I discovered a really interesting photographic process last week called Bromoil. It's a process applied to a black & white photographic print wherein you bleach out the silver (which is what the black parts of a print are composed of) and then treat the paper in a chemical that tans it and causes it to harden in varying degrees, depending on how much silver was originally deposited in that particular spot. In places where the paper is harder, it's less receptive to oil-based ink, so when you apply ink to the paper, the parts of the paper that were dark when you started absorb more of the ink, whereas the parts that were lighter reject it, and it gets wiped away. So you end up with a sort of painting of your photograph, and the result looks awesome (some examples I like by Gene Laughter, Rene Smets, and Jurek Karwowski). The technique was most popular around the turn of the century, but has been kept alive by a small group of artists.

I looked through several books published between 1900-1930 about the technique, one of which was Bromoil and Transfer. Aside from the discussion about the process itself, I found this discussion in the introduction amusing and enlightening:

Those who make photographs may be divided into three main categories:

• Record and scientific workers.
• Makers of pictorial photographs qua photographs.
• Picture-makers working in the photographic medium.

With the first very estimable body of enthusiasts we shall have little in common in this book. The two other categories are often somewhat broadly dealt with as "Pictorialists" pure and simple. In reality it is more logical to separate the two caregories, as it is upon the postulation of a common basis of endeavour for both types of worker that much of the heated discussion on the subject of "control" is founded, and this erroneous postulate is also to be found at the base of the very considerable opposition often manifested against the processes which we propose to deal with in this volume.

Photographers included in class (b) commonly style themselves "purists", or "straight photographers", while those in class (c) are apt to stress the word "art" in connection with their work, sometimes with a suspicion of a capital A. In reality these two types of people are not aiming to do the same thing at all, and hence the infuriated discussion of the pros and cons of manual manipulation as distinct from the action of light and chemical reagents can have no finite ending because based upon the fundamental misconception that the results achieved by the two methods of working should obey the same canons.

The "purist" is out to produce a picture which, above all, is to be a photograph, i.e., a light writing. It is just as well if it can be made to conform to some of the demands of other representational arts, but this is not absolutely essential so long as "photographic quality", by which is mainly meant accurate rendering of gradation, is present. Correct exposure and a detailed knowledge of the habits of plates, papers, and developers are the main essentials of success in this method.

The third class of worker regards photography merely as the means, and not at all the end of his endeavours. Photographic gradation is only one of his tools, by which he tries to convey his impressions of what he sees about him. He looks upon his picture as a work of graphic art, and the fact that it is a photograph, or shall we say, involves in its production certain photographic processes, is quite a secondary consideration. Compliance with the canons of other monochrome graphic arts, now generally accepted after centuries of evolution, is with him a sine qua non. Many workers of this type are those who, through lack of time or opportunity, have been unable to learn to draw or to paint, but who, nevertheless, have something to say in graphic form, and who find themselves capable of saying it, to their own and to others' satisfaction, when a craft with a simpler technique is open to them.

I found it interesting to realize that this same debate about the 'morality' of manipulating photographs has existed since the inception of photography itself.

Anyway, as far as bromoil goes, I find it intriguing but don't think I'll actually get involved with it anytime soon. A necessary first step is the ability to make conventional silver prints, which I have no immediate plans to do. And once I get to that point, the bromoil process itself involves poisonous chemicals which don't sound very fun to play with. So it's something I might try at some point, but for now it's mostly just a curiosity.