In the dim and distant past I visited a shoe shop with my mother. I have no idea as to how long ago this was but I suspect I was about 4 or 5 years old at the time. The shoe shop was split into 2 levels separated by a staircase. The area on the ground floor was where shoes were sold. The area on the upper floor was where shoes were mended. I remember as a child being curious and slightly afraid of the noise that came from the upper floor down into the shop. The cobbler used a lathe of sorts that I seem to recall was operated using a footplate that he had to pump to make it spin. Even thinking about it now makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
One time I was in the shop, my mother was having a pair of shoes repaired and we went upstairs and into the noise to see the cobbler. I still remember seeing him, an old man wearing glasses and a brown leather apron with a hat like that of a croupier on his head, bent over the lathe working on a pair of shoes. The upstairs area was pretty dark and illuminated by a naked bulb hanging unceremoniously from the ceiling. The room was obviously a store and packed from floor to ceiling with shoeboxes. The smell of leather was everywhere. I held on tightly to my mother’s leg. The noise, the smell and the creeping darkness terrified me. The old man seemed to me to be ancient beyond compare. It was like stepping into the monster’s lair. If you got too close the monster might swallow you whole!
I reminisce about this memory now. Being a child protected by your mother is a very warm and secure thought. It was an adventure for me and perhaps one of my oldest memories. All these years later, I still vividly recall this evening in the past and still view it from the perspective of a child. I wonder does my mother still remember that day.
I suppose the reason why this memory seems to recur to me regularly is something to do with the mechanical process that the cobbler was performing. He was bringing years of experience and no small amount of talent together to mend something old or create something new in a fascinating setting. In a sense, it is very like the process of taking photographs using mechanical film cameras and printing from the negatives you have created in the darkroom. I have always been intrigued by mechanical processes and manual crafts. It is quite special to have a talent that allows you to create using tried and trusted methods that have changed very little over many years. The craftsman puts something of himself or herself into the final piece. There will be some unique quirk that specifies that the piece of work is the product of a particular person. As our world becomes more automated and commoditised these quirks become more special and significant.
Of course there will often be a small degree of imperfection in items that are produced using a combination of old mechanics and manual intervention. In my opinion, these imperfections are a major reason why these items become unique. This reminds me of collectibles, such as the limited run of banknotes that were found to have a spelling mistake or a particular classic car that was only built for a small group of the marques finest customers. With almost no reservation, any person can print a digital photograph that they have found online and it will be broadly the same as a print commissioned by the original photographer. Not so with darkroom printing. There is only one negative and therefore there is only one means of truly making an original photograph from that medium.
I love this sense of craft, imperfection and uniqueness that comes from the cobbler’s wheel or from the photographer’s darkroom. A repaired pair of shoes will still maintain some characteristic of their owner. Perhaps the laces have been tied in a particular way and have made indentations on the shoe’s tongue or the heel has been worn more on one side due to the gait of the wearer. And so it is with printing. I like a vignette in my final prints and I haven’t quite mastered (I’m not sure that anybody does) all of the nuances of printing so I try to push each print a little further in terms of technique and expression.
Next week I’m going to be brave – I’m taking my shoes to be resoled.
