For a long time, I had my film developed at the drugstore. Once I began developing rolls in my bathroom, I was freed from the ever-skeptical photo counter interrogation (“You did what to this roll of film?!”), and was able to experiment — scratching, submerging, and shooting to my heart’s content.
Whether soaked in gin, dish soap, or worcestershire sauce, the photographs of my ongoing Destroyed Film series are unpredictable and ethereal in their destruction and coloring. With no particular attention paid to perfection, the scanned negatives are embellished with dust and fingerprints, giving an even more analogue feel to the final images, which have been featured in various exhibitions and publications.