an Epson printer with the printing bay and scanner door open 📷

Fred, which is how I decided to name it (we’ll see if it sticks), is already proving to be a crucial part of my photography process I didn’t know I needed. Fortunately for me, good folks like Jack exist on Micro.blog to share their knowledge.

Jack helped me several times in the last couple of weeks. When I was stuck in my “funk” two weeks ago, he directed me toward the magnetic cables he uses. That, and getting around to organizing my photos, finally pulled me out of the mental mud I was in. The pictures below are from Maine, which you can see in the photos section on the blog:

printed photos of places in Maine, and one of a hot air balloon in New Mexico

Then I read his post about the Epson Printer, and I found the idea of printing my own photos exciting. It took me a couple of days to decide to buy it, and then Amazon teased me about the delivery for a day and a half. I was sitting on the stairs of the lobby of my building in the evening, waiting for the delivery guy to show up. I told myself I was worried because they’d just leave it in the lobby for thieves to grab (which unfortunately happens in my building more often than not), but looking back at it now, I understand there was more excitement in the printer than just that concern. Now that I see my photos on the wall, I think I get it.

The printer lets me see my photos around me as physical objects, a part of who I am and what I do. It puts my photography to a new level. It’s one thing to occasionally open Lightroom or Photoshop (or Darktable when I started out) and browse through your photos, nod with a smile, and move on. It’s something different to see them on a wall in front of you, greeting you every day. Sure, you can order prints, and I did. But sending photos to professional printing doesn’t happen as often as printing on your own: It took me two months to send three photos to print; it took me one night to print the same number at home.

Even more important is the trial and error, learning the process, and being a part of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jack feels the same way (probably to a higher degree) when he develops photos in a dark room. It’s probably an amazing feeling.