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Darkroom Sink

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024 07 February 2004

I wandered lonely as an archaeologist.
A darkroom sink, not long for this world.

A thermoplastic relic of the late chemical age.
Dissolving, diluting, washing words.
Disappearing down the sink of history.

Formerly an essential part of a photographer's darkroom practice, and a pedigree stretching back to the lead lined sinks of the early photographers, who willingly worked in dark rooms with gun cotton and ether.

liverpool 2004

 

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