Another Happy Place

The first time I entered our apartment I knew those white walls had a purpose. I quickly exclaimed that I would make the hallway my gallery. Seven months later, we finally mounted my black and white photos. I'm so giddy, it's like my first solo exhibit. The last time I displayed my black and white photos was during our critique for Black and White Photography Class under Ma'am de Guzman.

My first few photos and response earned her ire but the next batch of photos seemed to please her. I used my old Canon AE1 for all the photos I took. I remember the endless trips to Quiapo to buy a box of photo paper. I remember our horrified faces when our classmate took out her 50 pieces of photo paper from her bag. I bet she thought they were like any other photo paper for digital printing. I remember how we all seemed to live inside the photo lab, hunched over our tables, making contact prints, repeating procedure after procedure to create the perfect photograph. I remember the times I could smell the chemicals in my hands even after I've washed them off. Then there were the endless cursing, endless rolls of film and the endless shelling of cash.

I finally converted to using Ilford film rather than Kodak's tri-x and for my finals I asked Mang CV to reel my film for me because I was so afraid I would screw my last chance. I survived that class, grades intact but pockets ripped. Now I have my photographs and film negatives to remind me of that time. Of my first venture into film school.