lvendrell

Throughout my whole life, I have had an insatiable fascination with vintage technology. I incessantly asked my parents question after question when I was young to better understand how life was different in the past. I became obsessed with steam engines after we took a ride on a restored locomotive in the mountains of New Mexico. My dad took me to antique farm equipment shows where we saw steam tractors, massive diesel engines, and sooty 2-cycle engines that ran rudimentary outdoor washing machines. I day dreamed of having a model steam engine just so I could watch fire transform water to steam that would then become mechanical energy. Practicality aside, this is an authentic representation of my uniquely eccentric curiosity that I want share and be a part of my life’s purpose.

This profile’s 1st draft was composed true to form, on an electric typewriter. It plugs in and has a spell checker, but that’s it; no internet distractions. (The spell checker doesn’t even know the word “internet” exists.) I’m soothed and satisfied by the purity of poetry, letters, or the pent-up emotions I can put on paper with this rickety plastic relic. It’s all a pursuit of the real, authentic, and intentional.

My childhood homes were decorated with black and white photographs that captivated me on a deep level. The blacks had a deep purity that drew me in as my eyes were simultaneously stimulated by stark bright whites, all of which coexisted among smooth platinum grays. My father took these photographs in New Mexico and the Texas Panhandle in the 1970’s and 1980’s with an 8x10 view camera, essentially a fancy wood and leather box with a lens on one end and a frost glass plate on the other framed in cherry wood and brass hardware that would accept a light sensitive plate when all the brass knobs were properly set. The detail of these negatives would rival the current digital cameras.

I found a library when I was about 10 that explained how a camera could be made without a lens—just a tiny pinhole would refract light and cast it onto film held at the opposite end of a sealed black box. My excitement persuaded my dad to help me build that type of camera and we went on to compose very pleasing photographs with it. I could go on and on with more anecdotes, but this was the original foundation of my pursuit of black and white photography that is still currently evolving. At the behest of my curiosity about my dad’s days of shooting photography and working in a darkroom, he bought a 1952 Rolleiflex on EBay that I eventually acquired. The Rolleiflex is a medium format camera that takes 120 format film (still readily available) to take square shots. A couple years ago, I added in a 35mm camera as well (Leica Standard Model E). My grandfather purchased it after his service in WWII, likely not long after it was manufactured in 1947. It spent many years of my childhood as a beautiful shelf decoration but eventually I began using it after it got tuned up by an expert technician that trained at the German factory. This was the most basic model Leica made in 1947. They had started making more advanced models but kept this version in production so more people could afford it. It’s similar to buying a flip phone instead of an iPhone in 2025. The Leica made 35mm film popular for still photography—prior to the mid 1920’s 35mm was used for motion pictures. Movies are still shot on 35mm film, so I should have plenty of film options for the foreseeable future.

Holding these old cameras as I capture what I find visually appealing where I live and travel holds me in the present moment, insulated from distraction. After all the film has been exposed, the film can be wound back into the safety of the light tight spool. Now the fun with kitchen/bathroom chemistry can begin to turn the exposed film into black and white negatives. The film must come off the spool in total darkness then be transferred to a special reel that hold the film strip to allow liquid chemicals to touch every square inch. Working in the dark starts out as sweaty anxious groping and fumbling but with practice can become graceful and meditative. I use either a black bag or I recently modified my closet with black weather stripping to make it so dark I can’t see my hand an inch away from my face. The reel with the film goes into a special tank that lets liquid in and out but keeps out light. Now, I can head to the kitchen and do everything in light. The original B&W process I’m using takes two chemicals: developer and fixer with water washing in between the two and at the end. There are plenty of commercially manufactured chemicals from various companies such as Kodak. I’ve also made developer from only drugstore and grocery store items. Coffee, washing soda, vitamin C, and salt developed one of my best photographs. I’ve also made another type of developer from crushed up Tylenol mixed with pure lye drain cleaner. The fixer is easier to just buy pre-made for photographic processing (fixers remove un-reacted light sensitive material so film can be safely exposed to light.) After the film is dry I scan the negatives (black turns to white and white to black in the final processed image) into my computer and print the ones I like with an Epson archival grade pigment inkjet printer. I frame some as gifts for friends and family. Since I started Postcrossing in October 2024, I’ve been sending cards with my photographs to people all over the world.

I’m here to push myself into transforming my pursuit of unique, creative expression from a solitary experience into a means for social connection.