7 days in limbo [Billie Eilish]

DAY III.5: i can't believe you've done this

Once I had closed the door I started to lay out the equipment and set up the enlarger.
Billie moved out of my way as I measured and diluted three different solutions before pouring them in separate trays. I placed the first piece of film carefully in the negative carrier before putting it into the enlarger.
The process of making prints was one of the reasons I enjoyed analogue photography so much.

I turned on two safety lamps and faced Billie. "Are you ready?"

"Uh," she watched me place a dark blanket over the window, "for what exactly?"

"The fun part," I whispered, killing the main light.

The room was flooded with contrast: jet and crimson.

I felt myself smile as my eyes adjusted to the sudden colour change. I had no words to describe it but being in a darkroom always made me feel a weird mixture of emotions.

"This feels familiar." A smile had bloomed on Billie's face as well. "I have light like that in my bedroom."

"You do? Why red?"

"I'm not sure. It makes me feel good somehow. It can be both calming and stimulating."

"You're right. It kinda makes you feel like you're in a strip club and your mother's womb at the same time."

"That's a... weirdly accurate description. It's perfect for either feeling like a bad bitch or having an existential crisis."

"Is that what happens when you write?" My tone was joking but actually I was being serious.

Billie leaned against the wall. "Pretty much. You know how we already talked about how I write from different perspectives? It can help to get into the right head space, I guess."

"Because it feels less like reality?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know. If I start thinking about it I can't do it anymore. Also it makes my room just feel safe. It makes me feel like I'm in a cocoon or some shit. Does that make sense?"

I nodded. "For me the darkroom always makes me feel detached, like the world doesn't exist."

Billie tore her eyes from the red lights to look back at me. "Maybe it doesn't."

"Maybe it doesn't," I agreed.

The printing process began. A piece of paper had to be positioned on the easel so the image was projecting onto the paper. I started the timer to control the exposure time.
Then I worked quickly, plunging the paper into the tray with developer solution.

"Now watch."

The image slowly appeared on the paper.

When a minute had passed I used tongs to slide the photograph into the stop bath for ten seconds before putting it in the fixing solution for another 30 seconds. I washed off the print in clean water and held it up for Billie to see.

After the first print I began to fully concentrate on my work to repeat the process with the other negatives.

I was usually listening to music while doing this so I had never realized how loud everything was. The nocking of the tongs against plastic, the gargling of the solutions when I tilted the trays from side to side. Even the quiet rustling of paper was sharp in the heavy silence.
The bathroom was small. Each time I moved past where Billie leant against the wall we almost touched.

Just when I hung up the last print I looked at her momentarily to catch her eyes darting from my lips back to my eyes.
I released my bottom lip from where it was caught between my teeth from concentrating.