In 2010, there was one working processor of Kodachrome film left in the world. After 75 years and countless photographs, the film that spawned Paul Simon’s 1973 classic tune of longing and fantasy was going the way of the passenger pigeon.
After I received a gift of 25+ rolls of 35mm Kodachrome film in early 2010, I began photographing at camera repair shops, film processors and photographic supply across the country. My images examine an industry transformed by digitalization and technological innovation recorded on an analog medium. The project ended in December of that year when Dwayne’s Photo – the last K-14 processor on earth – stopped taking anymore film in for processing.
Five years later, I’m pleased to finally share my project, titled Photofinishing, at the OSU Faculty Club through February 26th. The Faculty Club is located at 181 South Oval Drive in Columbus, Ohio.
After being stranded in the Bonneville Salt Flats all day, we cruised the strip in Wendover, Utah; the nighttime streets lined with $35 motels. On the Nevada side of the border, bright Vegas-style lights advertise penny slots, $6.55 senior discounts, and all-night buffets. A weird neon glow rises up into the desert sky. A place for Vegas dropouts, and vagrant Mormons to drown their woes, Wendover was clearly not built for high rollers. Technicolor temples of debauchery are seemingly the only things West Wendover has to offer.
After scanning the strip, we decided to get some cheap grub at a casino. Inside the Red Garter, patrons sit hypnotized by machines ringing out the merry music of paychecks being tossed aside. Countless slot machines and who-knows-what-else awaits the avid gambler inside these establishments. We ate our dinner at the Prospector Lounge, a neglected section of the casino with busted-out satin chairs and dull historical paintings commemorating the old west. The food was good enough; a simple biscuits and gravy for myself, and two eggs and toast for Steve. After reflecting on our day in salty hell, we chose to move forward and immediately made tracks for Twin Falls, Idaho. Driving up an old dusty portion of 93, I stayed wired on caffeine and chewing gum.
It was 3:00 AM before we settled into a RV park, a few miles north of our intended destination. Out in the open, surrounded by rural-suburban sprawl, our choice of campground was anything but ideal. Instead of a tree-lined grotto in the woods, the desolate concrete pad was lined with water and electrical hookups. Steve was furious about my decision to camp here as we rolled up to our pseudo campground. As we drifted to sleep in the parking lot, distant footsteps shocked my dull brain with a jolt of paranoia. Exhaustion took over and, before I could peek out of my sleeping bag, I was overtaken by troubled sleep.
Thursday morning in Jerome, Idaho, the fair grounds where we camped were milling with lazy preparatory activity for an upcoming event. Having expected to be harassed by the police, or worse, twisted local bumpkins whose motives and ethical standards would be no doubt questionable, rising to the gentle murmur of friendly fair grounds employees was a relief. The clanking of tent poles and humming of diesel engines quietly emanated from surrounding lots while we slowly and crustily rose from slumber. Despite our ratty appearance, we — wild-eyed, dusty punks passed out in their parking lot — were greeted with an offer of showers, friendly conversation and use of a hose to clean off our van.
As I hosed-off the salty mud caked onto the bottom of our vehicle, I was struck by how fortunate we’ve been. All along our journey, the kindness of people we encounter continues to surprise and amaze us. From gifts of Girl Scout cookies to perfect strangers offering a place to stay, we’ve are grateful for everyone’s generosity and willingness to help two road-worn travelers.
The Brownie was a very successful and influential line of cameras introduced by Kodak starting in 1900. It maintained great commercial success through the 50’s and 60’s and changed photography from a highly complicated craft into something you can take on a family vacation.
My friend, Stephen Takacs has built a 17x scale model of the Brownie that makes giant prints on analog photo paper. Stephen’s Brownie also functions as a darkroom, interactive installation and a sweat lodge (depending on the weather.) We will be taking this giant camera across the country this summer and working on a project we call “Brownie In Motion.” The concept behind this trip is to find and photograph craftsman whose skills might otherwise be forgotten. This documentary / performance project seeks to raise awareness about disappearing crafts to perhaps build interest in these dying trades.
By the way my name is Micah, I’ll be writing about the journey as well as co-piloting while we take the Brownie out west. I am an aspiring chef, writer, and traveler. So when Stephen came to me with this idea it took me two days to decide to quit my job and leave Philadelphia to be part of this adventure.
It has been a fine summer rustling up support for the project, fine tuning the Brownie, and planning for the journey. We will be merrily bounding forward into a relatively hazy and unpredictable few weeks with our launch date of July 17th.
We are starting with a giant camera, a truck, two dudes, and enough gear to keep us alive for a month of driving across America. This is the recipe, but otherwise we’ll be making this up as we go. Camping and pleading with those we know (and some we don’t) to keep a roof over our heads while we speed towards our destination. Our destination you ask? Well, I don’t think we have one in mind, merely a vague idea of a lot of places to see, and people to meet with our lovely traveling companion, Brownie In Motion.
So dear followers, we will keep you updated of our adventures, mishaps, and skews from everyday life on the road. In an attempt to preserve, that might otherwise be forgotten, we forge forward into uncertainty.