My Journey Toward Simplicity – The Path Forward

Letting Go Was Never the End—It Was the Beginning

For most of my life, I’ve pursued photography with intensity, devotion, and deep respect for the analog processes that shaped the medium. I mastered some of the most complex workflows ever invented — from handmade calotype paper negatives and wet plate collodion, to nearly every 19th-century print process: salt prints, albumen, platinum/palladium, kallitypes, cyanotypes, and more.

I built darkrooms from scratch, refined the chemistry, and printed with techniques so rare that few even attempt them today. For decades, I was fully immersed in the soul of analog photography — for the love of the craft, the history, and the quiet magic of the slow image.

But like all things, I began to change.

I found myself craving simplicity, clarity, and freedom. Not because I stopped loving the processes, but because maintaining an entire analog ecosystem — chemistry, gear, darkroom logistics — became more of a burden than a joy. The complexity of the tools began to outweigh the creative energy they once gave me.

The truth is, I had been carrying a massive legacy of gear, responsibility, and physical space — over 1,000 square feet of darkroom infrastructure just to keep all the processes alive. What once felt sacred began to feel unsustainable.

So, I made a decision.

Not to walk away from my history, but to restructure how I live it.

A Dual Path Forward: Service and Legacy

What emerged from this decision is a clear, two-path focus:

1. Helping Photographers With Practical, Modern Analog Methods

I’ve embraced a hybrid analog-digital workflow that uses the tools I genuinely enjoy — 35mm film, medium format, high-quality scanning, and inkjet printing. I work with cameras like the Nikon F and medium format systems to help photographers fall in love with analog again—without the overwhelm.

Through videos, articles, and my Darkroom Diary Premium Membership, I now serve photographers looking for a manageable, expressive analog experience using today’s tools. That includes scanning film, making beautiful inkjet prints, and creating with intention rather than stress. My experience in the analog realm and darkroom for over 40 years brings valuable insight to hybrid photographers today.

2. Returning to Calotypes as My Legacy Work

What I once thought I had to give up — the handmade calotype — turns out to be the very heart of my personal artistic legacy.

I’ve come to see that I don’t need a giant darkroom or a perfectly orchestrated lab to make calotypes. I can make them in a small space at home. And I don’t need to print every one as a salt print to validate the process. In face, I am getting ready to start a new non-destructive bathroom to tiny darkroom conversion building project and I will share the journey with you as I do it. The goal is to optimize a tiny space for my reduced darkroom needs while not tearing up the bathroom. I have some unique ideas on how to approach this that may even inspire you if you want to use a spare bathroom as your darkroom, too.

The calotype paper negative itself — full of character, history, and emotion — is the artwork.

I’ve decided to embrace a hybrid calotype workflow: scanning the calotype negatives, preserving their delicate tonal range, and presenting them digitally or in book form. These images will become the foundation of a fine art book I’m beginning to write — a reflection on time, beauty, and impermanence, told through the lens of the calotype.

It’s not a compromise. It’s clarity and I don’t need to create historic prints from my calotypes as I once thought I did.

Redefining the Darkroom

I’m in the process of simplifying and downsizing. My Chamonix 8×10 camera remains at the center of my work, along with a select few 19th-century soft focus lenses. My darkroom building is no longer a full-time lab — instead, it’s becoming a creative sanctuary: a mini-gallery, a space to mount, frame, and prepare handmade books and prints. I am not sure if I will keep the building long term or not, but in the meantime, I will enjoy it in its new form.

Even though the chemicals and trays are fewer, the depth of what remains is greater.

I now create to express, not to maintain. To move people, not to impress them.

A Calotype in the Digital World?

Yes. I’m not afraid to scan my calotypes. In fact, I see them as living artifacts — made by hand, guided by light, then digitized to preserve and share. The emotion is still there. The fingerprint of the process is still there. What changes is only the delivery.

And by removing the pressure to maintain an enormous darkroom system, I now have room to create slowly and intentionally — and eventually offer these images to collectors and readers in ways that are meaningful, accessible, and archival.

What’s Next

Moving forward, I will continue helping photographers master analog techniques that fit their lives — whether that’s shooting film, scanning negatives, or printing with inkjets. At the same time, I’ll quietly return to my calotype roots, creating one handmade image at a time in my minimalist home lab once I have the new space configured.

Both paths serve a purpose. One serves others. The other preserves what I alone can offer.

If you’re on a similar journey — searching for a way to honor your love of analog without being consumed by it — I hope this gives you encouragement.

There’s more than one way to carry a tradition forward. You don’t have to abandon what you love. You just have to reshape it so it can live alongside you.

Join the Journey

If you’d like to follow this more closely, I invite you to join me inside the Darkroom Diary Premium Membership. You’ll find field notes, editing sessions, gear guidance, and the deeper creative stories behind the images — both from the modern analog world and from my continuing calotype work.

This is my new chapter: lighter, focused, and more meaningful than ever.

Here’s to making room for what matters most.

— Tim