Most alternative process books only devote a few pages to Anthotypes. Of those few pages, the majority of the space tends to be taken up with images. Part of that is the simplicity of the process: combine dye and booze, set in sun, wait. Very simple, yes? There isn't a lot of explanation required. But, the other reason is that the anthotype just isn't very popular. It never achieved the same status as a "mainstream" alternative process like the gum print, cyanotype, Van Dyke, platinum/palladium print, salt print or albumen print. At best it's a curiosity and not "real" photography.
Well, there are points there. Certainly, the anthotype is very different from 'standard' alternative processes. The anthotype isn't capable of producing the same range of detail that's seen in the processes that are based on light-sensitive metal salts. That's just fact. Another fact is that, even for contact printing processes, they take a long time. The fastest anthotypes you'll come across, chlorophyll prints, take hours in hot, bright sun. Even the densest cyanotype negative will print in an hour or so.
Permanence is another problem for many printers. A lot of alternative process printers are very attached to the physicality of their processes. They want a print that they can mat and frame. The physical object is of utmost importance for a lot of folks. Well, the anthotype doesn't, won't and can't produce a permanent print. The only way to make a truly archival anthotype is to scan or photograph the original print, then reproduce the print digitally. That's not acceptable for many alternative process printers, who want an original print as their final product.
All these things add up to making the anthotype a rather unpopular process. Generally it gets the short end of the stick, and is treated as basically a gimmick. Fun for kids, but not for 'real' art.
I don't know if you, dear fictional reader, have been following the rest of my blog. I will assume you have, since you're just a construct of my imagination. That means you already know I don't care about archival permanence. We can make stuff archival.
So, why do I like the anthotype process? Well, for one, it's slow. That's actually perfect for someone like me, with an attention span that may require special one-dimensional mathematics to measure. It seems counter-intuitive. Wouldn't people with a short attention span just forget about their anthotypes and run off to do something else, never to return? Well, yes. That's the point. You can prep a dozen or so anthotypes, put them in their frames and let them sit to expose. Since it's almost impossible to over-expose an anthotype, if you forget them for an extra few days, it's no matter. By the time your anthotypes are done exposing, your attention span has wondered away from whatever it was busy with while you had the anthotypes in the sun. You're ready to spend a few hours disassembling your frames, scanning your prints and recording your notes. Then it starts all over again.
That's why I tend to refer to my anthotypes in 'crops'. I prepare a whole sheaf of papers, sometimes a few dozen in one go. Normally this is during a busy, busy day when I'm also making a bunch of new dyes. Making dyes always gets me in a semi-manic state, so I'm more than happy to sit around in gloves and maybe goggles, coating paper like a crazy person. With my buttloads of coated paper, I'm ready to gather a few frames, prep the prints and set the crop out to bake in the sun for a few days or a few weeks.
Then if I get caught in a funk, or busy with something else, I can wander away and come back when the crop's ready to harvest. One more long day of work scanning and taking notes and that crop's processed. Generally, the manic surge of art-ness from a new anthotype harvest gets me ready to spend the next day excited and setting up a new crop. But, if not, it doesn't really matter. I sometimes take breaks of months between crops, especially if I get really into some other project. And guess what? It doesn't matter. Not one bit. I have coated paper from a year ago that's still just as good as it was the day I coated it. The paper, if you keep it in a dark place and out of extreme heat, it keeps for a nice long time.
I mean, there is the other stuff. Getting to play mad science with the different dyes, how I enjoy the process of experimentation and documenting my findings to share what I learned with other people, bringing my love of history into the present by using primitive dye techniques and materials, getting to learn so much about plants and chemistry (the fun chemistry, not the stuff with math)... well. There are a lot of reasons that I enjoy anthotypes. And I'm going to keep researching, keep experimenting and keep documenting. Because when I write about them, it's not going to be one pathetic chapter in a book about 'real' processes. And you can bet that I'm going to show just how amazing anthotypes can be.
Permanent or not, commercial or not, anthotypes are every bit as viable a form of artistic expression as encaustic painting, platinum printing or glass blowing.
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