large dark circles on the screen (and in print). Got a clear sky? Guaranteed to be covered in more-or-less distinct circular blobs. I finally upgraded to a true professional-grade DSLR a few years back—as usual, behind the current mirror-less technology—always several steps behind any state-of-the-art. The only time I was near that was when I was shooting with the two Nikon F2a bodies and a selection of decent lenses that my father generously handed down to me back in the late 1970s.

The successful Kickstarter campaign in 2013 to acquire a high-end large-format printer ended during Covid when—after seven years of pointless printing—one nozzle got clogged and I didn’t immediately address the issue to fix it. The printer is now a 250-pound paperweight. I could perhaps revive it, but that would require buying a full set of inks, a $2500 investment that might not pay off in the end. I only sold a handful of prints total, and gave away many more than that, by far.

At this point, my images are hardly ‘collectible’ and so the only photographic medium I am using currently is this travelog. That will not change for the duration—despite this virtual world already jam-packed with trillions of images—until the energy winds down, and all archives become cold stardust fodder.