By Ruth Van Dyken

Robin Williams in Taylor’s Tea Room in Dundas, Ontario – Courtesy Taylor’s Tea Room

A quiet stroll through the “Valley Town” of Dundas will carry you into the heart of 19th century charm.  With their heavy white mouldings, arched window frames and high facades, the shop-buildings bespeak their century-old heritage.  And all throughout the valley people are alive with a small-town cheer and fellowship that has never faded.  Shopkeepers wave and usher you towards their wares, strangers greet you with a friendly smile.  The crowd of “regulars” at the coffee shop – a jovial bunch of old fogies – chuckle when you walk in.

It’s a walk back through time, back into the best of Canada’s lively past.  Surely this is how all Canadian towns looked 150 years ago.  But what’s that?  A line-up of American flags?  The distinguished town hall looks like it was pulled from upstate Maine and plunked on these streets.  Here is hometown America transplanted in Dundas, Ontario.

For all its absurdity, the scene isn’t altogether uncommon. Ironically, filmmakers are looking north of the border to recreate that revered essence of Americanism – any town, USA.  And Ontario’s towns are cashing in.

What entices American filmmakers to head north?  For many production companies, the bottom line is, well, the bottom line.  While the rising Canadian dollar has brought financial challenges, Ontarian partners are working hard to keep filmmakers hooked by offering a comprehensive package of diversity and expertise.

Jacqueline Norton, manager of Hamilton’s film and television office, described the thrill citizens get when famous actors come to town.  “Robin Williams was amazing,” Norton says of Man of the Year in Dundas, “He petted little dogs that were on the street, he bought a bicycle from the cycle shop …  People don’t forget that.”
[pullquote]“We get kind of addicted.” – Deborah Tiffin[/pullquote]

Other major titles filmed in town include The West Wing, The Incredible Hulk and Warehouse 13.  Port Perry has frequently flown the red, white and blue for movies like Welcome to Mooseport, Kill Shot and Happy Town.  Niagara Falls has had notables like Fever Pitch, Superman II and of course, the classic 1953 film Niagara starring Marilyn Monroe.

It’s a long list of names.  But with the loonie virtually at par with the greenback, many are asking whether the future of these small-town sets will be as bright as their starlit past.  It’s a tough question.  Hosting towns have experienced a lull over the past few years, but some report a comeback. Donna Zuchlinski, Ontario Film Commissioner at the Ontario Media Development Corporation (OMDC), says the dollar’s rise “hasn’t had as big an impact as we might have expected.”  She points out that Ontario’s competitive tax credits, as well as its comprehensive services work to offset this.  In fact, this “service package” is what all parties are working toward.

Realizing the economic profit film productions bring to town (Closing the Ring, for instance, commissioned the building of an entire house in Port Perry) the Scugog Township has contracted a film liaison. Deborah Tiffin has filled this full-time position since 2004, connecting the township to filmmakers.  She handles permits and other paperwork, mediating between production staff and the community and finding locations for the desired film sets.  Acting as a mediating link, Tiffin makes Scugog more film-friendly.  And she loves doing it.  “We get kind of addicted,” she jokes.

In what she calls the “small town with a big reputation,” Sarah Wood works as manager of business development for Niagara Parks Commission. “Certainly Niagara Falls has always been unique because it has an icon that you can only get in one location,” she laughs, but points out that the Falls are only a part of the Niagara film package.  A recent and exciting development has been the addition of retired power plants as sets.  With their massive proportions and cavernous tunnels, the plants are ideal for stunts in action films or as sets for laboratories, power plants or just plain gigantic warehouses.  “These are unique properties, they’re new properties and they haven’t been over-filmed,” she says.  “Especially for film crews from major television and motion pictures, the plants are a lucrative gem, the unknown that is out there that you’ve just got to get your hands on.”

Niagara’s police services are often enlisted for security and local knowledge.  Wood and her staff are there to walk producers through legalities and keep them out of trouble.  And of course, being situated between the United States and Toronto has its benefits.  These are all part of the competitive package Niagara has to offer.

A coffee shop in downtown Dundas, Ontario – photo by Ruth Van Dyken

The city periodically hosts familiarization tours that showcase these assets to producers.  “Film crews at Niagara are a perfect fit,” Wood says.  “We know how to work with film crews, we have the services to be able to serve them, but we also know how to work with major film stars.”

Back in Dundas, the town is so popular as a set that production requests are actively filtered.  Finding the ideal fit is in everybody’s best interest, says Norton.  In addition to it’s “small town anywhere” look, Dundas has beautiful views of the Niagara escarpment, extensive rural areas and historic homes.  “It’s got everything,” Norton says.  “It’s got older buildings, it’s got a small industrial area, it’s got waterfalls, it’s got so many things that add up to a really neat community.”

Norton says there is a lot of “stickhandling” necessary to minimize the interference of production on shop merchants.  She advises producers to pre-plan every step.  Locked schedules are very difficult to work with as both merchant and production needs have to be filled.  Filming during Christmas is usually out of the question, and Sunday through Wednesday are preferred above the rest of the week.

The OMDC has a film division devoted to selling the province to filmmakers.  Their services – which can come at no charge to the production company – include sourcing locations and providing connections with industry professionals and officials. Zuchlinski says the province’s great infrastructure, highly trained crews, varied locations and competitive tax credits are just some of the reasons producers choose Ontario.  The OMDC has a full-time marketing agent in Los Angeles to promote Ontario to companies there. Zuchlinski says production companies can cash in on “a tax credit of 25 per cent of their eligible spending, which includes labour, equipment rentals, studios and location fees.”  Credits like these help to explain the production trends of the past few years.

Predictably, 2008 showed annual foreign investment in Ontario’s film industry at less than half of 2007 figures.  Yet the market bounced back with a $5 million increase in 2009 and more than recovered in 2010.  OMDC statistics show the year closed at $48 million: that’s $13 million more than 2007 figures. Zuchlinski says the enhanced tax credits helped the market recover.

As the film commission eases production challenges in Ontario and connects them to competitive credits, the OMDC is yet another player working to bring American productions to Ontario.

And how do citizens view the “Americanization” of their hometowns?  For many Dundas merchants, the hassle film crews cause is generally worth the publicity they bring. Colleen House, owner of Amaretto’s Ladies Wear says even though she’s “not easily dazzled,” the filming can be fun when people like Robin Williams come to town. “He’s a warm personality, accommodating to his fans.  He allows people to get close to him.”

Norton sees the publicity as a positive factor for the “valley people”.  “When West Wing came to Hamilton, it had a real cult following.  We had phone calls from across Canada wanting to do interviews about this little town of Dundas and the filming of West Wing,” she said.  “The residential community in Dundas loves the filming.  They’re quite tickled by seeing stars walk around the street.”

[cincopa AMDAkk6u5U5Z]

By Andrea Hall

Spatially, Canada is the second-largest country in the world and boasts a variety of landscapes, backdrops and climates that make it an ideal location for almost any film.

Want to make a show about a farming community in wide-open prairies? Canada can do that. Need to film a sequence of a daring mountain rescue? No problem. Big cities, waterfalls, beaches, frozen tundra – Canada’s got it all covered.

Despite its vast area, its market is small. With fewer than 35 million people, filmmakers and television producers often find there’s just not enough support at home.

“There’s only so much content that Canadians can consume while fully supporting our industry,” says Susanne Vaas, vice-president of business affairs and recording secretary for the Canadian Media Production Association. “Canadian producers really have to look elsewhere, not only for the eyeballs but to generate the returns so they can grow their companies, and make even more productions and really get Canada on the map in terms of a good content producer.”

Courtesy Man Nan Ma

Cue international co-production treaties.

“Co-productions fit with Canada’s overall cultural model which is one of inclusiveness and establishing strong ties all over the world. I think film and television is a great way to do that,” says Paddy Bickerton, business and legal affairs at Reunion Pictures in British Columbia.

Canada has co-production treaties with 53 countries which have allowed producers to collaborate internationally on hundreds of film and television projects. Recently, however, those same producers have said Canada needs to re-examine its agreements to allow more effective and fruitful treaties to emerge.

“The industry has made repeated requests for the completion and implementation of a co-production policy,” Geneviève Myre, media relations advisor for the Department of Canadian Heritage said via email to Fine Cut.  She indicates in response the government created such a policy and ran an online consultation through February and March this year.

One of the issues brought up was the need to have more effective treaties with partners previously underutilized. Traditionally, Canada’s main co-production partners have been European, with France and the United Kingdom topping the list from 2000 to 2009.  But new agreements within the European Union, as well as the convenience of working with nearby nations, have led European partners to look more to each other than to Canada.

As a result, Canadian involvement in co-productions has declined. In 2009, the Canadian co-production industry amounted to barely half of what it had been in 2000. Vaas says one solution is to broaden its reach and attract a wider array of partners.

The benefits of co-productions are clear. “If it’s an official co-production under treaty, the content that’s created is considered domestic content in both countries so it facilitates access to the airwaves,” explains Richard Brownsey, president and CEO of British Columbia Film. He says co-productions usually have a higher budget than domestic projects. “If you can bring another partner to the table, get some access to their markets and get access to the financial incentives that exist in both countries, it makes it a more viable project. It allows you to put more money into the content and that results in better content on the screen.”

While Brownsey makes clear that the British Columbia film industry doesn’t want to forget its traditional partners or ignore potential collaborations with other English-speaking countries, he agrees that there is an increasing interest on emerging markets.  “There are very, very large markets in Asia that are developing rapidly and we need to examine those to see what that potential may be.”

This belief was reflected in the British Columbia Film submission to the government consultation process, which states that Asian-Pacific markets, specifically China and India, should be priorities for Canada in the future. Other contributors to the consultation process also point to Asian countries as potentially promising partners.
[pullquote]“I think if the treaty is simplified, there will be more incentive for producers to work with other countries. It’s quite a daunting process to put together.”
- Paddy Bickerton, Reunion Pictures[/pullquote]
Nelvana Ltd specializes in animated children’s content, and suggests Canada actively pursue treaties with Malaysia, India and China, all known for their animation industries. Currently, Canada has only a film treaty with China, and no treaty at all with Malaysia or India.

Bickerton suggests that producers tend to rely on traditional co-production partners because there is a level of comfort in navigating those treaties. “The Canada-U.K. treaty is one that is well-used and people are familiar with,” she says. Canadian producers, especially from smaller film companies, can be hesitant to try working with new partners because they don’t already have a thorough understanding of the treaty. “I think if the treaty is simplified, there will be more incentive for producers to work with other countries. It’s quite a daunting process to put together a co-production,” she explains.

Shan Tam, co-founder of Holiday Pictures, agrees that comfort plays a huge role when forging a co-production, not just in terms of understanding the treaties but also in knowing who you’re working with.

“There’s always a certain trust factor in doing co-production, it’s just like a marriage,” she says. Tam was born in Hong Kong and spent the early part of her career working in the Hong Kong film industry before moving to Vancouver and founding Holiday Pictures in 1992.

Tam says in her experience the biggest challenge is not actually the treaties but often finding financing. “Getting the co-production status is only the first step of getting the project going. Even after we do get that, it’s still a question of whether the project can get the distributors on board and get the funding agencies on board.”

As a result of these struggles, Tam has spent most of her time recently involved in the Chinese film industry rather than Canada’s. “I’ve been just doing productions in China, actually doing something, rather than here trying to figure out how they can help me,” she explains. “It’s simply because [China’s] a very active market, it’s very busy and it has a lot more opportunities.”

By Katie O’Connor

The smell of chemicals hangs heavily in the air. A single light bulb casts eerie shadows on the students’ faces as they tear open bags of fixer and developer and stir them carefully into water using wooden spoons. “I can’t wait to see how this turns out,” gushes Natalie, a twenty-something girl sporting think horn rimmed glasses, as she clutches a reel of film.

It’s a gorgeous Sunday morning in February and a small group of students have gathered in a dimly lit darkroom at the offices of the Liaison of Independent Filmmakers of Toronto, a co-op dedicated to the preservation of film. The students are preparing to hand process celluloid film they shot the day before using a Bolex.

There is a palpable excitement in the air and its this feeling that brings the group out early on a Sunday morning to learn something that has been called a dying medium, an archaic art. They haven’t seen what their footage looks like yet.  The mystery adds to the anticipation.

Digital purists make the argument that when using digital, you see the results instantly. With film, especially for those new to it, questions of exposure, focus, lighting and angle aren’t answered until the film has been processed.

The results could be brilliant or dismal.

“The moment in the darkroom when the image starts to come is magic,” said Toronto-based filmmaker Phil Hoffman. “I don’t get that in digital. That is a thrill, an epiphany that I look for in making films. That’s why I don’t use a script, and I depend on the process and image to tell me things.”

[pullquote]“The moment in the darkroom when the image starts to come is magic.”
- Phil Hoffman, filmmaker[/pullquote]

Hoffman teaches production in the film department at York University in Toronto. Students spend their first year of the program shooting strictly on film. He has watched people who grew up on a steady diet of digital discover the world of analogue.

“What hooks them into film is the thrill of seeing what was in their head, and how it turns out,” he said. “It sometimes doesn’t work out, or it can work magically. That’s the magic of film that digital does not express in the same way.”

Hoffman believes that physical processes affect mental processes, and that in using film, the subconscious of the filmmaker will somehow become connected with the footage. “Things will start to happen that you don’t expect and those things are energetically connected with the project you need to make,” he said. “There is something different about that process that actually affects the creative process, that’s why I hold onto it.”

Digital allows an endless number of takes from various angles can be shot until the scene is just right. With film, there is a certain number of feet on a reel, limits the number of shots and takes that are possible creating a sense of unpredictability.

But some filmmakers see these limitations as a good thing. Tracy German, a Toronto-based filmmaker, has made a variety of short films and documentaries over her 14-year career, many of which were shot on film. “Limitations yield intensity,” she says. Being able to shoot hours and hours of footage takes away the preciousness of film. In having a limited amount of footage and space, filmmakers are forced to think about the shots that they are taking and what they need to form a visual narrative. “It’s about the process of being willing to go into the medium and trying to understand what you have shot and the form within it,” she says.

Chemicals to develop film - Photo by Mark Zanin

German finds that with digital, there is always the need for more. “The problem with more footage is you need more hard drive space, more high tech equipment. It’s a more more more system and nothing is good enough at a certain point.”

Coral Aiken is the community outreach co-ordinator for the Liaison of Independent Filmmakers of Toronto. She teaches community workshops to kids where they use super 8 cameras to make movies. The idea is to get them used to thinking about what shots they need to take, rather than shooting everything in sight.

“If you shoot on video you can take this endless amount of footage, and when you get into the editing room it’s sort of overwhelming,” she says. “The idea of these limitations forces you to prepare a lot more and limit what you shoot.”

Shooting with film also allows filmmakers to have a physical connection with their work. With digital, the footage is shot, transferred to a hard drive, and then manipulated with buttons. Until a DVD is created, there is nothing tangible. With film, a filmmaker can physically hold their work in their hands.

They hand crank the camera to power it, use their fingers to process the images and then project the finished product, listening to the whirring of the projector as the images they so painstakingly created appear on screen.

Aiken, who is a trained dancer and choreographer, was drawn to film because of this aspect. “The physicality is really important to me,” she says. “Super 8 is on these little plastic reels, and you can just have your movie in your hand and its very tangible and physical.”

For German, there is a sense of empowerment in working with film. After graduating from film school, German spent several years in the film industry until she became pregnant with her son. As a woman and mother, she began to feel invisible to the working world. She fought this feeling by continuing to make films using a do-it-yourself approach, where she shot, edited and processed everything herself.

“Filmmaking can be a big industrial complex where you don’t have very much control over it at all. [Working with film] takes it back down to its simplest and most accessible roots. You do have absolute control over it and you can imbue the medium with your own sensibility, your own quirky aesthetic and show that back to the world.”

There is a new generation of artists turning to analogue technologies to make and show their work, to rediscover what digital is so desperately trying to replicate. “It’s all just trying to re-create film, so why not learn a little about it and see what the big deal is,” Aiken says. “If people are super interested in looking at image quality, they are going to come back to film eventually or at least experiment with it.”

For Hoffman there will never be anything like film. “It has rich tones, it looks different. It has grain so it looks like an impressionist painting,” he says. In the age of Youtube, where anyone and everyone can shoot a movie, using film allows a filmmaker to stand out among the crowd, while gaining knowledge that enhances their craft.German sums it up perfectly. “You can do things quickly with the new technology, and edit something in a day, and that can be great, but overall it takes a long time to do a good film, and it takes a lot of work. You have to fall in love with something about it to keep you going for such a long period of time. You have to fall in love with it over and over again.”

Click here to find out how to process negative black and white film in your bathroom!

By Cathleen Finlay

My brother, Charlie Finlay, has less than a week until deadline. A DVD just arrived by courier and now he’s under pressure to compose the music for the latest short film project he’s been hired to work on.

The clips are bare with only dialogue and a separate track with temporary music. It’s up to him to create the musical landscape in just six days that will make the scenes come alive.

It can seem sometimes that the people who write music for film and television are in the business of making magic. I’ve always watched my brother’s ability to take a silent clip and come up with many versions, each drawing out different nuances with fascination. But writing music for the screen is not as simple and whimsical as it may seem.

In recent years, there have been big changes in the industry. Increasingly cheaper software has meant that anyone living in their parents’ basement with a MacBook and Logic can call themselves professional musical screen composers. The ever-growing occurrence of undercutting has caused individual profits to continue to slide. Now, more than ever, composers need to nurture a diverse set of skills in a variety of areas while also committing a lot of time and energy to the complex craft of music composition for the screen.

Charlie Finlay - All photos by Cathleen Finlay

“I’m in it for the long haul,” Charlie says, despite all this. “Good musicians and composers will find a way to make a living creating music. I just love doing it.”

Music composition for the screen is a world governed by tight deadlines and low budgets, where beloved work is often left on the cutting room floor. And yet, the number of composers continues to swell. People are finding creative ways to make a living in the industry and support offered by organizations like the Screen Composers Guild of Canada (SCGC) provide composers with education and community.

But more than anything, composers continue to do it because they love it too much not to.

When Charlie composes, it isn’t as simple as dreaming up melodies according to his tastes. “Doing music for film and television is different because it’s for a specific purpose and it’s for something…that already exists,” he says. “Music is a slave to the project that you’re working on.”

Although the composer and the director work in tandem to figure out musical themes, it’s not always easy to communicate these ideas. “It’s best to work with the director and talk in emotional terms, not in musical terms,” Charlie explains. “Because if the director hasn’t gone to school for music, they may have different ideas about what musical things mean.”

Toronto film director Chris Ross agrees: “If you don’t have a common language then they’re trying to understand where I’m coming from and I’m trying to communicate as much as I can with the limited tools that I have.”

It’s up to the composer to translate the emotional core of a scene into musical notation. “I’ve always been quite amazed by how adaptable composers are,” Ross says. “You collaborate and yet they go off and do their thing. It’s almost like a separate art form on top of the film.”

Although the job sounds difficult, changes in the industry over the last several years have made it even harder. Improved software has allowed composers to work with better quality instrumentation, minimizing the need for live musicians while still producing great sounding clips. While instruments on computers are sounding more realistic, the cost of gear and software is going down.

The problem is, the less expensive the tools, the more saturated the business becomes.

“The accessibility through technology really makes it very easy for a lot of people,” SCGC President Marvin Dolgay says. “The challenge is basically that there’s tons of people doing it. How do you make a full time career out of it?”

Composers don’t just have to compete with many other people for jobs, they also have to combat undercutting. Because new composers are trying to build their reel with clips illustrating their work, some will offer their services for free. Although it seems harmless, this devalues the work of everyone else in the business.

Toronto composer and guitarist Brian Seligman says young composers new on the scene usually aren’t aware of the damage they’re doing and undercut unknowingly. “What happens is a lot of people are just making a lot of music from their computer and they feel like ‘Oh it didn’t cost me anything!’” Seligman says.

Part of the problem of undercutting is how it affects attitudes towards the payment of musicians, Seligman says. “Plumbers get paid 60 bucks an hour for their work and nobody even questions it,” he says, “but musicians get paid virtually nothing all the time and nobody questions that. For some reason it’s completely okay to ask a band to play at a venue for free but you would never ask a plumber to come fix your sink for free.”

To compound the problem of saturation and undercutting, most musicians never learned money management skills, Seligman says, which makes negotiating budgets difficult.

“You go to school for music and they said, ‘this is an arts school where the focus of your degree is to learn how to perform that art.’ So making a living off it really wasn’t their concern for us,” he says.

Music composers operate in a crowded industry where their work is often devalued and there is little tangible instruction on how to make a living in the workforce. When the hourly wage is calculated, Charlie says it often works out to be $10 per hour. “The numbers are horrifying,” Seligman says. “The number of composers who are out there who actually make a living off of what they do – it’s virtually non-existent.”
[pullquote]“Music is the most amazing
part of filmmaking…it
influences the entire thing
so deeply and intrinsically.”
- Chris Ross, director[/pullquote]

So how are composers getting by if the numbers are so horrifying? Marvin Dolgay says just like in any other career, “really good people will always do well.” He stresses that people need to put in the time and effort nurturing relationships and learning the complicated art. Composers need to “really dedicate themselves to that medium, get relationships with editors, directors, producers, et cetera, and really continue on that path dedicating yourself and doing it as a career rather than as a hobby.”

But it isn’t as simple as that. “On one hand, I know I’m saying if you want to be successful screen composing you need to dedicate yourself,” Dolgay says, “but on the other hand that’s also a bit of suicide.” He says composers have to do whatever work they can get to make it, including advertising, web-based work or production.

It’s a delicate balance between composing and developing new skills. Composers survive when they’re able to find a variety of avenues for income. “For me it was a matter of work opportunities and being more well-rounded in terms of being multi-media, technical, and creative,” Toronto composer Kevin Fallis says. “If someone wants to come to me with a project that needs music composition, sound design, and editing, I’ll be able to do all those things.”

Working from small studios with only a computer for a companion, many composers feel alone. The SCGC helps to bring musicians together through social events and educational seminars. “We have events with each other, just to become part of a community so that people aren’t in isolated studios,” Dolgay says. The events remove the isolation, but also allow musicians to network. “You become friends with these people and you pass around gigs so if somebody gets a gig and it doesn’t work for their timeline then they’ll send it your way and vice versa,” Seligman says.

Talking with other composers about industry rates is helpful for composers as well: “We don’t always talk shop, but when we do, a lot of the conversations are based on budget,” Seligman says. “How to work a budget out, how to speak with directors about budget and things to keep in mind. Because musicians, for whatever reason, have a tendency to undercut themselves as far as budget and money.”

Dolgay made it clear that the guild does not set rates, but it does educate musicians about pay expectations. “We can give composers a range…So if they’re working under that, they can make a value judgment themselves and try to promote the idea that if they’re taking a job, it’s either to create a relationship, create a credit, create a good musical experience, create a pay cheque.  If there’s two or three of those that are good, they should take the job. But the idea is that you should know what the job is.”

He also insists composers don’t need to take whatever they can get. “There’s tons of ways to negotiate,” he says. “There’s rights, territories, exclusivity. There are things, other than dollars that are negotiable.”

The community created by the guild is unique to Canada, Dolgay says. In the U.S. many screen composers are extremely competitive, often creating a less-than-friendly work environment for musicians. “We’re Canadian,” Dolgay says. “I think our guild has really, through the years, nurtured that community spirit and our concept that the rising tide raises all ships. What’s good for one guy is good for everybody. We want everyone to succeed here. If people are saying that you can get a good job done in Canada, that benefits all of us.”

As for the future of the industry, Dolgay is optimistic. He sees that other mediums have yet to figure out how they will fit into a highly advancing technological future. Television “still hasn’t sorted out the Internet so how can we?” he asks. “I think that’s the danger – that it’s all out there and there’s file sharing and it’s hard to track and stuff. That’s the bad news. The good news is that we as creators now have access directly to our consumer – be it a film, a pop tune, a cat playing piano, whatever it is. And that changes the dynamic of the opportunities.”

The music made by musicians like Seligman, Fallis, and my brother is an important part of the media that Canadians have been consuming with an appetite that has been growing all the more voracious.

“Music is the most amazing part of filmmaking,” Ross says. “I’m always so shocked by how much music changes a film, or how much influence it can have on the whole film…it influences the entire thing so deeply and intrinsically.”

Dolgay says rather than being the demise of the industry, this is a profound opportunity. “How it will be monetized is still being worked out,” he says. “The distribution network is wide open, the ability to touch our fans and our consumers is huge – tons of opportunity. We’re just trying to figure out how to make a living through that opportunity.”

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You don’t need a lot of money or the latest technology to make a good film. All you need are some chemicals, a light proof room (or one you can make light proof) and some patience.

Tools you’ll need:

3 plastic tubs at least 10 cm deep and about 40 x 30 cm to contain the chemicals, water and film during processing.

1 plastic funnel for mixing chemical (and only mixing chemicals!)

1 plastic pail for mixing chemicals

1 long plastic or wooden spoon for stirring chemicals

1 photographic safe light (optional)

3 or more plastic jugs for storing chemicals

Timer or clock

Rubber gloves

Dry line and clothespins so that you can hang your film to dry.

Chemicals you’ll need (these can be ordered online through Kodak; http://kodak.ca or through the Liaison of Independent Filmmakers of Toronto; http://lift.ca)

Developer:  D19

Fixer

Getting started:

Make sure the room you are using is light tight and well ventilated.

Put on your gloves. This is extremely important as these chemicals are volatile and can cause bad burns if they come into contact with skin.

Mix all your chemicals ahead of time so that they can cool to room temperature before you begin processing. When mixing chemicals, make sure you are using room temperature water. Set them up in your bathtub in an order that works best for you.

Ensure that you leave a bit of space between each chemical so that they don’t splash into one another.

Determine your development time using the stock information sheets for the type of film you used.

Set up your darkroom space and get a sense of where things are.

Make sure the lights are off, and take the film you will develop and pull out roughly a 30-foot strip. Put the remainder back into a light tight can.

Put the mass of film into the developer immediately. Gently work with the film in the developer – separating it and submerging it for two to three minutes, or however long the developer time is on your stock information sheet.

Lift out the film and place it in the water. Again, gently move and separate the film for one to three minutes.

After the wash, move your film directly into the fixer. The fixer clears the film and gets rid of its chemical by-products. Wash the film for about five minutes.

Once you are finished, turn the light on and separate your film and hang it to dry with the line and clothespins. As the film dries, go back and develop another 30 feet. Once it is dry, you can go and project it or reprint it. For a neat technique, try solarizing.

To solarize your film, mid-way through the development cycle flick your bathroom lights on and off several times, or use quick bursts from a flashlight. This causes a partial reversal of the tones in the negative and gives a stunning effect.

[cincopa AwFARnaCqh82]