I didn't grow up in Rochester, so my experience of Kodak isn't the same as many natives. When I think of Kodak, I don't recall the golden days of iron-clad job security, or the big bonuses and their impact on the economy. Instead, my memories of Kodak involve freedom, open experimentation and a whole lot of fun.
Kodak's impact on mass-market photography is well documented. From Brownie to Advantix, Kodak worked to make the consumer's photographic experience an effortless one. Cartridge-loading, dirt-simple cameras were the Kodak norm, and the goal was to produce snapshots without muss or fuss.
But there's another side to Kodak that isn't much talked about today: its innovative and dominant role in black-and-white photography.
Anyone who's ever stepped in a darkroom is familiar with Kodak film and chemistry. It was (and still is) the gold standard for journalists, artists and hobbyists.
My experience with Kodak started with the purchase of a cheap black-and-white darkroom kit when I was a kid. I still remember the sights and smells, and the wonder of watching my first print slowly appear in a tray of developer. It was about as close as a teenager could get to magic without dropping acid.
Not only was it magic, it was hackable magic. Kodak had an array of films, papers and developers that could be combined to create effects that were strange and wonderful. Kodak's best films would produce prints without any perceptible grain, or you could push process Tri-X to take pictures in available light barely brighter than a candle. Some photographers did crazy things like processing their film in boiling developer -- which made the emulsion run and had a funhouse mirror effect -- or exposing their film or paper to light during the development process.
Black-and-white was also accessible. Unlike color, which requires complex chemistry and fussy attention to temperature, black-and-white was relatively easy. And it was cheap: Kodak would sell you a 100-foot roll of film that could be hand-loaded into cartridges for use at a fraction of the retail price.
There's really nothing like it today. Digital is quick and easy, but there still isn't anything that can produce the range of tones and texture of a good black-and-white print, which will last well over 100 years. A cheap 35mm camera loaded with Kodak film can take usable pictures in light that just won't work for thousand-dollar digital SLRs.
Most of the memorable pictures of the 20th century were taken on Kodak black-and-white film. When I see a good black-and-white print, or get a whiff of vinegar (which smells like darkroom chemistry), I go back in my mind to happy hours spent in a magical place, a darkroom stocked with cool stuff made in Rochester.
