In the following lines, I will not mystify analog photography through poetic means—quite the opposite. I will attempt to demystify it, which, I suppose, is part of my own romantic perception of it. If you were expecting instructions on how much St. John’s Wort to scatter around yourself on Midsummer’s Day while developing Lomo Lady Gray 400 in the waters of the Vladaya River, I must disappoint you. Lady Gray behaves very similarly to Fomapan 400, and I dare say it is, in fact, a rebranded product with the same emulsion. As for St. John’s Wort—I would categorize it under the ‘phenomenology of the photographic experience,’ which is not exactly the topic of this discussion. Speaking of discussion—many of the claims here can be debated, and I’d be glad to hear your thoughts in the comments bellow this article.

While working with the salt print process, I encountered unexpected darkening in the lightest areas of my images—commonly referred to as fogging or staining. In simple terms, I couldn’t achieve a pure white base within the print. Some printers and artists might simply accept this as “part of the aesthetic of the process.” I, however, wasn’t satisfied with that explanation—even though I do appreciate the effect in and of itself. Those familiar with my work know about my personal preference for darker prints, but reducing the potential of a process to just one aesthetic trait does it a disservice. My association with salt printing is one of delicate tonal transitions and a slow, deliberate workflow, not compromised contrast. So, I hypothesized that the darkening wasn’t inherent to the process itself but was caused by a specific factor—something in my own workflow. To test this, I set out to identify all possible contributing factors (or, in scientific terms, variables) that might be contaminating the whites in my prints. The plan: repeat the process exactly while changing only one variable at a time and comparing the results. There are logical methods to analyze multiple variables at once—something akin to a game of “Mastermind” (or, if you prefer, “Bulls and Cows”)—but I opted for the slower, more controlled approach. After all, salt printing is already a complex enough technique; rushing would only invite more uncertainty. After several days of trial, error, and analysis, I reached an experimental conclusion: the culprit was tap water. The city’s aging plumbing system, rusting pipes, and who-knows-what other organic and inorganic surprises floating within the supply were introducing impurities that reacted with the silver salts in the emulsion. (Not to be confused with pH levels, by the way.) I confirmed this by switching entirely to distilled water—at which point the fogging vanished. The final step? Installing a water filtration system in the studio, which, as it turns out, benefited far more than just my salt prints.

An interesting example here is the issue of authenticity when digitizing (scanning) negatives for the purpose of sharing analog images – a popular and well-known practice among us all. But is there a standard for scanning? Do we realize the variables (many of which are uncontrollable) that define the visual characteristics of the resulting digital image? Do we use the scanner’s automatic settings, which at its own discretion (i.e., based on a preset algorithm) determine the contrast and gamma of the material, or do we disable all such settings and scan the negative essentially as a positive, which we then “invert” manually? Do we allow ourselves to adjust the contrast sliders slightly during the scanning process? And, in fact, how can we be sure that the scanner accurately (i.e., linearly) renders every half-tone in the range from pure black to pure white? To top it all off, when we add the fact that the devices on which we view the images have different color rendering and calibration, we could simply forget about digitizing analog images and just rest easy. Of course, this is a joke (half-joking, to be fair), and my intention here is not to discourage anyone or prevent the sharing of information and photographs, but rather to encourage us to share our experiences with a clear understanding of what we’re actually saying when we post a photo and claim that a particular film has ‘super dynamic range.’ It’s entirely possible that it does, but ‘show me the negative,’ would say Nikola Dulygarov here, and we seem to have to agree and give him that right, so – show him the negative!

How to Approach Scientifically

• Define the variables – what exactly are you studying?
  Even in conventional analog photography, there are numerous factors that define the character of the image starting at the negative stage – the type of film, the exposure used, the choice of developer and its concentration, the temperature and agitation during development. Clearly defining and distinguishing these variables both quantitatively and qualitatively allows us to investigate how each one, in isolation, can affect the aesthetics of the frame. If the variables are not clearly defined and distinguished from each other, the results lose their objectivity and cannot be reproduced or used for comparative analysis. Conduct an experiment – choose a film and shoot exclusively with it for a while in various situations. Discover its possibilities and limits, under what conditions it serves your artistic goals, and when it restricts you.
• Document everything, consistently and systematically
  Regardless of whether you record or photograph your process, the scientific approach requires thorough documentation. By sticking to a consistent methodology, you increase the likelihood of reproducibility of results and prevent drawing wrong conclusions due to inconsistency. The feeling when I discover that I’ve shot on black-and-white film instead of color is priceless. It can only be compared to the moments when there is no film at all. And although the chances of such mistakes are significantly smaller with 35mm cameras, a piece of masking tape on the back of the camera with film information never hurts. In the excitement of the work process, it’s easy to overlook something important that may turn out to be a key variable or even the solution to the mystery that’s been on your mind. That’s why make sure to note down your impressions, thoughts, and ideas.

On Analog Photography Literature and Other Demons

I’ve already pointed out the risks of the virtual social media as a source of information. However, even today, high-quality content can still be found on platforms like unblinkingeye.com, alternativephotography.com, personal blogs, and forums like photrio.com and photo.net. Forums, as gathering places for countless people and opinions, combined with the lack of an editorial team, present some risks regarding quality. But let’s not forget that, at one time, these were the only way (especially for someone living in a small provincial town like me) to access useful information and connect with the wider world.

Of course, in Bulgaria—well, mostly in Sofia—there are educational institutions offering academic courses in analog photography. These institutions have the infrastructure, resources, techniques, and so on, and they should be taking responsibility in this area. It is also expected that they provide solid knowledge (and not just tell stories from their youth) in a quality manner. A good example is the Academy of Music, Dance, and Fine Arts “Prof. Asen Diamandiev” in Plovdiv, where there seems to be a clearly defined curriculum for teaching analog photography. However, in my personal opinion, the real effectiveness of these institutions in relation to their students largely depends on the erudition and personal initiative of individual teachers. Increasingly, alternative forms of education, such as specialized practical courses and workshops, are emerging. I’ve attended some of these, primarily as a teacher, which means I’ll skip commenting on my own impressions here.

However, I would like to focus a bit more on literature related to analog photography, as it should be a somewhat more accessible source. I was particularly impressed by an article I came across while browsing Photobulletin magazine. The article, titled “Rodinal in Different Concentrations,” was published in issue 2/2011. In it, the author Ivaylo Filipov plays the role of a waterfall director and expertly explores the visual changes on black-and-white 4×5’’ negatives due to different concentrations of Rodinal developer. Photobulletin was a Bulgarian photography magazine—a brief burst of high-quality content from the recent past, which unfortunately ceased publication in 2016. The publishers, under the name V.A.Z.A., presented both Bulgarian and foreign photographers, critical and historical texts, information on photographic processes, and reviews of photographic equipment.

For a text to be deemed scientific, it typically emerges from a collaborative effort, incorporating the expertise of technical consultants, editors, and peer reviewers. Such works are often published by academic or specialized presses, ensuring rigor and credibility. Regrettably, the volume of new literature addressing the use of analog photographic materials remains exceedingly scarce, and when it comes to literature in Bulgarian, this gap becomes almost insurmountable. A significant issue with older publications is that much of the information they contain has become outdated, particularly in relation to modern analog photographic materials and their processes. A pertinent example of this can be found in the treatment of fixers. Many older texts provide formulas and techniques geared towards acidic fixers. However, these are not ideal for processing contemporary photographic films (The Film Developing Cookbook, p. 105, Bill Troop), such as those with tabular grain structures (e.g., Ilford Delta, Kodak T-Max, Fujifilm Neopan). These emulsions contain silver halides of iodine (AgI), which react more sluggishly with sodium thiosulfate in acidic fixers. As a result, this mismatch can lead to incomplete fixing, which causes the negative to darken and the contrast to degrade over time.

Here is a selection of publications that I find both valuable and thought-provoking:

• Photographic Chemistry, Vladislav Kiperov, “Technika” (1978) – provides a detailed description of the basic chemical processes involved in working with analog materials.
• Photographic Recipe Handbook, Vladislav Kiperov, “Technika” (1983) – A handy reference, this one covers a collection of photographic formulas for developers, fixers, and other reagents, from both local and international sources. A must-have for anyone working in the darkroom.
• Practical Guide to Photography, T.K. Apostolov, “Fakel” Printing House (1923) – this book offers quick explanations of nearly all photographic processes from its time, and I can’t describe it better than the author himself: “brief explanations of almost every [photographic] process of the time.” It’s a charming read, one of the first Bulgarian publications on photography, and offers a fascinating snapshot of early 20th-century photographic practices, including techniques like Brom oil, Gum bichromate, Calotype, and Platinum printing. Plus, it’s written using the 1921 spelling reform, so it carries a certain historical charm.
• Practical Guide to Photography, E.A. Yofis, “Medicine and Sports” (1958), translated in Bulgarian by I. Karadzhov – a solid textbook that covers key photographic terminology, basic processes, and common mistakes. It’s still useful today for anyone getting into the nitty-gritty of working with analog materials.
• Photographing Without Mistakes, Kurt Fritche, “Technika” (1979), translated by Panayot Barnev – this is a great all-in-one guide to the entire photography process, from shooting to developing to printing. It’s arranged alphabetically, making it easy to find what you’re looking for, whether you need tips on exposure, darkroom issues, or anything else.
• The Film Developing Cookbook, Second Edition, Bill Troop, Steve Anchell, The Focal Press (2020) – this book breaks down film emulsions and processing chemicals in an easy-to-understand way. It’s one of the best resources on the subject, and the fact that it’s still being updated with new info speaks to how valuable it is.
• The Book of Alternative Photographic Processes, Third Edition, Christopher James, Cengage Learning (2017) – the most comprehensive practical guide to alternative photographic processes I have encountered.
• Controls in Black-and-White Photography, Richard J. Henry, Focal Press (1986) – Henry takes a thorough look at black-and-white lab work, from developing to printing. It’s a bit technical in places, but he does a great job of breaking down complex concepts, making it easy to understand. If you want to get into the science and precision of black-and-white photography, this book is a goldmine.

In my attempt to delineate between objective facts and those that are personal (or subjective), it is entirely possible that I have inadvertently alienated certain readers. Yet, as Poincaré provocatively asks, how do we select the facts? Our ultimate goal, it seems, should be to unveil the profound similarities and the underlying harmony concealed within what appears to be an endless variety. Does the scientific method, in its structured precision, possess the requisite qualities to contribute to this endeavor, or does it, conversely, serve only to stifle our more creative faculties? Who can claim certainty in this matter, and who has the authority to offer a definitive answer? Nonetheless, should you be perusing these words at this very moment, it is reasonable to assume that, at the very least, we are gazing towards a common horizon.