The first time I walked out onto the ice with it, everyone wanted to
know what it was. Everyone was curious. It was a real 'ice breaker' so
to speak and I was instantly glad I brought it butI was shy to be the
center of curiosity especially with the bad french. I used the pile of
frozen parachutes as my tripod for the outside shoots.
The biggest challenge was light-tighting my cabin. I borrowed electrical tape
from the mechanic and I masked the light leaks around the ceiling and
cut a piece of red vinyl as a flap to put over the air vents on the cabin door.
Even in the polar night there are still light leaks in the cabin.
I didn't have a stop watch or a watch at all to keep
track of exposure times and before the logistics chief left
after helping with the rotation that brought me there, he offered to
give me his Louis Vuitton watch off his wrist.
One of those watches you see in the 10:10 watch advertisements.
The cook wouldn't let him and she found me a digital watch
lying around instead.
Light-tighting my cabin was really the very first project and
I was relieved to have this to do the first couple of days.
The pinhole camera was built for me from a young art student
I found in Brooklyn through a Craig's List ad.
He was selling all this photo paper too.
I bought a lot of outdated black and white photo paper
from him as well. It was very out of date, very old paper.
When I finally developed the paper images at the local art school in Lorient,
no matter how hard I tried to leave them patiently in the developer bath,
the images were not at all what they were suppose to be.
It's only through the notes in my log book and the date scribbled
in the dark on the back of the photo paper that I am able to take a stab
at what I was trying to photograph. The notes and the final image never seem
to line it so I try to picture what I was after in my head.