The Legacy Shuffle - One Way Around P.A.S.

Morning folks - been a while I know, however I have been a beavering away again and have only just found time to get into the darkroom. But it has been fine - makes one appreciate the finer things as it were!

Also, not just going in and banging off some prints has made me realise that P.A.S. (Print Accumulation Syndrome) can be largely pointless at my time of life.

A strange statement? 

Well not really, because there comes a time that one realises the mortal coil is moving on and at the end of the day, someone will have to deal with the tons of old prints and negatives you've shuffled away from and left behind. 

Oh yes, one can't beat facing one's own demise to sharpen the mind!

The Late, Great Agfa MCC
Archivally processed
Selenium toned
5x4 Kodak TXP Negative

Luckily I sorted out my negatives years ago. 

It was time-consuming, but simple and ultimately useful in the long run too. 

Am I looking for an image I remember taking a couple of decades back? 

Well, that is easy, refer to the contact print, look at the corresponding details that are written on the back, search through appropriate negatives and bing, you're there.

Shooting across multiple formats as I have done over years meant that rather than just having a big mass of negative sleeves and no idea, I spent a bit of cash and got organised. 

First things first, divide negatives into formats. 

Sadly if you've not written the date on the negative sleeve, you've got a problem right off. You'll need to stretch your mind (if you can be bothered) however it is worth it. 

I tend to number my films in the following manner:

35/001 (for the first one) and progress from there. Luckily I have detailed in notebooks which camera I used, where it was and the date. I then ALWAYS make a contact print of said film and file them away chronologically (and notated on the back) in boxes (old 8x10 paper boxes) for the format, which is clearly marked on the outside: 35mm Contacts 35/001 to 35/999 (whatever number of contacts are in there).

Then there's 6x6, so 66/001 - same procedure as above. Brief dalliances with a 6x9 box camera and the two 6x7 cameras I have owned are marked 67/001 and 69/001. There is a slight twist to the 66 ones - I now have a 645 back for the Hasselblad, so that is lumped under 66, however notated 66/333/645/1 (meaning the Three Hundred and Thirty Third 6x6 negative set, but the first 645). 

It makes sense to me. 

Again, they are all contacted and filed away.

5x4 negatives are treated in exactly the same manner.

I store my negatives separately per format too - it just makes things so much easier. 

The boxes I use are the clamshell CXD ones which have a solid 4-ring binder system in them - they're not massively expensive yet are extremely sturdy. 

The negatives themselves are stored in either Print File or Clearfile Archival sleeves. 

I really hate glassine sleeves simply because you cannot see what is going on without removing the negatives from them - plus, if you've got an accidental wet hand in the darkroom and are trying to remove a new negative, the glassine can become difficult to say the least.

And that's yer negs sorted! 

Easy eh. 

It does take time, but in my humble opinion it is time well spent, especially because it will force you to re-examine your own archive. Believe me, you have some gems in there!

One thing I did a few months back was join (well, not really join, more turn up and introduce myself!) the Photography Forum at Dundee's DCA. 

It is a loose collection of really good photographers, all with their own take on things and, every month, some truly surprising and enjoyable images. 

From my own point of view it has made me focus on what I am going to take along, and this in turn has made me go a huntin' through Ye Olde Negatives And Contacts to find something to print. 

This is a good thing.

Now I could just be going through the old piles of prints searching for chiff chaff, however now I have a point of focus I want to print new stuff. 

Not only that, but a lot of those old legacy prints, are, to coin a common parlance . . S.H.I.T.E. 

Printing is a life-long learning experience. 

There, that is that out of the way.

Aside from the life-enhancing qualities, it is also fun, however it can often be utterly frustrating and demanding (weirdly both physically and mentally) but at the end of the day it beats hanging about on the corner with the lads, smoking tabs and drinking beer.

Also (despite what you've probably seen written or vlogged to death) it need not be complicated. 

In fact, it can be as simple or as complicated as you like. 

A lot of beginners feel they need to dive deep into split-grade/lith/f-stop timing/analysers etc etc etc. Well, I'm here to tell you, YOU DON'T.

Actually, you don't need much more than the bare basics:

Enlarger (or controllable light source if you are contact printing)

Easel (always handy but masks made from card, or print corners held down with masking tape can suffice)

Grain focuser (I used to poo poo these, but as my eyesight has got worse, completely rely on one  - the wee Paterson Minor is a good place to start)

Four Trays (or more - they're always handy) 

Jug and measuring receptacles (I use cheap jugs from hardware shops - they last for years)

And that is it. 

Your darkroom doesn't even need a dedicated water source. 

Certainly it is handy, but for myself, I don't have one and get along fine. 

You use a tray as your print washer. Dedicated print washers are expensive though handy, but until you feel you need one, it is easy enough to wash in a tray under a slowly running tap or steeping the print in multiple changes of water. 

If you're printing with RC paper, washing does not take long; if you're using fibre it will take longer, however any of the wash aids (Ilford, Kodak etc) used before washing drop the time dramatically.

SIMPLE.

The Late, Great Agfa MCC
Archivally processed
Selenium toned
5x4 Kodak TMX 400 Negative

All the scans in this post were produced from prints made with the bare minimum of equipment - albeit, given my decades long investment in the craft, decent equipment.

They were printed on my last five sheets of 9.5 x 12" Agfa MCC fibre. 

This was a wonderful paper. 

I got the box from the late, great Sandy Sharp when he was shutting the doors on his darkroom. 

Initially I thought it was fogged, especially given that there is a sticker on the box reading "£30, Mr Cad, 2006"; however a couple of sheets in and it was fine. 

As a paper it has always elicited a response - not down to the printing, more down to the lovely slightly warm quality, and the exceptional D-Max and surface. 

Ah, it was great, and I know Adox still make it's equivalent, however it really is too rich for my blood in these post-Brexit times - well over £100 for a box of 50 sheets. You could make some very expensive mistakes.

Anyway, I'd been sitting on 5 sheets for a few years now, and decided to go for it. With the exception of one print (the brown one) I was very pleased with the results, and passed around at the DCA they got some very kind (and, working as a lone photographer) encouraging, comments.

Anyway, that was a brief aside.

As I said I have boxes of old prints. A lot of them I like, and a lot of them I think are pretty awful. 

I'll keep the ones I like.

But, and here's where my new point of focus comes in - I am now re-examining my archive of negatives with a view to creating an archive of prints that might not necessarily end up in a skip. 

In other words, I am trying to imbue my decades of photographic tinkering with an air of GRAVITAS. 

And I think there is only one way to do that, and it is to present your prints as if they mean something. 

In other words, they're not just a collection of random images presented on varying paper formats in varying ratios of image size. 

Bruce from The Online Darkroom and I have slightly conflicting views about this - he thinks getting a book or two made by the likes of Blurb is the answer. To an extent, yes, I agree with him, however I think that is really just the gravy on the main feast. 

Books perish. 

Yes it can take a hell of a long time, but they do. 

They get handled a lot if they're good; people are less than careful with them so pages get scubby and dog-eared; they can suffer from poor storage and get foxy - a ghastly thing! 

They can be leant out to other people to never return . . . you know the sort of thing. 

So while they may be precious to the next generation along, two generations down they are just some old books produced by someone you've never known, but who was related to you.

There are no guarantees a proper archive won't be treated in the same way; it could well be lost or disposed of, however, I feel it might have more of a fighting chance. 

You are sort of armour plating it for an unknown future. 

As such, it has to be as damn near perfect as it can be.

It has to say, to someone in the future: "There Is Worth In Me." 

And not just monetary worth, but worth garnered from your (the photographer and instigator) images of a world passed by.

It is no wonder we look at the collections of vintage prints held in archives around the world and hold them in some sort of reverence. Granted, the majority of photographic collections are from The Gods Of The Shutter, but all the same, there must be, in cupboards or dusty attics, cardboard boxes and plastic boxes, an Everyman Archive.

Images too precious to be disposed of: Mum, Dad, them in love; a lost sibling; a treasured pet long gone; a carefully made and contact printed 8x10" of some trees you thought were beautiful. You know the sort of thing.

So what I am saying is: solidify, for future generations, the importance of that.

The world of the photograph is dying. The world of the image lives on, on SD cards, hard drives, in servers around the world, and yet, for want of a better expression, it is ephemeral.

I won't go into the whys and wherefores of 1's and 0's vs. physical media - it is too long and too dull, however what I will say, to you . . . yes, you there with a print in your hand . . . is that what you are holding is a precious object, of value far more than its physical form. 

You are holding time. 

You are a Master Time Lord. 

That moment you have captured and decided to make physical will never exist again, so why not give it a decent chance of a future.

The prints have to be the best you can make - they have to be consistent, printed beautifully and processed to archival standards. 

They have to be presented in archival polyester sleeves and stored in archival clamshell boxes. There are archival sleeves and archival sleeves - I can truly recommend Secol HC. 

I use them.

They are not flimsy; they protect a print perfectly and are manufactured in the UK from completely inert and Acid-Free 80 Micron polyester film, making them safe for photographic and paper long-term archival storage.

They are not cheap, but they fill one with a confidence that 100 years down the line they'll still be doing their job.

Museums use them . . . 'nuff said.

Now all this sounds a bit extreme, but in reality I genuinely feel it is worth it. 

And you know what? If you're a digi-bunny, you can join in the fun too! 

There are archival inks out there (albeit probably more expensive than making a silver print!) and printing them onto an archival paper will give you a good running chance. 

Your main danger (as is also the case with a silver print) will be exposure to UV. 

It is a killer. 

Even reflected UV can take its toll - you can see that on the spines of books, CDs, DVDs that you might have on display, but not stored in direct light. The spines will be faded. It isn't always the case, but especially with modern books it often is.

So beware. A good quality clamshell is probably sensible.

Anyway, if this has set you thinking, GOOD.

It has always been the aim of FogBlog to get people thinking about things.

The Late, Great Agfa MCC
Badly printed, saved by bleaching.
Archivally processed
Selenium toned
5x4 Kodak Ilford HP5 Negative

The Late, Great Agfa MCC
Archivally processed
Selenium toned
5x4 Kodak TMX 100 Negative

The Late, Great Agfa MCC
Archivally processed
Selenium toned
5x4 Ilford Delta 100 Negative

And that, as they say, is about it.

You can do it. 

Think about it and give it a damn good shot.

Someday, decades from now, someone could be looking at your stuff and saying: 

"Damn, how did this survive?"

As with all things in life, there are no guarantees, you can only give it your best shot. 

But rather than sending off a wee balsawood craft into the stream of time, why not make it more seaworthy?

"Ship-shape and Bristol fashion!" is what my dear old Mum used to say, and who am I to disagree with her?

And that's it for this year folks - normally I do a round-robin, but it was becoming old hat and besides the robin needed his bonnet back. 

There will be more posts next year, but until then, Season's Greetings to you all. 

Peace.

H xx

Deep Woods And Soggy Pants

Morning folks - well, decorating and DIY were put aside for a brief four days of holidays in the Borders (of Scotland). It's an area we know well and love very much.

The feel is very different to the West side of the South Of Scotland, which is quite wild with less obvious history. 

The East Borders are easily distinguishable by the mark the Romans made in trying to conquer Scotia, that is, lots of forts, earthworks and a series of roads which span millenia. 

The main of these is Dere Street, which stretches from York all the way to Edinburgh and was a proper Shanks' Motorway for hundreds of years. 

It is now partly called "The Pilgrim's Way."

You can get a fantastic idea of the post-Roman period in history by reading Rosemary Sutcliffe's (ostensibly for 'children') trilogy: "The Eagle Of The Ninth", "The Silver Branch" and "The Lantern Bearers". 

They're largely dismissed these days as being historically inaccurate and a bit twee, however, as a lifelong reader I can honestly say, of any of the billion books I have ever read, these throw you full-on into the dung and stench of the early, post-AD period; you can feel the pain, terror and sheer excitement of battle; the smell of woodsmoke and cooking fires; the wear of daily travail; the clank of armour coming over a distant moor - you get my drift - they're Time Machines.

A remarkable achievement by a lady who was wheelchair bound for all her life and could only wander afar in her imagination. 

Highly recommended.

Anyway, back to the main monkey-business - you wanna banana Choppers? 

Yooz got it.

I've often found on country holidays that the easiest way to get anything satisfactory, photographically, is NOT to go for The Grand View. 

Fuggedaboudit. 

No point. 

Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it.

Pickin' their nose and chewin' it, chewin' it, chewin' it. 

(Sorry, you obviously didn't go to the same school as I did where the aforementioned ditty was much popular in about 1969.)

To me Grand Views leave me as cold as anything.

They're just foul interpretations of the immense beauty of nature. Granted it is hard to stuff all that wonder into a small lens and thence onto a sensor or film, but tbh, they've been done sooooooo many times, is there really any other point to them other than to prove you were there?

I think the Grand View really dilutes the power of Landscape Photography.

You have to feel a place before it can talk back to you.

My solution?

Immerse yourself in what is literally just outside the door of your cottage, caravan, hotel, tent, whatever.

Check the Ordnance Survey map of your locality. 

Bing Maps Aerial Views are pretty good too, but to my mind an OS can make sense of features you haven't got a scooby about.

See something interesting? (in the case of my recent holiday, an Iron Age Earthwork on a promontory on a very minor river) find it and photograph it and its environs.

It is far more satisfying to be able to say to yourself:

"I doubt anyone has ever taken a picture here before!"

Honest - try it and see.

So there I was, after an afternoon of really heavy, thundery showers, desperate to get the tripod and camera out and get out for a small photograph.

We had an earlyish tea, I donned suitable outdoor gear, and out I went. 

Full sundown was around 8 PM and I was out about 6.30.

I think I have described the gloaming before - it is a wonderful Scots word for that time when the world is just nestling down into darkness. 

It, to me, also encompasses the brief period before sunset when things start to quieten a lot. 

Birds set themselves down; small mists lift themselves free of grassland; rivers take on a loud rushing which is totally different to normal daytime. 

You can feel the peace coming on.

It is my most favourite time of the day to take photographs. 

Light changes quickly; aside from everything getting darker, you need to take into account that pretty much every frame will be different. 

You also need to work quickly and methodically. 

No farting about. 

Know Your Onions (as my Dad used to say).

Jane's Wood 1

As you can see from the above, despite the sun star, the light was falling fast - what you can still see of the sun was just cresting the woods on the other side of the gorge and literally I had minutes before the whole place settled itself into deep gloom.

I am happy with the print - it is hard to capture soft light like that without being underexposed or printing too heavily - you need a measure of low contrast just to keep things down a bit.

Film was FP4 developed in HC 110 on Dilution B. I printed it in Ilford MGRC. 

My camera was the Hasselblad 500 C/M and the lens was the newish and totally wonderful 40mm Distagon. 

Compared to the Biogon on the SW, it captures the same amount of detail (which is vast - easily the equivalent of 5x4 if not more so) but is slightly contrastier and doesn't have the same 'air' that the Biogon has.

I put this down to the coating and also that it is more than 10 years younger, and of course a different design. 

I love it though and for landscape it is far easier to compose with than the Biogon.

Jane's Wood 2

The small, overgrown path down to the gorge passed an iron age fort (as mentioned above - it was sited in a marvellous and easy to defend position) and entered a wood called 'Jane's Wood'. 

It was planted in memory of a young woman, Jane Thornton, who died in 1984. 

It is all small Oaks, though obviously they're growing, and the place has an air of total peace. 

Jane and I would be of similar ages, and I wondered to myself how she died. I also, felt entirely humbled by the fact that someone would plant a whole Oak Wood in her remembrance. 

What a beautiful tribute to a life cut short, and weirdly, it was almost as if her spirit imbued the place with a certain something. 

Of course that could just be donkey shite on my behalf, but I actually truly think I stumbled upon that spirit of place I always look for.

As she had been raised on one of the nearby farms, I assume she must have loved the place too. 

The route down, was, as they'd say "A Well Ken't Road" as, at the bottom, there are the remains of a truly ancient bridge - I'd put it back to 17th or even 16th Century. It's tumbled and gone though.

I got to the bottom of the gorge and managed to finish off the rest of the film in difficult circumstances. I've not included them here because they don't have the same soft, gloamy feel.

I was pretty much soaked to the skin and deeply sweating too (it was quite a climb down through slippery wet vegetation) but being next to a river at dusk is just about my favourite thing in the whole world and I got the feel of this small, yet quick river, deep into me.

Certainly near where we were staying there was plenty of camera fodder, but in being careful and using maps and intuition to explore before setting out, I got lucky and chanced upon a feeling and an unexpected place I shall never forget.

God bless Jane, and thank you.

The above print, was another difficult one and I had to print on Grade 4.5, as, even though I'd compensated for reciprocity in my exposure, the light was outrunning that factor if you get my drift.

Again FP 4 in Dilution B and printed on Ilford MGRC.

And tha-tha-that's it folks - be good and watch out for those tripod ruts.

H xx

Broken Crackers

Morning folks - this is just a quick update on That Cream Cracker Feeling.

Well, the Mamiya C220 went back for an overhaul. Seemingly it was the lens unit that was completely out (as in, taken apart and fecked beyond belief by some wazzock) so I waited. 

And waited . . .

And waited!

A new lens unit was sourced, body was overhauled, screen adjusted properly (I had to  explain that one to them!) and 3+ months later, I got the camera back.

It looked lovely and squeaky clean, however . . . .

The Single/Multi button still moved with the breath of a gentle breeze, meaning it would need to be taped over for day-to-day use. 

The 'new' Sekor-S lens looked wonderful, but the shutter speeds were well out and worse still, the aperture lever was louder and less smooth than the Salt Mill in our kitchen. It made an intense grinding sound that felt as bad as it sounded - I dunno - it was like the ball-bearing had gone or else there were large chunks of sand in there. 

Man was I peeved, so. getting back on the phone, I let rip in a vaguely Sheephousian fashion, which is actually, fairly pleasant.

In all fairness to the vendor, there were no arguments, the whole lot was sent back and, to be honest, I have no desire to explore Mamiya stuff ever again, which I guess is a good thing in some ways.

It's a great shame though, because the C220 was fairly easy to use; however, having spent years with little wonders like a Rollei's considerably lighter weight and its lovely, moving parallax indicator, I can see in hindsight somewhere down the line, me and the C220 wouldn't have been pals. 

It's better off in someone else's hands.

I am quite sad about it on one hand - all I wanted was a small carry about MF camera, and, ostensibly, the 220 fitted the bill, but yeah, excuse me whilst I type, justify and think, the parallax thing would have  been really annoying. 

Bruce at the The OD says he rarely missed shots with Mamiyas due to parallax, however from my own point of view, I still do it with the SW, so I cant see it stopping anytime soon!

So, the hunt went on. I made enquiries about getting the T overhauled, and it seemed to approximate to £180, and no guarantee over the longevity of the rubber speed/aperture bands [If you're a camera restorer, I can really recommend for ALL rubber bits (older, pure rubber that is) a product by the French Welly manufacturer Aigle; it is called Swipol. All their boots are the highest quality rubber and Swipol suits pure rubber - this being said Bruce says he uses silicone spray on his car hoses (I had no idea such a thing was available). But anyway, Swipol. I've used it on Vulcanite (lightly) and it has been very good indeed.]

And then I decorated some more, and you know what - the feeling of G.A.S. went away and I came to think that really, maybe I had enough cameras - 13 serious ones at last count! - and I really should be making do with what I have. Phew.

Make Do
Hasselblad 500C/M, 40mm CF/FLE Distagon, Ilford HP5+

Been a loooong time coming.

This being said I can still see myself with a Rolleicord - I haven't quite given up on that!

And that is the end of that little tale. The old adage still rings true - Caveat Emptor.

It is especially appropriate in this day and age where a lot of people have no idea what they are selling, or indeed, even whether it is fit for sale.

Over and out.

H xx

Consistency

Morning folks - it has been a while, I know, but Summer is a time for hanging about in the garden, reading, eating raspberries, y'know, that sort of languidity, but as the mornings are getting darker, I am getting back to a certain swing . . . so, without further ado - onwards!

Now, this may or may not prove interesting/dull however, if you're like me, and have a darkroom, you'll print a fair bit and probably (also like me) have boxes of:

a. Prints

b. Scraps

c. 'Work' prints

d. I'll do a better one next time

However fortunately (unlike dust bunnies, bags of documents to be shredded, receipts, bus tickets, etc etc) they don't breed when you're not looking at them; no, they sit, patiently, waiting to be admired, adored, framed, scanned or, most likely, tossed out in a fit of pique!

And whilst they're not exactly a problem, they become a problem of sorts.

Pigs, Piglets And Runts

I was brought up short by this recently when I had reason to find some prints to take to a Saturday morning 'portfolio' session at Dundee's DCA.

"Hmmmmmm" is what I said to myself as I waded through paper sizes ranging from 6 x 4" to 9.5 x 12" . . ."just where does one start?"

The majority of stuff was printed on 8 x 10" and a mix at that, of Resin and Fibre all from different manufacturers; however the finer looking prints were, to my eye, on the smaller paper sizes. 

I particularly liked a set printed on some really old Agfa MCC FB. It had a semi-warm look to the paper base and the gloss was JUST RIGHT. 

The only problem though, was that the paper size was 5 x 7" meaning that the images (all squares) were 11 x 11 CM, or approximately 4½" square. 

That is pretty tiny really, and all the more so when you consider that they were taken on one of the world's great optics - the Zeiss 38mm Biogon. 

They were also all shot on a tripod, with the film (Ilford FP4+) being carefully developed in Pyrocat-HD. 

There's no two ways about it, to my eyes this set-up produced a top class negative, with nothing being washed out, really good mids and shadow detail. 

The negatives printed dead simply at Grade 3, with little hand-wafting. 

Ideal is what I would normally say.

But then I printed them small.

Did I say small?

I meant to say dead small.

It seems a bit incongruous to me, that I take all that optical and image quality and condense it to sit proudly on a print not much bigger than yer oldy holiday snaps of yore, but with much less image space being taken up!

Bonkers actually.

These should be BIG prints and hung somewhere in my study, and yet . . . . 

There's something about small prints that I like.

Apart from being considerably cheaper to produce, a 5x7" has a nice tactile quality. Even nicer is the old whole plate size of 6.5 x 8.5".

Where 5x7" feels small in the hand, whole plate feels small but substantial, and in fact in a strange way and to my faculties, actually bigger than 8x10". I've no idea why that is, but it is a lovely format, though very short on choices of paper.

Anyway, all this tomfoolery highlighted something to me - I need to get my arse in gear and print a portfolio of decent images I am happy with on consistently sized paper.

It's no good having some 9.5 x 12s' some 8x10s', some 5x7s'. some 6x4s' all dotted about the place with images taken on 35mm, 645, 6x6, 6x7, 6x9 and 5x4 - it all looks too bitty, and, inconsistent.

So, self soundly admonished, that's a project for The Winter. 

I have a reasonable stock of fibre paper too, including a box of unopened Grade 2 Galerie and a box of Kentmere Matt (lovely stuff) from when Kentmere was still based in Cumbria.

So I could use that up, or, nail my trousers to the Fibre Only Mast, sell my kidneys and go all the same manufacturer - though my choices there are pretty much only Ilford MG, Grade 3 Galerie, Art 300, Bergger, Foma and possibly Adox - and that is it.

The old Agfa MCC fibre is wonderful stuff but I only have it in 5x7 - I would have happily printed everything on that. Adox's version isn't quite the same, but it IS a good paper.

In a world of choice, ye olde darkroom enthusiast is being painted further and further into a distant corner.

Of course, with the way energy is going over here, I might not even be able to turn the enlarger on . . . that takes me back to pre-enlarger days when I tried contact printing Rollei negatives using a sheet of glass and a snooded torch . . . yes, well, enuff said . . . .

Wish me luck.

Till next time, stop skipping and try hopping and jumping instead.

H xx

It's The Flattest Squarest Tube

Beware Humans!

We are about to encounter some disruptive reading ahead.

We can only approach if you have one of the following:

Time

Eyeballs

Interest

You might encounter several of the following emotions:

Anger

Disinterest

Joy

Sadness

Melancholia

All objections will of course be logged, but ultimately ignored as we are going this way anyway.

All set?

Za_0g*)! will take your names and hand out refreshments.

Our E.T.A. is 46.21zp (A8933347821bp time).

P.S. Our Editor [Mister K.R.Zong-k-kl] is currently on holiday and we haven't had time to do the washing up.

'Allo

'Allo

'Allo Tosh, Gotta Toshiba?

'Allo Tosh, Gotta Toshiba?

That's An FST

That's An FST

(Right)

Flattest Squarest Tube

It's The Flattest Squarest Tube

They Ain't 'Alf Built Well

They Ain't 'Alf Built Well

'Course Every Toshiba Component

Is Stronger To Last Longer.

Know What I Mean?

That's Good

Weeeey!

That's Good

Weeeeeey!

'Allo Tosh, Gotta Toshiba?

'Allo Tosh, Gotta Toshiba?

From another galaxy, though in reality only 37 years ago, here we have the brain-burrowing genius of great advertising. Even if you didn't want to buy one, you (well, certainly me) couldn't escape the fact that Toshiba was lodged in your brain for a considerable amount of time. 

Although there is some dubiety as to who sang it (some say Alexie Sayle [because of his great single "Hello John Got A New Motor" on which the ad was based] some say the late Ian Dury) personally I'll go with Dury - it actually sounds like him, albeit tarted up - Alexie was far too manic.

As for me (in a weirdly prescient move which pre-dated the advert by a few years) when I arrived in Dundee and got my College grant (yes, FREE Education - who could conceive of such a thing) I blew a small chunk of it on a Toshiba Ghetto Blaster (I think it was an RT-8155S). 

It was a fantastic machine, sounding great and taking an auxilliary input from my Akai 4000DS Reel-To-Reel (weird eh! but the majority of music I had, had been captured [or added] to reels of 7" tape - I wasn't going to lug my record collection to college, and I didn't have a cassette deck at home). 

The TOSH proved to be an all-round good egg of a buy for quite a number of years.

But what the hell has this got to do with photography you ask?

Aha, he said, fiendishly twirling his moustache, well, I could have entitled this "Ultimate Pano" or "Kamera Korner BARGINS" but didn't, simply because people would be rushing around and going crazy, creating alarms and looking for more ways to scalp us enthusiasts.

Y'see, at exactly the same time Toshiba (sic) were creating brain-burning ads and large lumps of plastic and metal that were ultimately bound for landfill, camera manufacturers were, I believe, reaching their peak.

It is easy to say that the peak had already been reached in the mid-70's and was tailing off, but I'll throw in the fact that, arguably, photography, and the ease of making good images (of which digital is the bastard child) really came into its own with supreme Japanese manufacturing techniques; universal camera automation and, above all, the sheer affordability that came in the 1980's.

My Olympus OM10, bought new with a 50mm f1.8 lens in 1980, cost me £105 (with a case!) - I took thousands of photographs with it - honestly, I did.

And more incredibly, apart from a lazy iris on the lens, it still works really well - the shutter blind auto-exposure system (sort of a checky effect) is still accurate; OK the foam has gone a tad, but a couple of new Silver Oxides and it is up and working, snappily, the way it should. 

That is astonishing VFM.

A 40 year old, reliable companion that helped educate my eye. 

It was an affordable investment to me at the time - one could say that it brought a whole new slant to life which is still with me.

And that affordability was the genius of economies of scale.

At the time, being a student, money was a BIG thing, as in you didn't really have any. You could though withdraw £15 in cash, old money, on a Friday, get really steamed on Friday and Saturday and still have ackers for the following week. 

So you can see from that even with the OM's £100 price mark (a not insignificant investment) the sheer reliability and simplicity and above all else relative affordability (for what was really a luxury item) made it a 'must have'.

If you were serious about trying this new-fangled thang on a student's budget, it was either the OM or a Pentax K1000 - they were both priced the same - but to me the OM felt futuristic whereas the K1000 felt decidedly old and clunky. So I bought it and fell in love with shutters.

From the start, I also knew that when the bug bit seriously, I had to get better cameras. 

I became totally enamoured by the square (courtesy of DOJCA's vast collection of student loan Mamiya 330s) so would consequently glue my nose against Jessop's windows staring at the lovely Zenza-Bronica SQs they had on display - they were gourgeous. 

Of course they weren't Hasselblads (as far as I was aware - though I hadn't even seen one in the flesh!) but they were their equal in my eyes. 

If only I could have got one, I could have lurched off into the blue yonder to take landscape photographs that would move people . . . sigh.

And then reality bit.

Who gave a damn about pictures of hills and weather and trees (well I did - it made up a chunk of my degree show); landscape was dreadfully unfashionable, and as is often the way of dreams and hope, my ambition was throttled by hard reality and the need to find employment.

No back up, no money and my aspirations of becoming a landscape photographer/"fine-art" printer died in the cocoon.

And then . . . . in a planetary orbit somewhere down the line . . . .

A piece of luck, magic and puntsmanship happened. 

I borrowed money from my son's Uni repayment fund and I found myself with a Hasselblad 500 C/M.

Made in 1985, it had belonged to a retiring professional who had bought it as back-up, and had had it regularly checked over by Hasselblad - the wonderful, tactile body cost me £335; my first lens (the 60mm Distagon) cost £439. 

The body (from pretty much the same era as my old Toshiba - still wearing a dayglo tracksuit with shoulder pads) hasn't gone to landfill, and in fact (based upon today's prices) would currently have been able to buy three versions of its secondhand self in old money; in other words sublime engineering doesn't seem to go out of fashion, it just seems to accrue more value.

When I received it, I knew I held something special, but more importantly, the ghost of that young landscape photographer in me was moved to eventually come alive again and I give thanks for that.

Homeless Encampment - Dundee 2022

However this is rambling off-piste on a grand scale - so I'll find the track again, let you have a breather and a wee, and we'll get cracking on.

I have a friend who collects antiquities and he always says (when asked [by me] about the cost of something he has bought):

"Well, they're not making them anymore . . . " 

To which I would add, with the way prices on pretty much any old film camera are looking these days, have we hit a sort of ceiling or are things going to continue rising in cost exponentially, given:

"they're not making them anymore . . . "

It's a thorny issue.

For instance, who would have thought the lowly (yet lovely) Olympus Trip 35, would be snapped up by newbies for the equivalent price of my old OM10 (or even more). 

It's a fine camera, but hardly the dog's wobblers.

And so it goes on - as someone who uses a 500 regularly, can I truly justify (on average) £120+ on a useful Bay 60 coloured filter? Or £350+ for a replacement waist level finder?

 

Has avarice and the ability to finance and then horde, turned what used to be a thoroughly enjoyable, egalitarian hobby into something that is starting to look like the art and investment world?

During WW II, they had a word for it: PROFITEERING.

 

I mean, c'mon, £1000+ for a Leica M2 body? 

£2500 for a M6?

Both great cameras, but that great?

Is marque valued over ergonomics?

Which begs the question, is it really time to act on all those Minolta Dynax' or Canon EOS, or Nikon prosumers?

Are the likes of the Canon Sureshot et al, tomorrow's Trips?

Maybe.

Knock yerself out  - snap 'em up now - they're decent, well made cameras; (currently) supremely cheap enough that if the electronics fail, you can nab another and carry on - you could probably buy nearly a hundred (or more!) of these old things for the current cost of a 500 C/M and 80mm Planar.

Much to my chagrin, a few years back I contributed to this madness by selling a Nikon AF600 (which I'd bought for a fiver) at a massively over-inflated price . . . it's a plastic auto-Nikon with a decent fixed focal length lens, but hardly LEGENDARY - an attribute you will find on the net . . . 

Given the recent selling price of an Andy Warhol screen print (not even the original photograph, that was by Eugene Kornman) when the world is awash with art, are we looking at certain of the great photographic manufacturing names entering into the realms of Raphael or Picasso, or even Rolex and Omega,  Fabergé and Tiffany etc etc.

It is a chilling (yet stupid) thought, because where does it stop?

All it needs f'rinstance for some net-twat to proclaim that the old giveaway red panoramic cameras are brilliant and the next thing you know everybody wants one, and, ahem:

"they're not making them anymore . . . "

In reality though, yer plastic fantastic is not the main monkey business.

It's the big jobs.

Though a Leica is a fine machine, does it handle any better than, say, a Canonet to justify the price difference? 

A Hasselblad is also a fine machine, but in reality (though you buy one because it is a system camera) does it handle any better than a Bronica SQ, or even a Rolleicord?

An X-Pan now goes for as much as a secondhand car . . . . yet, the red panoramics or indeed any 35mm compact with a panoramic setting will produce nearly the same format (though not the same square millimeterage - 1584 sq/mm if you need to know). 

In fact the above-mentioned Nikon AF600 had panoramic mode AND a fine lens . . . see what I mean,

I have a feeling the market is being dictated by wheelers and dealers who don't use film cameras on a regular basis, nor really know that much about what they are selling save the name (and all important net-reputation) - a case in point is the 40mm M-mount Minolta Rokkor lens originally made for the Leica CL. A startlingly sharp lens, yet (because it isn't German or even Canadian and an old bit of info that it won't focus as accurately on a M . . . though apparently it does) widely ignored by a chunk of the Leicaphile community. 

If it is an ideal focal length and incredibly sharp, who wouldn't buy one to go with their M? 

Oh wait a minute, it isn't one of The Pantheon. It's too cheap. Jap-Crap. Move on, move on.

The same goes for Canon L39 lenses - easily the equal of their Leitz equivalents, probably better in regard to age related issues, and yet . . . . 

I could slap a new/old Zuiko on my OM10 and go out taking photographs - I'd come back with results that were pretty damn good - those Zuiko wides were always lovely. 

I could buy a Nikkormat (still incredibly cheap for such a reliable machine) and take advantage of all those great pre-Ai lenses and arguably take as good (or better) photographs as I do with my M2.

At the sizes I enlarge negatives to, why not ditch the Hasselblad - a Rolleicord would probably do me fine.

What I am saying is:

Just because a camera has a legendary name, it doesn't mean it is imbued with magic.

It just means that the people who were fortunate enough to be able to make a living or a name from photography, chose the legendary brands because of availability/reliability/reputation, AND THEN, created magic.

It's like guitarists who buy their heroes guitars so they can sound like them.

It ain't going to happen. Not ever, not at all.

Guitar magic comes from the soul, your fingers and your heart. 

Add in physicality, stance, grip; the million minutiae that go to make a person AND THEN, that person's ability to put something of their self into the machine they are using.

It is as individualistic as your fingerprints.

Yet a whole decades-old industry has been built upon the premise of:

Certain instruments, if used correctly, might just make you:

a. AS GOOD AS

b. SOUND LIKE

c. BE

 your favourite player.

There are great parallels with photography.

The salient point is though, with guitars there are still cheaper instruments being made. And the thing about them is, they allow proto-musicians to find their own voice. 

When film cameras were cheap and plentiful, yep, they allowed the photographer to train their eyes and hone their craft - find their own voice within the world of traditional photography as it were. 

But that went with digital and the rise of the phone.

Jings, it must be really hard if, say, you are in your late teens, mad to take photos, want to try film, buy a Lomo, enjoy it but get frustrated, want to try something better and discover you have to mortgage your kidneys to get something that my generation took for granted.

Maybe though, at this moment in time (2022 for all you time travellers) it is time to kiss those kidneys goodbye, because, as I said:

"they're not making them anymore . . "

The film camera as style icon/fashion accessory/hero machine/investment piece . . . it is coming, if, indeed, it isn't here already.

Investors have already moved in and enthusiasts are being driven out.

There are parallels with the tech/housing crisis in the States (go on - look it up!) - what a strange world. Tom Joad must be spinning in his grave.

Please note:

We have now passed through the main turbulence and are about to enter an area of space known as "DEEP SADNESS".

Many come out of the other side in reflective mood but with mayonnaise stains on their ties.

Those sandwiches Za_0g*)! is handing out are a bit rank aren't they.

Photography has always been regarded as a bit of a "retired dentists'" hobby, as in you have enough money to fund something that has never been (and is now more than ever not) cheap. 

Vanishingly so these days, wouldn't you say?

There they were at dentists conventions (sic) wielding M6's, not because it necessarily meant anything, but because, like all good dental machinery, an M6 (et al) was a finely put together machine that (deservedly so) was to be admired.

Even Her Madge, Elizabeth II had a M6 ff's sake . . . 

However, at current prices, a Leica M6 is a thing that few film enthusiasts will ever be able to admire (let alone fondle.) 

They're now only touchable by 'serious' buyers. 

And as such, are you, the enthused enthusiast, being forced into an investment/speculate situation simply because of the movements in the market.

To draw parallels with the guitar trade, I certainly know now, that back in 1989/90 when I was offered a 1962 Fender Stratocaster for about £1200 (but turned it down because I didn't have the money and didn't like Strats [!!]; or even way back, mid-1970's [when hair and 'rock' were the thing so why on earth would anyone want a 'country orientated' early/mid-60's Fender Telecaster for about £150 - and believe me, Wardour Street and Charing Cross Road were awash with these things]) I wish I'd had the gumption (and the cash) to take a punt.

Hindsight is a rare thing:

Ten or Fifteen years back there were thousands of secondhand M6's around. They averaged around £700.

Now, as with all things Leica and film-based (though curiously NOT the old, L39s [in my opinion, the proper spirit of the Leica]) the market is as dry as a desert, unless of course you have a King's Ransom to spare. 

Weirdly this dearth doesn't apply to certain useful accessories, which says something.

As for the cameras and the likes of the close-range Summicron, or indeed the 35mm Summi, they appear to have all gone into collections, to have new hand-stitched Italian leather suits placed on them; to be oggled by one's friends; dusted and cleaned with balsams and balms on high days and holidays . . . 

A world far removed from their original intent as an intuitive, small, precise, window on the world.

The hunka-hunka chunk of Swedish engineering that is my 500, designed for professional use (imagine, some of those 1980's 500s that people are paying well over £1000 for, could have possibly been seeing hundreds of rolls of film a week through them in a big studio - they were after all a professional tool) is now a thing lusted over and I believe, being increasingly bought for its aesthetics and investment value rather than its original purpose as a maker of supreme quality images.

A sad old world where yet again, money is valued over art. Where, controversially, talent is possibly being held back by market forces.

A case in point, I met a lad a year or so back - totally enthused - photographing around the back of the Art College. We were both masked and careful. 

We chatted. 

He clearly had talent and an enthusiasm that was infectious - he named names from the Pantheon Of Greats and I mentioned a few he'd not heard of; he really wanted to use film on a regular basis.

He was using a cheap Digi-Canon, because he said he was unable to afford a decent film camera (and indeed all the extra stuff required to remain film-based.) 

I felt a little (shall we say) circumspect with a SWC/M on a carbon fibre Gitzo with Arca ballhead . . . .

I hope he finally managed to afford to get something, because you could tell, with the right tools this bloke would have flown. 

You don't get to talk with that much vim, without being in love with the thing.

I could go on, but I won't, I do however feel that we're entering a new age in camera use. 

Please could all passengers hand their litter to Za_0g*)!

Entertainment will commence in 3 minutes.

It was going to be a Space Cowboy adventure with James T.Kirk (Clone 4) riding into town and sorting out bandits, but unfortunately our Prime account has been increased to 4.2 Zongs per solar year and seeing as we are a budget operation we are no longer able to subscribe.

Za_0g*)! however has found an old Betamax machine and we have rigged it to show a Third Generation copy of Mork And Mindy.

Oh boy, I am looking forward to this!

Nano Nano!

A lot of these cameras are old (well, certainly ageing) yet serviceable machines, but the way things are going, in reality, and in an alternate universe, would you take your 1930's Frazer Nash out to Tescos, or your '60's Lamborghini to your local supermarket car park?

Are we getting to the point whereby (because of the likes of the red dot spotting camera snatchers - they do exist btw, ask Za_0g*)! ) you don't take your pride and joy out, simply because it is too valuable or precious?

In an era when the agricultural, reliable, metal and glass breeze-block that is the Mamiya RB67 is on the highway to £1000+ (!) and it's sibling the RZ has now gone stratospheric (though curiously nobody gives a shit about the Bronica GS1), do we have to rethink how we approach our hobby?

It is really hard to see further down the line - the future is far muddier than it was even 5 years ago. 

Will film become something manufactured in ever decreasing circles? 

I mean why, these days, would anyone bother using Kodak unless they are either vastly rich or mad? Sorry American cousins, no idea what it is like with you, but it is double the price of everything else over here and thus (to me eyes) they've totally written themselves out of the UK film-buying market.

If, because of current pressures on world commodities and resources, film, chemical and paper prices rise to the extent that for the average Joe, they are unviable, sic:

Eat?

Heat? 

Photography? 

Where does it go from there?

Despite the "Analog Revolution" maybe people will just think:

Fuck it - I never print anything anyway, why not just save money, go totally digital, view it onscreen and be done with it.

And yes, I haven't been living in a cupboard  - I do realise people use film and scan it - that's fine, but to be honest how many of those scans are ever printed? 

Made into a PHOTOGRAPH to be hung or passed around? 

I would estimate approximately 75% of all scanned film ends up as Flickr feeds and goes nowhere else.

Actually, when  you look at it like that, logically, apart from the process of using a film camera (which is always enjoyable) and processing film (which is always a voyage of discovery) scanning seems to be a largely pointless activity. You could get the same end result (images viewed only on screen) using a digital camera.

It's a controversial statement I know, and I am still not sure how I feel about it.

But if cost starts to factor more and more and people realise that they could achieve the same end result just purely digitally and film sales start to retract to the extent that it is no longer a viable medium . . . . where do your investment pieces go then?

It'd be like a gun without bullets.

Or a Lamborghini without petrol.

Beautiful to look at, but effectively as useless as an Instamatic.

I hope I am raising more questions than answers, as it has always been my intent to get people to think about this wonderful hobby. 

If it makes you question things, then good, but it'll do little to the current state of profiteering.

It's funny y'know but Bruce (from the Online Darkroom) and I have a sort of camera watch thing going on (he recently sent me a pic of a guy in St. Andrews carrying a Fuji GW690 f'rinstance). He's beating me though, because apart from a couple of Japanese girls in Dubrovnik and Rome; a bloke with a Trip in Jedburgh and a kid with a Minolta in Edinburgh, I have never spotted another film photographer in the wild in the past 15 years. 

WTF is going on?

For all the "Analog Revolution" is film photography dying on the vine?

Are we already in the raisin stage   - a few old wrinkled fruits left whilst the rest of the crop have dried beyond redemption?

Remember good old film is nothing more than oil, silver, chemicals and energy. 

Will it even exist when $100+ barrels of oil and Vlad's squeeze on minerals/resources/food/energy mean that it is no longer viable to produce?

In economies of scale terms (and I have no idea how Harman/Ilford do it these days, but I love them for their commitment and quality) everything is moving in tighter circles.

Could we (that's you and me!) be the last of the WET photographers?

It is a chilling thought, yet one which demands (in a nice way) that, for the moment, could the investment market please just piss off and leave the use of (and ability to afford) these working machines to people who can still appreciate them and practice their craft whilst there is still film left to use.

I think we're on a Razor's Edge with film. 

If it becomes too expensive, we stop using it. 

If cameras (tools, not toys) become unaffordable then we stop using it.

Simple as that. 

And when it is gone, it is gone.

It'll be as antiquated as glass plates.

Certainly there are still plenty of cameras out there, but remember you are dealing with a finite resource. 

OK you'll say, you can still buy new cameras. 

OK I'll say, thank you for the Alpa 12 (approximately £10,000 with lens - wonder how many they sell a year?) but feel free to keep the Lomo.

So the non-superstar photography enthusiast is left with what is left - see what I mean?

If you're like me and you have a few (!) cameras, look after them - they're treasures. 

Though even then, I wonder (50 years down the line) who there will be with the specialist skills to look after them. 

The madness of a Leica CLA (after all you can't have your pride and joy going around with soiled underpants) means that all the Leica specialists in the UK seem to be booked up all the time - there appears to be little headroom.

Are new guys and gals being trained?

Who knows.

If I was really young and mechanically-minded I think I know what I'd do . . . 

It would be nice if, in say 50 years time when I am pushing up the daisies, some young buck was OUT THERE with a remnant of my humble collection, taking images, feeling atmospheres and kicking the ball further down the field.

My rictus grin would be enormous, yet sadly I can't see it. 

There are too many people pissing in the pool and making it desperately unpleasant for us swimmers, and not only that, someone has taken the plug out . . . .

Looked at in terms like that, it is GRIM.

Sunshine As Grafitti - Dundee 2022

Don't you think it is a sobering thought (tinged with deep sadness) about what has been lost in the exodus to digital?

(F'rinstance 1506 separate parts, assembled by hand, in a Nikon F2!)

And what is still being lost in over-weighting the market (£3000 for a 500C/M and 80mm? . . . . on Ebay as of today from a well-known dealer . . . c'mon)

You're talking around £15,000 for a new Leica M/A and a 50mm Noctilux - hardly student money - see what I mean about retired dentists?

Where is the affordability in the market?

Is my current viewpoint terribly pessimistic? Maybe, but I would always say I am a pragmatist before anything. 

Looking at it another way, us seasoned old geezers and galzers, raised on Brownies, Instamatics and then proper toys, have probably got on average 25 years left.

Everything we've taken for granted is going to get worse from commodity prices to weather to over-population.

So unless we can get ourselves into the future that was always sold to us back in those days of yore: y'know, personal space ships, holidays on Mars, we're stuck on Planet Earth.

But What about the Neu-Philanthropists? I hear you cry . . . 

Well unless we can afford to buddy-up to Bezos or Musk [sic] and get ourselves cryogenically frozen and aboard the next ship outta here, then there's no hope. 

Remember "SPACE!" is currently being monetised and besides, can you imagine a generation of baby-boomers in space? All those weightless Zimmers and broken bones, and not only that, I can't really imagine nipping into a Jessops for a roll of HP5+ when you're orbiting PA-99-N2 and persuading your team mates that you really need that last supply of Java to make some Caffenol . . .

So if we're stuck here, dealing with two finite resources (cameras and film) then surely the logical thing would be for people to be able to afford both and keep the ball rolling.

Of course all this pontificating on my behalf will change nothing.

I know for certain that I will never pop my clogs with a Rollei 2.8F in my hands, or an Alpa, or an Ebony View, or a Linhof 617, the way things are going even the more modest machines are being priced way beyond the reach of most people.

Some Hasselblads are now nearly 150-200% more expensive than they were even a few years back.

And that's not just Ebay . . . dealers, we really are watching you.

What a fucking shame.

Some serious thinking needs to be done on this. 

Remember it is no longer the 1970's or even the '80's. 

Nothing is a surety any more - when it is gone it really is gone.

So, to all you enthusiasts out there, I salute you and your wallets - hope you can find (or have found) something affordable to fall in love with and more importantly can afford to feed your passion.

Please start talking about this.

I agree profits have to be made by everyone, that is after all the world we've sewn ourselves into, but there's no need for the way things are going.

Over and out.

We are going to be landing in a few minutes.

Please ensure the following are firmly fixed:

Seat Belts

Teeth

Eyeballs

Za_0g*)!is handing out sick bags.

Please ensure you know how to use one correctly.

Message from Herman:

I put the above thinking down to reading too many apocalyptic SF books when I was a youngster - it sets your brain in survival mode, and you have to think everything through down the line - in other words try and figure out all scenarios and the cost is just one of them. 

Regular readers will have spotted, the pics aren't square. That's right, they're 645 from an A16 back. Lens was a (cough cough, looks at shoes, cough) newly acquired 40mm Distagon. I sold some old guitar stuff and afforded it that way - it was a good price, and is a heck of a lens. Not quite the same as a Biogon - more modern looking - but certainly incredibly sharp and (more to the point) easier to compose with.

Over and oot.

H xx