The buzzer sounded, signaling that someone wanted to come into the darkroom. I couldn’t let them or it would ruin the film. I buzzed back, the signal to wait. I pulled the film out of the camera, preparing to bathe it in developing solution. But before I could, the door opened, exposing the undeveloped film to the light. “You idiot!” I yelled. “You destroyed my film! I might have had the picture of who shot Kennedy!” “Then why did you buzz me in?” my professor asked?
When I think of a darkroom I think of my first real photography experience, at Shaker Village Work Group, when I was 14 years old. Bill Knight was the staff member in charge, and, though I didn’t know anything about developing pictures, I realized quickly that I wanted to learn. That, and how to take pictures and see like a photographer, too.
we were no longer the happy couple that everyone thought we were. he forever lived in his darkroom, hovering over the photographs he took, while i sat in the kitchen flipping through magazines, looking at pictures of other people leading their lives. because that’s what they did, they led their lives.
the world is filled with darkrooms filling our every need and instinct for pain and losing the ones we hold the dearest to our souls and guide how we live our lives endlessly until our dying day. FATE.
Darkrooms are interesting places. They are used for developing photographs from film using a variety of chemical processes. The photographs developed from darkrooms are superior to those that come from commercial developers.
ooo a darkroom. i love dark rooms. they’re great for dreaming in. all you have to do is close your eyes and curl up into a ball, and nudge your way into a corner. once your eyes are closed, you could be anywhere –on a beach, in the mountains, in the arms of your lover. and then when you open your eyes, it’s still dark, and you’re still there. anything’s possible in a darkroom.
Mr. Neville had just visited the darkroom. How often does he go in and out of that place? I have tried to stay and figure out what goes on behind those doors, but after a week the answer is just as dim and the room itself.
very very scary and makes me want to stay in a room with the lights on when alone. could turn out to be very romantic if accompanied by someone else in the room. however, the word makes me think of sitting in a theatre surrounded by strangers looking at the same screen as me.
You wake up in a dark room, or perhaps you are blindfolded. It is cold, and you are sitting on the floor, what feels like concrete. There is a puddle a few inches from your hand, blood? Where are you? What has happened? You try to stand, but realize you are chained. This dark room may end up being your tomb…
I was in my darkroom 20 minutes ago. While I was setting my photos to develop, I slipped and dropped my negatives on the floor. The impact ruined the photos forever. After realizing this, I went out and found my bottle of scotch. I poured myself a stiff drink and sat down to think about what just happened.
it’s a blind corner, an entryway into god-knows what. the red light glowing from beyond seems otherworldly, and invitation to some deep hell. I take my first step, eyes unadjusted, crawling into this abyss of ink. step. pause. step. pause. eventually, shapes manifest as my eyes work overtime, and the scene unfolds before me.
darkroom sexual mistress inside of the darkroom the man fondled the other mans penis because he thought it was a banana and he began to lick it and thought it was a organic banana and then BIT into it and made the other guy SCREAM!!!!!! ewh fag gross its what I call it hahahahahahahahah oh poop yea
My life is one, big dark room…at least, that’s what the girl said.I didn’t see it. Fascinating, elegant, but dark? I loved her then, but could no longer. If she would just let a little sun in at her window, but..no, the pictures wouldn’t have developed quite so well.
I see photos hanging from oddly placed strings with the faint glow of a red light in the background. an odd air humidity feels the aire. black and white…. it feels like a scene from saw. come to think of it i have never even been in a dark room
dark dark dark dark dark dark. I hate the dark.
darkroomdarkroomdarkroomdarkroom.
dark room. dark room. dark room. dark room. dark room. dark room.
a room that is dark.
Alone in a darkroom, I develop my dark pictures. I look at my dark subjects and am filled with dark thoughts. I think of dark ideas, my voice speaks dark suggestions.
Photography. I wish i had gotten into photography. I still want to do that camp this summer but I probably won’t. Ive seen some pretty awesome photos. Even on stumbleupon. I just saw one of a turtle eating a strawberry, it was cute. And i like pictures of pets too. and of just cool things in general. When the science department gets the really cool camera i hope i can use it.
The room was pitch black. Not black in the sense of darkness and mysterious night, but rather of cold emptyness, lack of anything. It was the darkness of silence, the darkness of lost love and lost hope, of a child who dies. It lived in every corner of the room, but moreso, the people in it.
in a dark room i find you. in a darkroom you kiss my face. in a dark room, you keep me whole. in a dark room, i lie alone. in this dark room you say good night. in the dark room, i see the light.
there is a dark room. im surrounded. no boundaries. just infinity. i cant get out, but i am caught wihtin the freedom of one simple color. black. there is nothing. nothing but senses. i can touch but not see. i can hear but not see. i can feel. feel emotion. everything.
there once was a dark room and a parrot that lived inside of the dark room. He didn’t know what a cracker was, it’s shape, or it’s texture. He didn’t know what green was. Was it a color? a food? could a cracker be green? But in this dakr room, lived a parrot. And he was a happy parror, dispite the fact that he didn’t know what a carrot was
I heard the door open and shut behind me and before I was able to turn around and ask him how his day was, he had already disappeared into the closet down the hall. I tiptoed to the door and asked him through the walls of the darkroom, “Honey, is everything alright in there?”
I love the darkroom. Its better than the boardroom. But maybe not as fun as the bedroom if you know what I mean. The darkroom can be made the lightroom with a simple flip of a switch, but the greenroom would take more work to make it blue.
Why is the word darkroom again? Darkrooms are places where one develops photos. I have never been in a darkroom because I am scared of the dark. Of all the forms of art surprisingly I have never really gotten into photography or the like. Albeit, it would help my design sense… if only if only.
You told me you were sorry you’d been naughty. But I didn’t believe you.
More lies spewed from your flashing lips.
I took a step back.
You noticed my hesitation.
What you didn’t know was that while I was away, I’d perfected my method in resisting your force. Therein lies the ultimate power trip. And I know were the light switch is.
she sat in her darkroom waiting for her pictures to develop. She seemed disoriented, wondering if she was talented enough to show her professor that she can open her own gallery. It was about half past eleven.
He carefully placed the pictures in the tub, feeling the acrid chemical odor fill his nostrils. The image was warped and twisted, a harmony of dissolution. Eventually it became clearer, sharp. He sighed as he looked at the man and the woman in the photograph. Remnants of a past forever lost.
When I think of a dark room I immediately think of photography. The red lghts, the deep thought that must go on. The time to spend and invest in each picture. I want to know that thought…to understand that room those pictures those memories. I want to invest in those pictures. How incredible to see your creations come to life. To see smiles and people and the ones you love.
in a dark room there is no light. No candles, no air. You cannot breathe. It suffocates you and grasps at you like death. Its eerie and cold. warm and safe. your alone and together. your eyes are closed.
I wish I could get out of this darkroom. I was in here yesterday. I figured I would leave or well, go to sleep, then tomorrow I would have a different word to write about. Is this hell?
In the dark room, the boy sat, pondering. Was his life up to par? Would everyone approve? Where was he even going in life? None of this seemed to matter anymore as the dark red flowed through his mind, feeding off of his brain cells and spider-webbing through his thoughts. He got drowsy, and as his head hit the desk, the red became a reality. The red seeped through the paper and he fell asleep.
this is the room i was put in when i was young. when we all misbehaved and did all sorts of crazy stupid shit. that darkroom had a hole in the ground and all of us were just convinced that something horrible would appear if it sensed our fear.
The buzzer sounded, signaling that someone wanted to come into the darkroom. I couldn’t let them or it would ruin the film. I buzzed back, the signal to wait. I pulled the film out of the camera, preparing to bathe it in developing solution. But before I could, the door opened, exposing the undeveloped film to the light. “You idiot!” I yelled. “You destroyed my film! I might have had the picture of who shot Kennedy!” “Then why did you buzz me in?” my professor asked?
chemical dripping red light glowing in the background casting flapper shadows on the wall, pictures generate out of now
When I think of a darkroom I think of my first real photography experience, at Shaker Village Work Group, when I was 14 years old. Bill Knight was the staff member in charge, and, though I didn’t know anything about developing pictures, I realized quickly that I wanted to learn. That, and how to take pictures and see like a photographer, too.
we were no longer the happy couple that everyone thought we were. he forever lived in his darkroom, hovering over the photographs he took, while i sat in the kitchen flipping through magazines, looking at pictures of other people leading their lives. because that’s what they did, they led their lives.
the world is filled with darkrooms filling our every need and instinct for pain and losing the ones we hold the dearest to our souls and guide how we live our lives endlessly until our dying day. FATE.
Darkrooms are interesting places. They are used for developing photographs from film using a variety of chemical processes. The photographs developed from darkrooms are superior to those that come from commercial developers.
A room without light, but with photography and beauties unknown become revealed.
turquoise darkroom i like
ooo a darkroom. i love dark rooms. they’re great for dreaming in. all you have to do is close your eyes and curl up into a ball, and nudge your way into a corner. once your eyes are closed, you could be anywhere –on a beach, in the mountains, in the arms of your lover. and then when you open your eyes, it’s still dark, and you’re still there. anything’s possible in a darkroom.
Mr. Neville had just visited the darkroom. How often does he go in and out of that place? I have tried to stay and figure out what goes on behind those doors, but after a week the answer is just as dim and the room itself.
very very scary and makes me want to stay in a room with the lights on when alone. could turn out to be very romantic if accompanied by someone else in the room. however, the word makes me think of sitting in a theatre surrounded by strangers looking at the same screen as me.
You wake up in a dark room, or perhaps you are blindfolded. It is cold, and you are sitting on the floor, what feels like concrete. There is a puddle a few inches from your hand, blood? Where are you? What has happened? You try to stand, but realize you are chained. This dark room may end up being your tomb…
I was in my darkroom 20 minutes ago. While I was setting my photos to develop, I slipped and dropped my negatives on the floor. The impact ruined the photos forever. After realizing this, I went out and found my bottle of scotch. I poured myself a stiff drink and sat down to think about what just happened.
It was cold and red, in the room. He shivered and tugged fruitlessly at his shirtsleeves, wondering why he could hear nothing, nothing at all.
He didn’t know how alone he was, until then. But by then, it was far too late.
it’s a blind corner, an entryway into god-knows what. the red light glowing from beyond seems otherworldly, and invitation to some deep hell. I take my first step, eyes unadjusted, crawling into this abyss of ink. step. pause. step. pause. eventually, shapes manifest as my eyes work overtime, and the scene unfolds before me.
darkroom sexual mistress inside of the darkroom the man fondled the other mans penis because he thought it was a banana and he began to lick it and thought it was a organic banana and then BIT into it and made the other guy SCREAM!!!!!! ewh fag gross its what I call it hahahahahahahahah oh poop yea
My life is one, big dark room…at least, that’s what the girl said.I didn’t see it. Fascinating, elegant, but dark? I loved her then, but could no longer. If she would just let a little sun in at her window, but..no, the pictures wouldn’t have developed quite so well.
I see photos hanging from oddly placed strings with the faint glow of a red light in the background. an odd air humidity feels the aire. black and white…. it feels like a scene from saw. come to think of it i have never even been in a dark room
dark dark dark dark dark dark. I hate the dark.
darkroomdarkroomdarkroomdarkroom.
dark room. dark room. dark room. dark room. dark room. dark room.
a room that is dark.
both the words dark and room are strange.
Alone in a darkroom, I develop my dark pictures. I look at my dark subjects and am filled with dark thoughts. I think of dark ideas, my voice speaks dark suggestions.
Photography. I wish i had gotten into photography. I still want to do that camp this summer but I probably won’t. Ive seen some pretty awesome photos. Even on stumbleupon. I just saw one of a turtle eating a strawberry, it was cute. And i like pictures of pets too. and of just cool things in general. When the science department gets the really cool camera i hope i can use it.
The room was pitch black. Not black in the sense of darkness and mysterious night, but rather of cold emptyness, lack of anything. It was the darkness of silence, the darkness of lost love and lost hope, of a child who dies. It lived in every corner of the room, but moreso, the people in it.
in a dark room i find you. in a darkroom you kiss my face. in a dark room, you keep me whole. in a dark room, i lie alone. in this dark room you say good night. in the dark room, i see the light.
Photographs hung on a string, drying and developing into sharp black and white images.
there is a dark room. im surrounded. no boundaries. just infinity. i cant get out, but i am caught wihtin the freedom of one simple color. black. there is nothing. nothing but senses. i can touch but not see. i can hear but not see. i can feel. feel emotion. everything.
Something you use to process photographs. Where people made out in high school.
there once was a dark room and a parrot that lived inside of the dark room. He didn’t know what a cracker was, it’s shape, or it’s texture. He didn’t know what green was. Was it a color? a food? could a cracker be green? But in this dakr room, lived a parrot. And he was a happy parror, dispite the fact that he didn’t know what a carrot was
I heard the door open and shut behind me and before I was able to turn around and ask him how his day was, he had already disappeared into the closet down the hall. I tiptoed to the door and asked him through the walls of the darkroom, “Honey, is everything alright in there?”
I love the darkroom. Its better than the boardroom. But maybe not as fun as the bedroom if you know what I mean. The darkroom can be made the lightroom with a simple flip of a switch, but the greenroom would take more work to make it blue.
Why is the word darkroom again? Darkrooms are places where one develops photos. I have never been in a darkroom because I am scared of the dark. Of all the forms of art surprisingly I have never really gotten into photography or the like. Albeit, it would help my design sense… if only if only.
it smells.
and my hands itch from
dektol
and stale chicken noodle soup-fixer
there is someone here, but they are obscured.
the dark dark red hides their face in
infrared
ultraviolet
You told me you were sorry you’d been naughty. But I didn’t believe you.
More lies spewed from your flashing lips.
I took a step back.
You noticed my hesitation.
What you didn’t know was that while I was away, I’d perfected my method in resisting your force. Therein lies the ultimate power trip. And I know were the light switch is.
she sat in her darkroom waiting for her pictures to develop. She seemed disoriented, wondering if she was talented enough to show her professor that she can open her own gallery. It was about half past eleven.
He carefully placed the pictures in the tub, feeling the acrid chemical odor fill his nostrils. The image was warped and twisted, a harmony of dissolution. Eventually it became clearer, sharp. He sighed as he looked at the man and the woman in the photograph. Remnants of a past forever lost.
She entered the darkroom, thinking about what tis image was going to mean to her, to him.
When I think of a dark room I immediately think of photography. The red lghts, the deep thought that must go on. The time to spend and invest in each picture. I want to know that thought…to understand that room those pictures those memories. I want to invest in those pictures. How incredible to see your creations come to life. To see smiles and people and the ones you love.
in a dark room there is no light. No candles, no air. You cannot breathe. It suffocates you and grasps at you like death. Its eerie and cold. warm and safe. your alone and together. your eyes are closed.
I wish I could get out of this darkroom. I was in here yesterday. I figured I would leave or well, go to sleep, then tomorrow I would have a different word to write about. Is this hell?
In the dark room, the boy sat, pondering. Was his life up to par? Would everyone approve? Where was he even going in life? None of this seemed to matter anymore as the dark red flowed through his mind, feeding off of his brain cells and spider-webbing through his thoughts. He got drowsy, and as his head hit the desk, the red became a reality. The red seeped through the paper and he fell asleep.
this is the room i was put in when i was young. when we all misbehaved and did all sorts of crazy stupid shit. that darkroom had a hole in the ground and all of us were just convinced that something horrible would appear if it sensed our fear.