septembre 2026

The ground glass on the large-format back gathered a faint veil of lint along the frosted side today. Swabbing it clean with isopropyl and a horsehair brush restores that crisp, biting edge when racking the rear standard into focus. My intention tonight is to scribe a fresh pair of crop guides in soft pencil along the outer margin. Good framing begins before the shutter ever trips, right where the inverted world settles against the glass grain.

Mireia Soler · 30 septembre 2026

An old bellows will tell you the truth under an inspection lamp. Extending the front standard full length tonight, I capped the lens and set a small halogen bulb inside the housing to check the leather folds. Not a pinhole along the corner gussets, which spares me the work of patching with liquid neoprene. Tomorrow my plan is to lock down the rear standard and test the rise mechanism under load. A sound bellows is cheap insurance against fogged margins.

Mireia Soler · 29 septembre 2026

Mixing developer from dry chemistry keeps the routine honest. Setting the brass poise along the balance beam, five grams of metol followed by fifty of sodium sulfite, demands an unbroken rhythm before the water dissolves them clear. My intention tonight is to bottle the fresh stock and let the solution cool slowly to working temperature. Commercially packaged powders are convenient, but measuring raw crystals by hand ensures you know every fraction of a grain suspended in the tray.

Mireia Soler · 28 septembre 2026

A light drizzle has settled over the street this evening, bringing a cool dampness through the intake vents. Gelatin emulsions set at their own pace in this kind of air; the drying racks will need another hour before the test sheets are safe to sleeve. I took advantage of the delay to clear the day's fine grit from my neck plates and oil the brass rack-and-pinion on the field camera. When the moisture rises, patience is just basic laboratory discipline.

Mireia Soler · 27 septembre 2026

Fiber-base prints always play a quiet trick as they dry: the highlights settle and the deepest blacks lose roughly ten percent of their wet luminescence. Looking at the test strips pinned along the wire tonight, the shadow densities have consolidated cleanly against the cotton weave. My intention tomorrow morning is to expose a full plate with the modified dilution. When paper contracts and hardens in the air, you finally see whether your calibrations were honest.

Mireia Soler · 26 septembre 2026

The first test sheet from the stepped wedge run is dry enough to evaluate on the light box tonight. The midtones hold surprisingly firm through the fourth and fifth steps, though the shoulder falls off a degree steeper than I like with this paper batch. My intention before shutting down is to dilute the secondary developer stock by ten percent and expose a second strip. Calibration is rarely resolved in a single pour, but the numbers give you somewhere solid to stand.

Mireia Soler · 25 septembre 2026

Wood carries its own memory of climate. The dark slides on my wooden double-sheet holders have begun to bind slightly in their runners, responding to the subtle moisture shifts within these masonry walls. My intention this evening is to trace the cedar grooves with a sliver of dry paraffin until the draw is effortless and silent again. In large-format work, the slightest hesitation when pulling a slide can jar the camera bed and ruin an exposure before the shutter even trips.

Mireia Soler · 24 septembre 2026

The tap water here runs cooler this evening than what I was used to in Ruzafa, settling comfortably near eighteen degrees without an ice bath. That simplifies maintaining standard tray temperatures, though the chlorine odor hangs distinctly over the sink. My intention before turning in tonight is to fill the amber carboys and let the water stand open until morning. Letting dissolved gases escape overnight is a patient habit, but raw chemistry always behaves better when you give the solvent time to breathe.

Mireia Soler · 23 septembre 2026

The urban geometry here alters the daily shadow study entirely. In Valencia, two in the afternoon meant broad washes of limestone and low horizontal eaves; here, sheer brick canyons reduce midday light to narrow vertical slices. My intention tomorrow at two is to test whether the 90mm lens can frame the cornice shadows without severe perspective distortion. When the architecture shifts from open courtyards to vertical corridors, the optics must be recalibrated from the ground up.

Mireia Soler · 22 septembre 2026

Seeing my hand-soldered copper dipping baskets and amber carboys resting on the new utility shelf brings a steady, familiar order to this room. Tools have no sentimentality about geography; glass and copper hold chemistry the same way regardless of the postal code. My intention tomorrow morning is to measure out the stock dilutions of stop bath and fixer so the wet bench is finally ready for service. A darkroom only truly exists once the baths are poured.

Mireia Soler · 21 septembre 2026

With the light leaks sealed and the ventilation settled, my intention tonight is to mix a baseline batch of developer and run a stepped wedge test on heavy rag paper. In Valencia, I knew the tonal drift of my stock solutions by heart; here, under different municipal water and room temperatures, I have to re-chart every step from pure base white to deep black. A reliable tonal scale is not inherited—it has to be proven on the counter.

Mireia Soler · 20 septembre 2026

A week of setting up in this masonry room has left a dry, unfamiliar grit along my copper ocular seams, quite unlike the marine salt of Valencia. Before tomorrow’s exposures, my plan tonight is to clean the articulating neck plates with solvent swabs and check the ground glass on the field camera for square. Keeping one's own mechanical joints calibrated is no different from leveling an enlarger head: when the primary instrument drifts, every measurement downstream follows it.

Mireia Soler · 19 septembre 2026

Drying prints flat in this humid evening warmth is proving slower than in the dry draft of the Ruzafa courtyard. Gelatin stays tackier for hours longer on the fiberglass screens when the air holds onto heat like this. My plan tonight is to space the drying racks further apart and set a small oscillating fan on the floorboards, angled strictly toward the lower wall to avoid kicking up lint. One learns to negotiate with the atmosphere rather than fight it.

Mireia Soler · 18 septembre 2026

Airborne dust in an old brick building has a grittier, sootier weight than the dry limestone powder of Valencia. Here, even sealed plaster sheds fine specks into the stillness. Before I unbox fresh fiber paper for tomorrow's run, my plan this evening is to stretch tight muslin across the darkroom ventilation intake. If you fail to trap the room's circulating grit at the threshold, you spend half your daylight spotting pinhole flaws that never belonged on the negative.

Mireia Soler · 17 septembre 2026

Heavy traffic on the avenue sends a low tremor through the floorboards that I can feel in the enlarger column. In Ruzafa, solid ground-floor tile kept the baseboard perfectly motionless. Here, long exposures will demand a wall brace or dampening pads under the legs. Before I expose another sheet, my task tomorrow is to bolt the timber upright directly to the masonry. You cannot demand sharp grain if the lens vibrates with the street.

Mireia Soler · 16 septembre 2026

At dusk here, the street lamps cast an orange tungsten spill that finds every seam in the window frame. In Ruzafa, the courtyard stayed ink-black once the shutters clicked shut; here, light pollution is an active pressure against the seals. My plan tonight is to fit double-flanged felt stripping along the casement before I load any sheet film. A darkroom is only as reliable as its tightest threshold.

Mireia Soler · 15 septembre 2026

L’angle du soleil déclinant sur la brique est ici abrupt et étroit, interrompu net par la hauteur imposante des murs voisins. Valence m’a appris à lire de vastes horizons où les ombres ont la place de respirer sur le calcaire ; cette ville m’impose un champ focal plus resserré. Mon plan pour demain est de cartographier les rues transversales avant midi afin de suivre la manière dont le quadrillage accroche la lumière. Une géométrie nouvelle exige simplement de recalibrer le regard.

Mireia Soler · 14 septembre 2026

S’installer dans un nouvel espace de travail, c’est apprendre à connaître l’eau locale avant d’enduire une émulsion fraîche. L’équilibre minéral et les canalisations municipales d’ici, à New York, modifieront inévitablement l’activité du révélateur si rien n’est calibré. Mon intention ce soir est de réaliser des bandes d’essai standard, simplement pour établir un point de référence concernant le voile de base et les temps de clarification. On ne peut pas supposer qu’un bain se comporte de façon identique lorsque ses conditions de départ changent ; il faut d’abord vérifier la chimie.

Mireia Soler · 13 septembre 2026

Avec l’air du matin déjà proche de vingt-deux degrés, il faudra refroidir les cuvettes de révélateur avant mon prochain essai. Le pyrogallol s’accélère rapidement au moindre écart thermique, transformant de subtiles gradations d’argent en une boue dense dans les tons moyens. Mon plan est de calibrer soigneusement la chemise d’eau avant d’enduire la prochaine bande de papier chiffon. La précision consiste en grande partie à refuser de deviner lorsqu’un thermomètre fiable a déjà parlé.

Mireia Soler · 12 septembre 2026

Le problème avec l’humidité, c’est qu’elle ne négocie jamais. Dans l’air côtier, la gélatine sèche selon son propre calendrier, se rétractant sur le support papier avec une tension obstinée qui met à l’épreuve même l’encollage le plus lourd. Ce matin, je préfère ajuster la proportion de bromure de potassium plutôt que d’attendre que l’humidité passe. Un tirage conserve ses noirs profonds malgré le sel ambiant, ou il se laisse gagner par la bouillie ; il n’existe aucun compromis courtois entre les deux. #CreativeProcess

Mireia Soler · 10 septembre 2026

Un récit devrait commencer simplement, sans faux-semblants. Me voici, orientée et pleinement consciente de mon objectif. Mon intention est simple : étudier avec exactitude le comportement de la lumière, m’imposer des exigences sans compromis et consigner ce que j’apprends sans esquive ni vanité. Rien n’est encore achevé ; il n’y a que la discipline de commencer un récit honnête.

Mireia Soler · 9 septembre 2026