The voluminous landscape

We were lucky to get tickets to Glenstone, and spent a great day there the other day. It was hot and humid, enough to regret not wearing shorts, but not bad enough to induce fainting. I enjoyed myself among the sculpture, as I always do, and had a few successes and failures on the photographic front. The photograph above shows a black and white version of Richard Serra’s ‘Contour’ in the landscape, and this perspective was one of my favorites. I was able to come to some level of understanding of how the piece works in the landscape and got some nice images. On the other hand, I struggled with ‘Sylvester’, the other Serra sculpture at Glenstone. Walking through the maze-like structure was disorienting — and that is part of the intent. But none of my photographs really communicated much about the experience and that was certainly a bit disappointing. Luckily, we are returning in September.

Irresistible

June and July have been pretty rainy around here until about the last week, when hot summer weather kicked in in earnest. The sunflowers in the yard all started blooming at about the same time. No matter how many times I see them, I end up taking photographs of sunflowers.  In some way, they are much like the human face. Each one is unique in its imperfections, with plenty for the eye to explore, and, hence, worth photographing. The fact that there were a few insects crawling around was so much the better. In this case, I liked the black and white conversion the best. I was trying to mimic the look of infrared film, or rather give just a hint of it, in the final image.

Have a fine weekend with good light. 

Step right up

When my son was very young, five or six years old, we’d sometimes go to one of those stores where everything costs one dollar. It was just for fun, usually on the way home from some other adventure. We’d pick up a couple of goofy toys or a can of Vienna sausages (really). Did you know that Vienna rhymes with hyena? Anyway, the other day I went into one of those chain hobby stores for the first time. I needed to pick up a few art supplies and didn’t want to deal with the long drive to one of the fancy places. I saw a bag of sponges for about a dollar, so I said, ‘what the heck’, and tossed them into my basket along with the oil paints. One of the little sponges is pretty cute, as it turns out. It is always interesting to observe how the camera records what you point it at. It is something that I never get tired of. But the best part of the entire experience was triggering that memory from so long ago. 

How’d THAT happen? 😮

At a certain point in your photographic journey, you expect to see 12 decent images when you pull a roll of 120 out of the developing tank. Plus, you should be able to recall more or less what you did for each frame, especially if you develop the roll immediately after exposing it. So, I was pretty surprised when I saw this image on a roll of Tri-X. First, I don’t remember composing the image or pressing the shutter button. Then, it is apparent that nothing, and I mean nothing, is in sharp focus despite there also being almost no motion blur. Which means I misfocused, plain and simple. There are words for unpleasant bokeh like nervous or jittery. Also, pentagonal. So the image misses on all counts. Yet, in spite of, or maybe because of these qualities, I am a little bit fond of the final result. It’s a minor keeper, to coin a phrase.

Rolleiflex SL66, 80mm lens, Tri-X, Decaffenol.

Frugal IR

I’ve never been a big fan of digital IR photography, especially ‘color’ IR, with its overtly trippy aesthetic, but I still wanted to give it a try since it is becoming harder and harder to find IR sensitive film. After hunting around online for a couple of hours, I purchased a very old Canon 5D that had been converted to IR imaging. It was in well used condition and only set me back a couple of hundred bucks. The first lens I slapped on the front of the camera was an old lensbaby. I figured the lens’s quirks would cover up any focus errors, something I had neglected to consider when going the penny pinching route. Later, I invested in a Voigtländer APO 90mm lens to help even more, but the funky old lensbaby was a fun combination. I think I still prefer the monochrome images better (old biases die hard), but with a bit of work the color images can work. So far, though, I have not been able to come up with a good project involving IR images, but the Canon 5D sure is a pleasant camera to shoot. 

Fuji-san

Most of us end up going through old family photos from time to time, often when a loved one passes, or when we move into a new house and need to consolidate. I came across this image of Mount Fuji a couple of years ago when we relocated. It was taken by my mother sometime in the 1950s, before my parents were married or possibly even knew each other. It was one of the images I felt compelled to digitize. Strange to imagine your parents’s lives from before you existed. What I do remember is that my mom was always fascinated by Asian art. It is interesting to think about how early life experiences can shape our sense of the world.

The tyranny of the grid

In contrast to astrophotography, sometimes you point the camera at the subject, compose to taste, trip the shutter, and voila, the image looks more or less complete as captured. Straight out of camera. SOOC. No need to add a bunch of frames together to reduce noise, correct for vignetting, color grade. No post visualization. None of that. Here I was playing a game of lightning photography, looking for compositions, textures and colors on a walk. Will we ever escape the tyranny of the grid? Do we even want to? Well, I’m afraid those are topics for another day.

Looking with photography

Photography is simultaneously an investigation of reality and a means to investigate reality. That’s according to an essay I’ve just started reading about abstraction in photography. It takes me several readings to be able to even start to unpack essay-length academic writing, so I won’t reference the original essay just yet. The gist of the argument, though, is that photography is not necessarily about looking at or looking through, but looking with. One way to think about this is that each time you go out with a camera, you are essentially doing an experiment, with the camera functioning as an instrument of investigation. Poking at reality with the camera. I was thinking about this concept while watching a YouTube video about how to photograph the Orion constellation and nebula using only a digital camera and a tripod (no other equipment). In total, several hundred frames (what the author called ‘the data’) were recorded and used to generate the final result. Of course, there is also the whole issue of assigning colors in a ‘realistic’ or at least reasonable manner, which amounted to ‘season to taste’. My approach to photographing this tree growing near my home was much more intuitive, but the images are getting better over time as I continue to return to the scene. Presently, I’m happy abstracting to a monochrome vision, but that could certainly change.

Shoot, cook, eat

My food obsessed days are far behind me and my waistline and blood pressure have benefitted tremendously as a result. Thankfully, I can still cook reasonably well — like riding a bike, I guess — it’s just that my interests now tilt toward preparing healthy and simple dishes with fresh ingredients. These miniature eggplants, each about the size of a grape or cherry tomato, immediately caught my eye at the farmers market yesterday. I’ve never seen anything like them, so, before prepping them for dinner I decided to record them for posterity. The aqua box and red netting contrasted nicely with the purple of the eggplant. And by the way, they were quite delicious sautéed in olive oil with garlic and green onion also from the farmers market.

I hope you have good light and many opportunities to shoot this weekend.

Taking a longer view of things

I’ve often heard it said that if you are not quite satisfied with a composition, just rotate or flip it, and you just might find that the new version works much better. That was the case for this little study. Some friends of ours gave us a cactus skeleton and I’ve been ‘getting to know it’ photographically. I think the organic shapes of the cactus ‘bones’ paired well with the marks on the pottery in this image, and I was able to get the colors looking the way I wanted, too. That said, the next study is going to be in black and white. Captured with the Pentax KP using the 100mm macro lens. I’m finding that I really like this combination for still life compositions. Not something I was expecting, since the field of view is narrowed to that of a 150mm lens in this combination. But I find I like the extra bit of compression of the telephoto lens brings to the table. I’ve always enjoyed taking a longer view of things (!) but my perception is that these days wider lenses are preferred by the majority of photographers.

That’s so meta…

In the midst of a career, there will be certain periods of time when you focus exclusively on your work, and your experience of the culture at large is essentially nil. Later, when the slope of your career trajectory drops off a bit (and it will), you may notice these gaps and may even want to fill them in. I’ve heard it said by many pundits that the 1970s were the peak of modern cinema, but I don’t believe it for a minute. I’m finding good stuff from every decade.

Are group shows worth it?

Every week I get an email that lists all the upcoming juried gallery shows. Some of the shows sound amazing, while the scope of my work is not a good match for others. While it's nice to get into these kinds of shows, sometimes the connections between the works is tenuous at best. Much of the work is spot on, but some of the juror's choices can be a bit inscrutable. Anyway, there is a show coming up that is of interest and I am trying to decide whether to submit work. I have a few weeks to think about it, but I may let this one pass. I guess we all feel blasé about group shows from time to time.

Old time photography with a Beau Brownie, super expired Verichrome Pan, and stand development

A couple of years ago I bought a Beau Brownie camera from the early 1930s. Mainly I wanted it for it's Art Deco good looks, but the camera arrived in such nice condition that I decided it would be silly not to shoot a roll of film through it. To my surprise, 120 film wouldn't fit. Turns out, I had purchased the version that shoots 116 film. So I snagged the oldest and most expired roll of Verichrome Pan I could find on eBay. The expiry date on my roll was 1968, and I paid more for it than a roll of new 120, which was a bit irksome. It was one of those rolls you start, forget to finish, and finally rediscover a couple of years later still in the camera. Since the film was so old and there is no way to overexpose with the camera, I decided to do a semi-stand development in HC-110 for an hour. All eight frames were decently exposed but the fog killed any dynamic range the film may have had. The film was digitized using a mirrorless camera and the sepia toning was done in Ps. Most of the images were portraits of family members who prefer not to have their faces plastered all over the internet, but there were some shots from around the neighborhood as well. 

Every once in a while, I really enjoy working with old photographic materials. Folks had really limited options back in the day. I wonder if they complained about things as much as we do? Probably, just not about photographic gear, is all. As photographers, there have never been more options than there are today. 

Lightning photography

Every once in a while it can be fun to grab your plastic fantastic vintage or 'toy' camera and take it out for a spin. While I have a Holga, we don't get on all that well, and I much prefer the cute little Smena 8M I recently picked up for about $30. It is fun to bulk load some film with a random number of frames and then go out for an impromptu photowalk. I took mine with me on a walk around the block recently with the goal of breaking as many rules of photography as I could in 45 minutes. Having recently re-watched 'The Queen's Gambit', this little exercise reminded me of lightning chess. 

Here is a shot made directly into the sun with a small aperture. I had a little fun hand coloring the final print as well. 

Watching the detectives

I sure do enjoy me a good detective show. Frankly, I tend to like 'em all, but if pressed, I'd say that I often like the ones from across the pond just a little more. The quality of the photography and acting is usually better. I like to experience good cinematography and watch good actors work, its as simple as that. The plot doesn't matter that much to me, so it's not a problem that the story arcs are all so similar. I also like to make photographs of the screen during these shows, dragging the shutter, doing multiple exposures, that kind of thing. Then I like to play with the files in photoshop, adding lens flares, blur, and playing with the color grade. Every once in a while, something cool happens. Just personal stuff, really. That said, there is a long history of photographers engaging with the television. The work of Lee Friedlander, Ernst Haas, and Harry Gruyaert comes to mind.

De-caffenol for the win!

The first decaffeinated coffees were produced by extracting coffee beans with highly toxic organic solvents, including benzene and methylene chloride. You'd have to be forgiven for taking a pass on consuming such a beverage. Now, of course, safer means, such as extraction with supercritical carbon dioxide, are used, so brewing a cup of decaf using high quality beans totally makes sense when you want a good experience and don't want to risk the jitters. One thing I'll never understand, though, is decaffeinated instant coffee. Crappy coffee without the caffeine? Seems like a lose-lose proposition. 

My intent was simple. Purchase some inexpensive instant coffee and make a batch of Caffenol in order to compare the results to those I got recently using mint developer. Turns out that in my rush to make it through the grocery store as rapidly as possible, I inadvertently grabbed decaf instead of caf. Bummer! Well, no actually, not a bummer. I reminded myself that the active developing agent in Caffenol is caffeic acid, not caffeine. So, I forged ahead with the mistakenly purchased decaf. Relax and trust the science, bruh. Indeed! The results were fine and dandy, similar to my previous work with regular, jittery Caffenol. To boot, I reduced the total amount of instant decaf in the universe by a small amount. Ha!

Rolleiflex SL66, 80mm lens, Catlabs X 80 film, De-caffenol for 11 min. Less staining, and more contrast than mint, that is for sure, but good results with both. Nice to have two eco-friendly options to choose from.

Hope you have a lovely weekend. Give Decaffenol a try if you are so inclined!

Minty goodness

After several days of frustration and a few rolls of sacrificial film, I'm pleased to have finally gotten to the point where I can say that using mint and/or similar plant based materials is a totally viable way to develop film if you want to go in that direction. Obviously, it took many years of experimenting by a community of enthusiasts to get coffee-based developing from a classroom experiment in the mid 1990s to where it is today. The use of other phenol-containing plants like mint may follow a similar path, who knows? You'll have to decide for yourself if it is worth it. As for me, I feel like I now have a working formula that I can use to get reproducible results from properly exposed film, and that is good enough for the time being. Of course, there are plenty of things still to be optimized, as well as plenty of possible plants to consider other than mint (a topic which might be interesting to explore for a site-specific project).

Monobath clusterf*

There is something fundamentally interesting about using a monobath film developer, at least there is for me. It has to do with the fact that you are balancing two competing processes, development and fixing, against each other in a single solution. This, of course, means that there will be an optimum set of conditions for the monobath to work properly, a Goldilocks problem, if you will. For this reason, I think most commercial monobaths are formulated with films like Tri-X or HP-5+ in mind. It is also why instant film like Polaroid, is such a triumph! So, when I unthinkingly decided to process a roll of Bergger 400 in a monobath, I was setting myself up for weirdness. Grainy, low contrast weirdness as it turned out. I've never seen such odd looking negatives. But, in the end, one of the images from that set kind of grew on me. Not enough to repeat the experiment, mind you, but I do like this image of my yellow orchid. Thankfully, this plant produces beautiful blooms a couple times a year. 

Pear a$$

The pears I picked up last week are at the end of their edible life span. You can tell because the skins are drying out in spite of the high humidity. Time to eat them or chuck them into the composter. I thought this one looked good sitting there atop the bento box containing my wife's lunch. This evening I will find out if it tasted as good as it looked. 

It's a circle. Get over it.

I remember one time a friend suggested I check out a certain photographer's work. When I did, I found that all of his images were presented as circles. It was strong enough work, but I'm just not a big fan of things that remind me of hippy culture, which for some reason circular photographs do. Of course, that just proves how biased I am, so maybe I need to 'just get over it' and reconsider the circle. At any rate, I really did have fun with the unusual-for-me presentation of this photograph. In addition to the hippy issue, circular images tend to remind me of looking through an optical device, which can be a bit heavy handed. In this case, though, my 'star field' was actually a very down to earth peach, so I was okay with the telescope effect. It added to the illusion. I dig the image and I will print out a copy for my studio.

Now, back to editing my rectangular images...

You're not an art factory!

The other morning I was browsing the news and drinking a cup of coffee when I noticed a shaft of light illuminating part of a single crepe myrtle in a poetic way. All of the other trees were still in darkness. My phone was in another room charging, so I grabbed the ever dependable, albeit now rather long in the tooth Canon Powershot G11 to make some visual notes, or sketches, you know, before the light evened out across the yard. Working freely like this can be very enjoyable even though it's unlikely that any of the images will end up as portfolio pieces. Hell, they may not even be Insta-worthy. As it turns out, though, the results of this little exercise were the highlight of my day. My efforts in the studio amounted to little more than polishing turds. Turds happen. I just try to show up every day, is all. 

Developing film in mint?

Does it make any sense to try to reduce the environmental impact of chemical photography? Or should we simply move on if environmental issues are the main concern? After all, cameras existed well before the discovery that silver-based materials could be used to record projected images, and they work amazingly well with silicon-based digital imaging sensors, too. Beyond the issue of environmental impact, though, there is something enticing to me about using materials that are to hand to produce unique photographic results. Low toxicity is a bonus for storing this stuff in the studio with you and your studio lizard, right? At any rate, at the moment, I won't offer any hard and fast answers to these questions, but I have started playing around with different DIY developing and fixing methods. 

Of course, I've tried coffee developers before and have gotten very nice results with them. Coffee can also be used with darkroom papers, something that I intend to try at some point. In the meantime, plant-based materials containing high levels of phenolic compounds are interesting candidates for film developers. Hence, mint. I steeped a handful of mint from the garden in hot water for an hour, added 40 g of sodium carbonate (not bicarbonate), 10 g of ascorbic acid and water to make 600 mL. I exposed a roll of Kodak XX at EI = 200, developed it at room temperature for 30 min, washed and fixed normally (commercial fixer). The negatives were super, super thin. I lost at least 4 stops of film speed, but I got images. So, time to see if this can be viable. 

As far as fixing is concerned, saturated sodium chloride is a historical fixative. I think it is probably archival enough, by which I mean, your negatives will outlive you. Controlling what happens to your negatives after you leave this mortal coil depends on more than your choice of fixative, I reckon!

Magnolia leaf lumen print

Speaking of ephemera, I found an old packet of photographic paper that expired in 1968 tucked away in my darkroom. I had purchased this material on eBay in order to try to reverse engineer Alison Rossiter's process. That little project is long since complete and I noticed there were a few sheets of the old paper left. I decided to use them to make a couple of lumen prints, as I'd never done that before. I really did not want to bust out the photographic chemicals for this little experiment, so I simply exposed the lumen by eye (about an hour) and recorded the results in subdued light using a digital camera. Due to the low sensitivity of the paper to light, it is relatively easy to work with. After the digital capture, I inverted the image in photoshop to get a positive image of the magnolia leaf. I like the results quite a bit. I've decided to store the lumen prints in an envelope in a dark drawer and will check in from time to time to gauge their stability.

I hope you have good light this weekend. If not, you could give lumen printing a go.

Recording the ephemeral

The other day on our daily walk, we came upon some wild mushrooms - Old Man of the Woods. They are edible, but the ones I found this time ended up being dissected and photographed. I took a sharp chef's knife and bisected one of the mushrooms and noticed that it produced a reddish fluid. So I took a piece of nice watercolor paper and made several prints. I was pretty sure the image would fade over time and had no idea how to fix it, and, in fact, wasn't entirely sure I wanted to. Instead, I grabbed a digital camera and made multiple photographs. One of photography's unique superpowers is its ability to record transient phenomena. Sure enough, the image of the mushroom did fade over night and also changed color due to oxidation. I'll continue to document the process of decay over the next couple of weeks. The combination of the hands-on aspects of an analog process with the convenience of digital imaging make it a rewarding way to work.

The push and pull of sculpture and photography

This garden lantern caught my eye at a recent estate sale. I have to admit that I find these ornamental pieces captivating and wouldn't mind having one in my yard. It's already older than I am with an awesome patina of mold, and lichen. I've been reading about sculptors, like Brancusi, who use photography as part of their practice. I totally get it, and am looking forward to a visit to Glenstone in the not too distant future. At any rate, two things prevented me from pulling the trigger on this lovely lantern. For one, the price was a little too high, and for another, it was too damn heavy. So, instead of owning it outright, I decided to photograph it. Although at this stage, it is a sketchbook kind of image, I'm still quite pleased with the composition. 

The lure of the superzoom camera

 

A few years ago, we had a family reunion of sorts in Jackson, Wyoming. One of the cameras I had with me was a Canon Powershot G3X, an all-in-one camera with a 25x zoom lens and a maximum equivalent focal length of 600 mm. Kind of a beast of a camera, really, but I was happy I had it with me that trip. 

One fine May morning, I noticed it had snowed a little bit over night, and I went out to get a few documentary photographs. For those of us who live below the Mason-Dixon Line, May snow is most definitely photo worthy.

The importance of craft

I've never been all that keen on estate sales, even though you can pick up some good things sometimes, including photographic gear once in a great while. The fact that I am rummaging through the belongings of a recently deceased person often sets off a somewhat depressing pattern of thought. The realization that one day soon enough it will be my bones that are being picked, that kind of thing. Still, sometimes, like when the house is particularly interesting, I can't help myself. The mossy stonework in the yard of this house was wonderful, and far more interesting than the items up for sale. Walls like this just wouldn't get built anymore, I don't think. Is stonemason a viable job description anymore? I hope the new owner gives the property the TLC it deserves.

Sunflowers, the Fujica G690, and a roll of slow film

We have a pause in the rain for the next couple of days, so I decided it was an auspicious time to break out a roll of slow speed black and white film and shoot. Earlier in the year, I had purchased a large number of rolls of slower film for the summer, not realizing how poor the light would actually turn out to be. So, I grabbed a roll of Catlabs X 80 and I loaded it into the Tokyo Leica and set up a couple of compositions. I currently shoot with the Fujica G690 from 1968, which is the original version of the camera. I had the 100mm f/3.5 attached. Even in bright sun, the exposure was only f/5.6 at 1/125 sec. The rangefinder is still in calibration and I was working near the minimum focus. The depth of field was a real challenge! The film was shot at EI = 80 and developed in HC110 B for 8.5 min. All eight exposures were spot on. They were digitized with a digital camera and processed to taste in Ps. In this case the black border in fact corresponds to the edges of the physical negative. It is an interesting film with a lot of exposure latitude and flexibility in post. 

Sunflowers always remind me of the Fourth of July.

The constant (but lousy) gardener

It is hard to believe I thought about majoring in botany when I first started college. No knack for growing plants. In fact, I have the opposite of a green thumb. But I am also nothing if not patient, and after two seasons, I am pretty stoked to have some healthy echinacea growing in the garden. What I realize, of course, is that my success is due solely to my absence from the garden. Oh well, I'm actually fine with that. It's the flowers I want.

At any rate, I also want to document these little guys, as I am not that familiar with their life cycle. I recently purchased a new digital camera with a plethora of pixels. So, one of the things I've been futzing with is its so-called crop mode. This reads out the middle part of the sensor and turns the field of view of my 85mm lens into that of a 135mm lens, albeit with a significant decrease in resolution. Still, there's enough data for digital sharing, and even printing 8x10's. The camera also has a ton of video features. Wonder if any of those could be leveraged for still photography?

Artistic synergy

It is always nice when one of your photographs can serve as inspiration for another person, especially if they are working in a different medium than you are. So, I was happy to send the color version of this image to my wife, who said she might reference it one of her fiber pieces at some point. It could very well be the case that my photography already is being influenced by her work. It's all good.

The weather is a bit miserable here at present, the light is flat and boring, but at least the temperatures are not in triple digits. I hope you find good light this weekend! 

The power of sequence; the power of focus

I was in a hurry taking a photograph of this old mill. I was parked on a busy street in a rough part of a town I don't know very well. So I didn't want to faff about composing this image. For the frame on the left, I placed the focus on the barbed wire and let the background be controlled by the DOF at f/8. For the frame on the right, I focused on the building. When considered as single images, I tend to prefer the one on the left. But, in revisiting the images after the passage of a few months, I kind of like the interplay of the two versions when presented as a diptych. The change in focus can suggest a narrative, but in a very subtle way. Subtle = good, right? Shot on the Leica R9 using the 50mm f/1.4 lens. There was a time when I preferred the f/2 version of the lens, but now I'm digging the 'Lux. Delta 400 film with sloppy development :(.