My First Tintype: How I Fell in Love With Wet Plate Photography

I made my first visible tintype on March 12, 2011 — and even though it was rough around the edges, it sparked something that's kept me hooked ever since.

Before I found tintype photography, I spent years shooting 35mm film with a Minolta Maxxum 3000i. Back in the late '90s and early 2000s, you could still drop off a roll of film at Walmart and pick up printed photos (and your negatives) a few days later. I loved the process, even as digital photography started to take over.

I dabbled in digital for a while — early point-and-shoots, Photoshop filters, HDR experiments — but none of it ever felt truly satisfying. Even though my day job was (and still is) rooted in technology, I kept finding myself pulled back toward more tactile, traditional processes.

Discovering Wet Plate Collodion

Around 2009 or 2010, I went down a YouTube rabbit hole trying to see if I could ressurect an old family camera. That’s when I stumbled onto a video by Quinn Jacobson about the wet plate collodion process.

He said something like, “If you love history and don’t mind working with dangerous chemicals, this might be for you.”
I thought: That’s exactly for me!

From there, it snowballed.

I joined the old Collodion.com forums and started asking a million questions. I bought a copy of John Coffer’s "The Doer’s Guide to Wet Plate Photography", a handwritten, Xerox-copied manual that came with grainy old DVDs converted from VHS tapes.

The more I read, the more it felt like I had found something I didn’t even realize I was searching for.

John Coffer's Doer's Guide to Wet Plate Photography Manual

Building My First Darkroom in Old Hickory, Tennessee

First tintype camera vs the Deardorff Large Format Camera Blake Wylie uses today in Nashville

At the time, we lived in a small house in Old Hickory, TN, just outside Nashville.

My first "darkroom" was black plastic sheeting stapled to the basement ceiling, a folding table, and a red fluorescent light from Home Depot.

I built my own silver tank and fixer trays out of acrylic. I mixed my own collodion ("Old Workhorse" recipe) and japanned my own metal plates.

I even converted an early 1900s Kodak Brownie box camera into a crude plate holder — recommended by John Coffer as a good, first test camera.

It was messy, it was smelly, and half the time I wasn’t sure if I was ruining the chemicals or the equipment.

But I loved every second of it.

March 12, 2011: The First Image Appears

After a lot of blown-out plates and overexposures, I finally realized the Brownie’s simple lens didn’t need a 30-second exposure.

Ten seconds was enough.

On March 12, 2011, standing in that makeshift basement darkroom, I watched my first real tintype image appear in the developer tray.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was faint and scratchy.

But it was there — and it felt like opening a door into another world.


From Basement Experiments to Backyard Portraits

Scott Field and Sons Tintype in Nashville Early

After that first success, I roped in friends from Music City Improv to come sit for me behind the house.


We made messy plates, laughed at the mistakes, and kept experimenting.

In 2012, I upgraded to a Century Studio 8x10 large format camera, a serious leap forward from my homemade setups. Around the same time, we moved to Franklin, Tennessee, where I started setting up outdoor shoots under natural light.

Eventually, I added Speedotron strobes so I could shoot indoors — no more worrying about Tennessee’s unpredictable weather during a session.

Even though I had started out photographing old buildings and still lifes, over time, I found myself drawn more and more toward portraiture. There’s something about working with people — capturing a real expression, a real moment — that felt more alive than anything else.

Fifteen Years Later, Still Hooked

Now, nearly 15 years after that first plate, I’m still at it.

I still mess up. I still get frustrated.

But I also still have moments where the chemistry, the light, and the subject all come together in a way that feels almost timeless.

That's what keeps me coming back to tintype photography.

It’s slow. It’s unpredictable. It’s incredibly rewarding.

And I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

Curious About Tintype Photography?

If you’d like to experience the magic of wet plate collodion firsthand, you can book a session here or learn more about how tintypes are made.

I’d love to help you create something timeless — one plate at a time.

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What Is Tintype Photography? A Guide to the Wet Plate Process