There is a very important reason for delaying film development. Taking a picture is somewhat easy; choosing a single good one out of a hundred is not. Self editing is one of the most difficult aspects of photography. Subjectivity is the bane of that difficulty. Separating strong compositions from the weaker ones is a substantially harder task than making the image in the first place. The more time that passes between taking a photo and comparing it against others increases one’s objectivity. When editing my work, it is my hope and aim that I do not recall having ever taken the particular photograph that I’m appraising.

For this reason, I like to develop in batches of at least thirty rolls at a time. For me, the best time to develop film is when there will be the fewest possible interruptions. Being snowed in is my favorite such time. The process begins with the procurement of all the necessary ingredients, including a sufficient amount of distilled water.

Developing film is quite a tedious chore to put it nicely. Not only is it labor and time intensive, it is very exacting work with absolutely no room for error. The water temperature needs to be just right, the chemicals need to be precisely proportioned to the millimeter, and the agitation regiment must conform to the water temperature fastidiously. Just one little mistake or oversight will ruin the film, irreparably. Once the process begins, it cannot be stopped or paused. Each second of the procedure is carefully accounted for. Once the developing bath hits the film, there is no turning back. You get one shot to get it right, or you loose the image; possibly the image of a lifetime.

After about an hour and a half of painstaking manipulation, when the reels of film have completed their final wash, and the images come into the light for the first time, the feeling is both excitement and dread. Inside Schrodinger’s developing tank, exists either the crystallization of an artistic vision or shards of metaphoric crystal in the form of botched film. I hold my breath each time the first soapy reel comes out of the tank. Indeed, the chore is so tedious and tense, that I reserve the thrill of this unusual pleasure for as infrequently as possible.