Connecting the Dots: Art, Alchemy, and the Unexpected Path

You never step in the same river twice.

There’s a concept that’s tricky to grasp, but once understood, it changes everything: You don’t truly know where you’re going—whether in life or art—until you start walking the path. Planning can only take you so far. The real direction reveals itself through action. Having faith that your interests, intuition, and destiny will eventually collide into something great—and completely original—is the magic sauce.

That philosophy has been a constant in my artistic journey. Looking back, the dots have connected in ways I never expected, leading me to a body of work that merges contemporary materials, 19th-century technology, and a relentless curiosity about the interplay of light and time.

The CD Case Experiment

My first unconventional use of CD cases in art began with a self-portrait in tar, created during my divorce. The choice of material wasn’t random—I liked the poetic symmetry of using plastic, a material derived from oil, as a base for a work made with tar. It was a way of transforming something discarded into something meaningful.

Self portrait in tar on CD case by Don Ripper, Private Collection

From there, I pushed further. I added silver to the back of the cases to enhance the reflectivity of ink and tar, producing landscapes with an unexpected luminous quality. As far as I know, I was the only one exploring this medium, which gave me the freedom to experiment without limits.

Tar and Silver Leaf on CD case by Don Ripper, Private Collection

Before long, I was connecting multiple CD cases to create larger, abstract landscapes. These early works found a niche audience—true avant-garde patrons who saw potential in what I was doing. I still laugh at a conversation I had with one of those early collectors, where I half-jokingly told him that if he ever saw me making the same artwork a decade later, he had my permission to shoot me.

“Coastal View Blue” Oil and Silver on CD cases by Don Ripper, Private Collection

A Margarita, an eBay Bid, and an 1850s Lens

Then came the pandemic—a strange, disorienting time that disrupted everything. One night, under the influence of a late-night margarita, I placed a reckless eBay bid on a 19th-century Petzval lens from the 1850s. At the time, I knew nothing about wet plate photography. But if I could teach myself how to make a proper crumpet during lockdown, I figured I could certainly learn the arcane alchemy of Civil War-era photography.

“Blackburns” Collodion and Silver Nitrate on tin by Don Ripper

What captivated me most about tintype photography was its relationship with light—specifically, silver. The very same silver nitrate that made 19th-century photographs possible had an undeniable link to the reflective silver I had been incorporating into my CD case artworks. I didn’t know why I was so drawn to this medium, but something compelled me to immerse myself in its toxic, unforgiving chemistry for over a year. (By the way, do you know how hard it is to buy ether in bulk?)

Shooting on site with 1850’s Petzval lens in Winter Harbor Maine

The Dots Connect

Here’s where things get interesting. I’m not a photographer by profession, but after hundreds of failed attempts with wet plate photography, I had a moment of clarity: The doing was the reason. The path itself was the answer.

That’s when the dots connected.

“Dream Blue” Oil, Collodion and Silver on CD cases, Private Collection

I revisited my beloved CD cases, but now through the lens (literally) of the 1850s. What if I merged Civil War-era wet plate photography with my contemporary mixed-media techniques? What if landscapes became modern mosaics, where new and old coexisted in ways neither could achieve alone?

The result was a series of works that felt like something completely new yet deeply rooted in history. My first pieces in this style were well received, selling quickly at Artemis Gallery in Northeast Harbor, Maine. But even with that success, I knew I had only scratched the surface of what was possible.

The Next Chapter

This piece was completed in 2021. Looking at it now, I still feel the same pull to explore this convergence of materials, time, and science. Maybe it’s time to dust her off and put her in my window.

I don’t get many opportunities to be editorial in my work, but maybe I should.

Maybe that’s the next dot to be connected.

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