Just back from a mini-trip to Dublin to take a class on lith printing with Tim Rudman. I really enjoyed it, both for what I learned, and for being able to hang out with a bunch of photographers for the day. I found a cheap way to get there and a cheap place to stay, which made the whole thing do-able.

Tim said something about how photographers spend their lives "hanging out over the chemicals, staring into the dark, and willing something to happen." That is *so* true, and applies to my Friday nights at the pub, as well. I stare at the object of my affection and will something to happen. No luck as of yet, but you'll be the first to know.

I was reminded of late night trips on a Brooklyn-bound "F" after a night at Print Space. I'd forgive you for thinking I was enjoying the scent of a hot woman, but it was the smell of fixer that lingered on my skin. I'd curl up in a corner seat, look at my box of prints, sniff my fingers, and grin like a lunatic.