Look Where Others Don’t

The photo I shared here yesterday is one of my favorites, and while I haven’t commented much on those I’ve posted before, I can’t help but talk about this one.

My daughter and I were walking around downtown Keene, when I ducked into an alley and shot this as she muttered: “There he goes again.”

love alleys.

They’re full of interesting things, and what’s more, no one ever seems to notice just how wonderful they are.

Out on the street?

Nine out of ten times, what you see out front has been hand-crafted. Windows washed, sidewalks swept, brickwork scrubbed—gotta keep it clean for the tourists.

And while I don’t mean to sound derisive or elitist, I find scenes like that boring as hell. There’s no energy or interest to be found in a well-kept facade.

But out back, down the alley? No one bothers to pull the weeds, paint the drain pipe, or wash the lone window overlooking the dumpster.

And that’s the good stuff.

That’s where you see the real rhythm of a place—employees on a smoke break, the stray cat nosing a forgotten sandwich, a beam of light illuminating unkempt vines that have been challenging the brick for decades.

I love absolutely everything about the picture above.

The lines of the poles, that patch of light on the wall, the pallet. The vines, the wires, that tire track—everything. Not a single thing in this photo looks out of place to me, and not one bit of it was planned out or made beautiful for the public.

It just is beautiful.

How To Weather Paper

Last week, I spent an entire morning baking paper in my oven.

See, I have an idea for a “concept photo” that I want to shoot (actually, I have many such ideas, but let’s not talk about that) and in order to pull it off I need to make a document that’s essentially been ruined, but in an interesting and “artistic” manner.

The problem: I had no idea how to go about such ruination. Or really any idea of how to make props at all.

So, I decided to start small, and focus on one piece of the puzzle: learning how to weather or age paper. Five hours of tutorials, tips, and trial and error later, I think I have a semi-decent handle on one method to do it.

In case you might be interested, here’s what I did, and how I did it.

Step 1 – Start with good paper

I went with Southworth’s “Premium 25% Cotton” inkjet and laser paper. I have an inkjet printer, so that much of my selection should be obvious. What’s more important, though, is that weathering paper means putting it through some serious abuse, so the paper you start with needs to durable.

We’re going for “looks ruined” and not “actually ruined.” You can get 250 sheets of this stuff for around ten bucks, and it held up well.

Step 2 – Make some tea

I did some tests with coffee, dirt, and muddy water, but tea gave me the best results by far. It’s a cliche for a reason—it works.

I used four Lipton black tea bags, because you can buy a box of a hundred for like three bucks. You’re not going to be drinking it, so go cheap. I tossed the tea bags into a cup and a half of boiling water, poked them around with a wooden spoon until they were soaked through, then turned off the heat and let them steep until everything had cooled down enough to handle.

I’ve heard various claims about what the temperature of the tea should be, but I didn’t notice any difference between hot tea and room temperature tea.

Step 3 – The soak

I squeezed out the teabags to retain their precious fluids, tossed them, then poured the results into this big glass baking dish I had laying around. Whatever you use, it has to be large enough so that your paper will lay down flat on the bottom.

Slip your first piece of paper into the dish of tea and carefully move it around. You want to make sure of two things: that the whole page is under the surface, and that there are no air bubbles under the paper.

Because I was experimenting, I soaked my paper for different amounts of time, ranging from two minutes to eight minutes. The longer it soaks, the darker it will get, obviously. However, the longer it soaks the more fragile it will get, particularly around the edges.

That can give you a bad time when you lay it out to bake.

Step 4 – The bake

Preheat your oven to 200 degrees if you’re an American, and 93.3333 degrees if you use Celsius. (Y’all must have some weird stove displays.)

Carefully take the paper out of the bath, shake off the excess as best you can (just so’s it doesn’t drip all over your work area), and lay it out on your baking sheet.

Small air bubbles under the paper are fine, creases and wrinkles are not. Creases and wrinkles will create harsh lines in the page once it’s done, which will probably ruin your day.

When your oven’s ready, stick the paper in it for 15 minutes.

Step 5 – Repeat the soak and bake

I got the best results with two “full” soaks and bakes, and one “edge” soak and bake. I’ll get to the edge soak in a second, but for now, just take your paper out of the oven and look at it. Too wrinkly and crinkly? Don’t worry, there’s a tip below to fix that. Just look at the color and pattern.

If it’s not dark or marbled/mottled enough, repeat steps three and four until it is. Then we’ll consider the edges.

Step 6 – Darken up the edges

As it ages, paper almost always gets darkest at its edges. So, we should make that happen. Do a quick, thirty second soak of the whole piece of paper, just to get it wet, then lay it down on the baking sheet.

Once down, use a paper towel to soak up some of the tea from the bath, and sprinkle/dab it just around the edges of the paper. Get a decent, thin bead of standing tea mixture on it, then carefully stick it back into the oven for another 15 minutes.

This will darken up the edge, and I think it gives a very nice effect. That said, it may take you a few tries to get the fade just right.

Tips/Tricks

That’s pretty much it, although there are a couple of other things you can try which may improve your results.

  • For a tattered or ragged edge, set up the paper as you would for an edge soak, but before putting it into the oven, worry the edge with a wooden toothpick. Work slow, taking tiny, tiny bites of the paper away from the edge to give it a subtle roughness, or go for big fat hunks for a chunkier look.
  • Paper too wrinkly for you? Iron it. Go ahead and crank up that iron to its hottest setting and give it a whirl. Just keep the iron moving, and do both sides of the paper a couple of times. Be careful, don’t set the paper or yourself on fire, and it’ll turn out fine.
  • If you need a single piece of weathered paper, plan on making four of them. You might get things perfect the first time, but don’t count on it. There’s a certain trick or art to this, and you’ll get the best results if you experiment, do multiple batches in parallel, and pick the best of the lot after all is said and done.

And lastly, a warning. Every one of my attempts to weather paper with inkjet printing on it have failed. The paper itself looked alright, but the print is far too crisp and resilient. It gave the whole thing an artificial look that just destroyed the aesthetic I was going for. You may have better mileage with pen and ink, but I haven’t tried that yet.

Look for a follow up post once I do.

Wherein I Say “Goodbye” to Linux

Last weekend, I officially bid Linux “adieu,” and installed Windows 10 on my laptop. And while this may not seem like a big deal to you, it’s a fairly significant milestone in my life.

Since ’96 or ’97, I have always had at least one computer running some derivative of UNIX. And since about 2002, that’s meant a GNU/Linux distribution. Well, there was that year I owned a Mac Mini, but the less said about that the better.

Twenty years of Emacs, binutils, and a shell that made sense. But also twenty years of hardware woes, incompatible file formats, and moving-target user interfaces.

Well, things change.

My level of patience, for one.

I have a six-month-old Canon printer in the other room which only barely works under Linux.

Half the time, I have to power cycle both the printer and my laptop to get it to work, and Linux has not once condescended to allow any other computer in the house to even see it.

My printer is also rumored to be a scanner, but anyone who has ever gotten a scanner working under Linux should probably be burned as a witch.

And yes, I’m sure there are solutions to these printer/scanner issues, just as I’m sure there are solutions to all of the dozens of problems—both big and small—which have plagued me for years.

But that’s just it: we’re talking years. Twenty of them.

And after twenty years of reading HOW-TOs, digging through mailing list archives, and suffering through “helpful” advice like “switch distros” whenever something’s broken, I just want to plug a printer into my computer and have it work right the first time.

So, over the last few months, I weened myself off of all those things I’ve used Linux for, and last weekend I pulled the trigger.

I’ll miss the good things a nerd-friendly OS gives you. The lack of Emacs alone is something my therapist and I will probably be talking about for some time. I’ll cope, though.

And my printer will work.