Courtesy Photo A pinhole camera self-portrait of Scott Speck, whose work is on exhibit through Dec. 20 at the Delaplaine Visual Arts Education Center, is shown.

His wife was always the serious photographer. But when she said she missed the years before digital cameras, his interest in photography and his artistic career took off.

"She missed film, so as a gift I bought her a small pinhole camera and film," Speck said. "I thought we could do (photography projects) together."

Pinhole photography -- an old camera technique that does not use a lens, but rather a tiny opening to project a image onto film inside a dark box -- proved an epiphany for Speck.

Two and a half years later, the Pasadena resident has shown his pinhole-made pictures in 15 exhibitions, from Baltimore bars and Artomatic in Washington to a show in Indianapolis. A dozen of his large photographs are on display through Dec. 20 at the Delaplaine Visual Arts Education Center.

He described his first time using the technique.

"We took a small pinhole to Savage Mill, got some film, and it so blew me away. My wife, Kathleen, was like, 'Yeah, it's neat.'

"I thought they were incredible. I exploded. I thought, 'I've found it.' Almost since that point, I've been doing nothing else in photography."

Pinhole cameras can be used to make sharp, realistic portraits, but they can be manipulated to create surrealism with stark images bending time and space.

In one photo at the Delaplaine show, "The Massive National Archives," thick columns, marbled steps, ceiling tiles and enormous wooden doors are exaggerated in dreamlike grandeur. In another, "Down the Tracks," a short stretch of railroad tracks, set among glistening rocks, appears long enough to reach the end of the earth.

In "The Gift of Spring," a weathered concrete statue of a wreathed girl holding out a nest of birds is, in turn, positively alive and fairy tale-ish.

With large 4-inch by 5-inch format film, Speck's pinhole camera incorporates a 160-degree field of vision -- "wider than my Nikon fish-eye" -- onto a picture without the curved edges of a fish-eye lens. Everything remains in focus. Not just the wreathed girl in the foreground, but also each tree in the forest background.

Because the pinhole is only an inch from the film, Speck explained, the spread of light is cast on the entire frame, stretching objects to its edges.

Early pinhole cameras were used by Leonardo da Vinci and others for projection. Today, they appeal to aficionados such as Speck.

His cameras weigh several ounces and are made by hand of wood and brass. They contain no electronics. Film exposures, depending on light, can last from a single second to one hour. Speck joked that sometimes he brings a book to read along with his light meter.

The challenge comes in his own imagining of the photo, combining experience with intuition. Unlike traditional cameras, pinholes have no viewfinder to see what is projected before the shot is made. Taking numerous shots is impossible, unlike with digital cameras, so each one must be carefully considered.

The results seldom fail to surprise.

"It's funny, the objects that I intend to capture are always in the photo, but often what I think will make a great photograph doesn't," Speck said. "And other things that look seemingly ordinary are better."

He twice tried to capture a large waterfall at Patapsco State Park, but the image was just confusing, he said.

"I took another photo of a small, maybe 12-inch waterfall -- a steady drip, really -- but that came out so much more interesting," Speck said. "You could see every drop of water, the wet stones and moss on each side.

"The pinhole draws you in because everything is in focus -- the moss, the stone, the texture. It's very tactile; that's why I like it."