I was thinking about this thread last night in the darkroom, and there is something worse than my darkroom sink. It is my hot water bath for the potasium oxalate developer for Pt/Pd printing. A styrofoam six pack cooler filled with two liters of microwaved hot water and an aquarium heater mounted held in place with a scrap from some kindling wood. Real Elegant.
LMAO, William Heath Robinson eat your heart out. :P
There are 10 types of people in this world - those who understand binary and those who don't.
My entire darkroom is built of blackoput cloth stapled to the basement ceiling joists. My enlarging table is a piece of scrap countertop on two sawhorses. THe table for trays is also plywood and sawhorses, this time suspended over a toilet. My sink is a free-standing plastic sanitary tub which stands in the shower, a hose instead of the shower head...it gets worse, shall I go on?
Okay, eventually I will get the proper hose for the stainless steel printwashing tray I picked up recently for cheap, but in the meanwhile I've got a funnel precariously balanced over the inlet, leaning against the side of the bathtub, so that most of the water from the spigot goes into the funnel and into the print washer.
Since my "darkroom" doesn't have running water. I use my bathroom for washing prints. I place my home-made washer on the toilet with the overflow tubes draining into the bowl.
But that's not the answer to Sean's question.
After about Ten minutes of listening to the washwater musically tinkling into the bowl, I find it urgently necessary to run out into the back yard and press a nearby tree into service for a purpose for which it was never intended.
That's the worst 'rigged' thing
That is called grain. It is supposed to be there.
My darkroom is a small converted bedroom. It's really more like a storage room at 9x12. However, the rigged part is the aluminum foil that I used to block out the window. All the neighbors think I've got a hydroponic pot growing setup in my spare bedroom. I'm waiting for the police to raid my apartment.
At one time the darkroom itself.
It is a Sweedish timber building that is nice and warm in winter and keeps quite cool in summer. It was OK for the first year, then the wood started to settle, leaving gaps between the planking - not so dark anymore.
I have since made it light proof by sealing the planks with a sealant gun, it took a week to get it right. All's well that ends well....
'Determine on some course more than a wild exposure to each chance' The Bard.
I had a nice big room in my basement with lots of counter space and storage and ventalation nd stain-proof counters and a big sink and...windows. Now I could have just tacked some heavy duty plastic over my windows, but it's hard to drill into brick. So I cut some ply-wood to the size of the windows, wedged the in, and went around the seams with a few layers of black duct tape. It looks funny, but I can print in the day now, so whatever.
ok, I think I've hit a new low in the race for the most rigged darkroom. I print out in my garage, but can only do it during the night because of light leaks out of a vent above the garage door. It's about 18X18" and is made of translucent plastic. I was cleaning out the other area of the garage when I found a bunch of lighting gels. I found a fresh sheet of really deep red. I got on my ladder and stapled it to the studs next to the vent. Now I have a really big safelight about 20' from my darkroom area. I will teast it with Azo later this week. I think it might actually work. )
Many years ago, I lived in a small 1 bedroom apartment. There was a closet in the living room that was actually part of the overhang of the entrance stairway. For a full year, I was doing all of the B&W work for a local camera store in that space! I had an Omega D2 with coldlight head on a 3 foot deep shelf overhanging the stairs and 8X10 processing trays on metal storage shelves! THAT really sucked! At least when I processed film, I only had to be in there to load the tanks... I still can't believe how much work I did in that small space.
Bob Fowler firstname.lastname@example.org
Some people are like Slinkies. They're really good for nothing, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.