The Harsh Realties Of The Fine Print In This Day And Age

Good morning folks - hope you are well - 10-15 minute read warning!

This is quite a long piece so feel free to scroll off somewhere else  - I really don't mind and it is probably of little interest to anyone who doesn't use a darkroom.

Right, this was written over a couple of weeks and from an increasingly angry point of view (nothing to do with age, just economic sensibilities and pre all the bombs, madness and megalomania) . . . 

An honest opinion?

Let's face it folks - as a traditional printer in this day and age, you're Farquahar'd. 

Or to put it in proper Scots . . You're On A Hiding To Nowhere.

There, I've said it, but before I get into the economics, here's a little snapshot of what set me thinking.

I would say I am a fairly experienced printer . . . but some days IT comes along and IT really doesn't want you to do anything except waste your precious paper and get frustrated; last week being a case in point.

 

I've got a box of 100 sheets of Fomabrom Variant III 10x8" and I felt I should really use it, rather than it just sitting there (after all it cost about £120 UK Pounds - not an inconsiderable amount of money.) 

I'd already used a few sheets and wanted to print some more before I decided what paper I was going to stock-up on - more on this later.

Anyway,  I did my usual, which is, cut up a sheet of THE SAME PAPER IN 5x7" SIZE for test prints . . did a test print . . assessed my exposure . . decided to make a proper print of it; got out a 10x8" SHEET OF THE SAME PAPER and gave it the same exposure and guess what?

The print looked nothing like the test print.

The air was blue to say the least (and no I hadn't moved the head or the easel, it was all exactly the same) so I got one of the £1.20 10x8" sheets of THE SAME PAPER and cut it up into test strip size pieces (it bugs the heck out of me every time I have to do that) did some more tests, made a print and again nothing was playing ball at all . . 

So (approximately 2 hours in on the same print) I had used (read wasted) FIVE sheets of paper - £6 worth . . . just like that.

I wouldn't mind if it was my mistakes . . OK I did make some . . . but it was the inconsistency of the paper (and being unable to speed match Grades) that made me realise I'd never use Foma Variant glossy again. 

Time and energy are precious . . life is just too short!

Reading back through some notes recently, I had written (when I first got the box of 10 x 8"):

".. strangely, feel the emulsion on the 5x7 variation of Variant is slightly different - a bit more contrasty, but also with more of a lift to the highlights too if that makes sense. - the matt though seems to be fine."

The question is, it's a paper beloved by many people, so how can it have gone wrong? 

Am I making big mistakes and looking for an easy out? 

Possibly. 

All I know is that in the olden days (and a lot less experience remember) using the likes of Agfa and Adox and Forte paper, my results were pretty consistent.

When I opened this box of Variant the first few sheets came out (when I developed them) with a heavy line of edge fog . . 

I wrote to Foma and received no reply . . 

Could this just be a dodgy box? 

Well if it is, then it's a bloody expensive way of proving QC issues isn't it.

And so, to that end, I have finally been driven into the corner I predicted years back - I am now pretty much solely an Ilford MGFB/Ilford Portfolio user.

One more nail in the coffin.

I have another confession to make - at times, I can be a pretty appalling printer, stuck in my own rut of what I think is a good print and also the best way to achieve it. 

My training back in the 1980's was from Joseph McKenzie - a fine printer (indeed some would say Scotland's finest printer) so it was a good grounding . . . but the thing is, you have to place Joe in the times in which he worked. 

Photography was big business then; darkrooms were rife; hobbyists printed till they were blue in the face, but 'pre' the wide-scale use of decent multigrades (Yes Simpkins, I know it was introduced in 1940!) a huge amount of work was done on Graded papers. 

As I've discussed here before a Graded paper was a very different beast to a Multigrade. 

I say WAS because as far as I am aware, there's no longer any Graded available, or else if it is listed it is out of stock/production, so, I think I can safely say, we're in a Multigrade world.

Anyway, that's away from the point. Joe McK. kind of insisted we all learn on Grade 2 Kentmere Bromide, or Kenthene RC. 

For fine work it was Grade 2 Ilford Galerie, (or Grade 3 at a pinch) though weirdly Galerie 2 was very flexible as a paper, capable of giving that crisp highlight detail so much more obvious with using a Grade 3 or even 4 on MG.

As such, 'modern' techniques like split grade printing, were never even mentioned. 

The printing was basic, but solid. 

Hands for dodging and burning; timing by marching elephants in your head; judicious toning; spotting if necessary; dry mounting at the end.

In other words, what most of the world of 'fine art' printers had been using for decades.

As far as I remember, MG was very much seen as the amateur paper (I think Joe regarded it as such at the time) - I could be wrong and would love to be told so, however for the purpose of this blog, I'll state that as a salient fact.

Anyway time machine forwards 40 years - Split Grade; Flashing; Warm Tone MG; Cool Tone MG; MG; F-stop timers; Platinum and Palladium being seen as a relatively attainable process; Cyanotypes and indeed all the 'Types' as quaint things one can do with that art class certificate you got for your birthday . . .

There's no more dry mounting; everything is archival this that and the other - in other words, as little physical interference with the print post-drying as possible.

It's an entirely changed world, but the old world was a world I was used to and as such have rather doggedly (and typical for me) stuck to my guns and continued in my own rut.

I dodge and burn with my hands; use room temperature chemicals and a knackered old Paterson print washer - my one luxury is the superb timer on the DeVere. 

I develop, stop, double fix, wash, tone, hypo clear and air dry. 

The lovingly crafted prints then get assessed.

Most months they come along with me to my beloved DCA Forum; they get looked at; mumbled over ( I am the ONLY traditional printer in a collection of 20+ people most months); talked about with me on-hand or talked about with me not to-hand to explain why I've presented yet another set of essentially the same pictures!

Then they get filed away, never to see the light of day again.

The thing is, I am proud of these prints. 

In this day and age when it is no longer clear whether anyone that eats and breathes has anything to do with what they are claiming they've done, they're as solid as month-old porridge. 

I have the negatives. 

I have the prints.

They match each other and as such they're proof of a little humanoid effort in creating what could loosely be classified as "art".

But we're dying.

We really are.

Rapidly.

Yeah sure, I see young bucks shooting a trillion rolls of Harman Red every month, with very nice results, but to a man, they are not printing!

Even the most enthused seem to be only using MGRC or Kentmere. NONE OF THEM have used fibre.

So who is using MGFB or MGFB Warmtone, or indeed Portfolio? 

And especially in the largest sizes?

The reason stated by said young bucks, is often cost.

 

Photography is like being a crack addict . . yeah the buzz from that first hit (the wonderful negatives you got from using your vintage Nikon [sic] is incredible, but it is only half the story.)

As I've said many times before, film photography is a game of two halves - I've always felt that in order to balance the excitement of the taking and developing stage, you really do need the craft side of the printing stage as a balance.

But you see, the first half is so addictive - who gives a fig about spending £11 on a roll of 120 TX 400 when it is the really exciting part?

Who really wants to spend more than 70 UK pence on a sheet of 10x8" paper when the results look so-so?

If it was say 40-50p a sheet, people would probably use more, learn better craft skills and in the end (if they felt serious enough about it) actually spend approximately 150 to 200 UK Pounds on a box of fine paper.

My Mum always used to say: "you can't make an omelette without breaking any eggs."

And she had a point. 

CRAFT SKILLS, which I'm sure you'll agree are the backbone of darkroom printing, need to be developed and nurtured.

Let's put it this way, your child likes drawing and painting, but you're not going to start them on charcoal or oils are you. 

Nope, it's poster paints, felt tip pens, HB pencils and lots of cheapish paper.

It's the same with darkroom printing.

You start out on a cheapish paper, which at the current time (February 2026) is approximately £80+ for a box of 100 sheets of Ilford MGRC (or £65 for the Fotospeed equivalent/£70 for the Kentmere equivalent) and that in the UK is about it!

Then you think, maybe we should progress onto fibre . . .well (2026 prices):

Foma Variant - £130 for 100 sheets of 8x10"

Ilford MGFB - £133 for 100 sheets of 8x10"

Ilford MGFB Warmtone - £170 for 100 sheets of 8x10"

And that's it:

"Wait a minute Simpkins, what's that? You HATE all that quaver-like curliness of FB paper and you want something thick and substantial, rather like a foot-long Sub?

Well here y'go:"

Ilford Portfolio - a premium, RC paper and really wonderful stuff:

Ilford Portfolio - £180 (approx. [and if you can actually find somewhere that stocks it]) for 100 sheets of 8x10"

Factor into this, the cost of chemicals (not cheap and strangely quite inconsistent these days - I've had PQ Universal go bad on me very quickly indeed - not like the glory days of Agfa NE which lasted for well over a year when opened.)

You also have to factor in the cost of setting up a darkroom (admittedly cheaper than it used to be); the space in the family home, or renting a darkroom from an arts facility, and it is no wonder printing is dying.

But I genuinely believe that the eye-watering price of paper has a lot to do with it. And if I (as a committed darkroom printer) am thinking that, then who else is?

There always used to be a thing in retail (I worked in it for nearly 40 years so should know what I am talking about) called "London Pricing". 

What we meant by that, is that things in the nether-regions of the country were priced more like they were in London. 

Hang your heads in shame for instance Oxfam book shops (your stock costs are nothing . . . and you even get paid for the books that go to be shredded because they're unsaleable)

Photographic paper (and indeed most things in traditional darkroom and film-based photography) are currently on London Pricing.

The thing is, the rest of the UK isn't London and doesn't earn the same wages as those in London and as such are finding it effing difficult to continue.

Did you know that Ilford's FP4+ has risen by £1.50 in the past 6 months?

Oh that's not much, I hear you say, but they've turned an item which was reasonable (sic) at £6.50 into something you have to think twice about and if I am thinking twice about it . . well, worraboot the young 'uns?

Who out of younger enthusiasts (with all the costs associated with younger to middle life) can afford the materials with which they may further their craft?

I know I couldn't have at their age and with all those pressures.

Process Supplies recently said to me that paper sales were "bouyant" . . but yeah, that's London . . . 

I genuinely cannot see a way forward.

Certainly it is an expensive world, but remember to most people PHOTOGRAPHY IS A HOBBY. 

Not a business. 

Let me state that again, PHOTOGRAPHY IS A HOBBY. 

A pleasurable thing to while away time and in the meantime bring some heart-felt joy and pleasure to your life. 

But if the shit hits the fan and you have to trim costs, your hobbies are the first things to go.

In a world fuelled by nutters, inflation and uncertainty, how much longer can you afford to sustain a hobby that you could easily spend a hundred-plus quid on every month?

As a guitar player for over 50 years I have seen the costs of that hobby rise exhorbitatntly on things like amplifiers, and yet decent guitars are realtively cheaper than they ever were. 

Back in the 1980's I used to spend about £3.50 on packs of GHS Boomer strings coz they were proper metal . . . 

Today, I can buy a 6 pack of those self-same strings for £24 or approximately £4 a set . . 

THAT is the sort of inflation photography materials should be experiencing. 

Certainly film contains silver and with the uncertainty caused by various madmen that will continue to rise and cause much pain to the likes of you and me. 

But wait a minute, GHS Boomers are a product made with nickel and steel, surely they've been affected by inflation and production costs too . . 

And wait a minute, they're MADE IN THE USA too with reciprocal tariffs, duty, shipping and so-on . . . 

So WHAT GIVES?

The German company Thomann can sell you a very decent (better than the starter instruments of my day) electric guitar for £78 shipped. 

It is made in the Far East.

My recently deceased friend, the wonderful bass player (and skilled luthier) Chic Black bought Harley Benton basses claiming they were easily the equal of or better than his 1970's Rickenbackers . . . .  they just needed a tweak. 

His '75 Rickenbacker 4001: "A playable instrument only made better by extensive work." 

His Harley Benton 6 string Bass:  "An extremely playable instrument only made better by maybe changing the pickups."

So if they can do it, why can't Harman/Ilford?

Is it possibly something to do with effectively being a monopoly?

Hmmmm . . . . .

But, as I have said before, with costs rocketing, how much longer can we go on?

If you're a traditionaist like me, I urge you - stock up, keep it cool - paper and film. 

Powder chemicals and bulbs. 

Spare everything, because it is quite likely in the next 20 years that cost vs. sales, will take out the whole area of traditional darkroom-based photography and you will be as dead as a dodo. 

And as lost (well certainly that would be my case).

Friend Bruce from The Online Darkroom saw the writing on the wall a number of years back and has been channelling his excellent printing skills into inkjet and coming away with prints that would not be amiss in a gallery . . but even then he's caught between a rock and a hard place, because he's using really old software . . all it takes is a new OS and you could well be gubbed and having to take it back to basics again.

It really is a harsh world for the photographic enthusiast - GOOD LUCK OUT THERE!

Anyway, today's prints - all scans off of Ilford Portfolio - I was going to scan the Foma ones but they looked crap. 

The camera was a Mamiya C330F with 80mm lens. 

Film is Kodak 400TX developed in 1+75 Fomadon R09.

It has a very nice tonality.

They are all from my (now quite large) collection of seascapes. 

I like it - I find both taking the pictures and printing them quite calming.

I also enjoyed being alone and about 1.5 metres below the High Tide line, which is where I was in the above photographs.

You would think I would learn!

Actually I did. I bought an Optech Tripod strap - absolutely brilliant because now it means I can explore places like the above with a walking pole and wellies - those rocks aren't half slippy at times. I no longer have to worry about trying to use the tripod as a walking pole, because it's not very good for such things.

Anyway, that's that, you can wake up now.

Till the next time, take care, be safe and keep taking the brown M&Ms.

H xx

Solid Air

Morning folks - and a very belated Happy New Year to you all - I hope it brings you all you want it to bring you.

For myself, it is a determination to continue as long as I can, still using film and printing in a darkroom on paper. 

It's a solid ground to me, something I know; I feel as you get older it's really important to have a grounding in something, because before you know it you'll be off yer trolley with dementia. 

This being said there's a lot to be said for learning new things too, obviously, but solidly grounding yourself in something you love, well maybe that's a really good thing . . .

The brief 40 minutes contained in these photographs is the result of a feverish session just as the tide was on the turn and as everything was changing from a ghastly, morose overcastness to a beautiful midwinter light that took ones breath away.

It had a wonderful turning point feel to it - a new day dawning; a new tide expected; maybe a new way of approaching things from myself. 

There was definitely something in the air.

Call it fanciful if you like, but I've spent a lot of my life photographing around small changes in atmosphere and I think I've become quite sensitive to them. 

On the other hand, maybe it's just the case of . . . stick a human in a place whereby they're confronted with the power of nature and they're always going to feel something.

That's probably the case . . . whatever (he said with a flick of the head so that his 90's fringe flicked back over his eyes . . )

I formly believe that landscape photography needs to be attuned to atmosphere first and foremost. There's far too much of the grand view style of things for my liking. 

You know me, I prefer to limit my horizons and work in close to detail and try to scoop up some of that atmos too.

Anyway, I'll keep it brief - they're all tripod shots from a Hasselblad 500C/M with a 40mm f4 Distagon fitted. 

It's a lovely lens and takes a very nice photo. 

Film was Ilford FP4 (rated at Ei 80) developed in my usual Fomadon R09 at 1+75 for 9:30 sec . .  it's as simple as that.

I was really fascinated by the hectic (and often violent) movement of the tide juxtaposed against the stillness and immovability of the rocks. 

Most of the 'paper white' stuff you see is actually tide movement.

There was no need for a ND filter as (operating in low Winter light and massive rock shadow) reciprocity tables took care of the longer side of things   - most of the exposures were between 5 and 50 seconds . . . 

In such cases a sturdy tripod is necessary, especially when the tide is comin' atcha.

And that's about it really - the images are scans off the prints made by me on Ilford Multigrade Fibre paper in my wee darkroom. 

The prints are archival, being double fixed and selenium toned and thoroughly washed, so they should outlast what years I have left (unless they get chucked in a skip of course).

Not sure what it has been like where you live, but we've had such a lack of sunlight over here that going out and trying to photograph anything has been largely impossible . . here's hoping Spring brings us something sweeter and brighter.

Till the next time, try not to scratch that itchy bit too much.

H xx

On Solid Ground (The New New Monkey Business)

This post was brought to you by © NDPC Photography.

(Just in case you're wondering: No Drone, Phone or Clone)

“. . . but that’s why we’re photographers. We’re preservationists by nature. We take pictures to stop time and to commit moments to eternity. Human nature made tangible.”

Ben Ryder (Ed Harris) Kodachrome.

Friend and longtime reader (and great photographer and printer) Omar Özenir recently said something in a comment to me (on one of his posts) that struck home - I'm sure he won't mind if I quote him:

"Over at Photrio someone recommended the name "Promptography" for AI-photography, which I find quite apt. But God knows where this will all lead. I've read about a kickstarter camera that will apply AI at the taking stage, and not in the way that the iPhone does it with it's computational algorithms (I hate those iPhone clouds . . . afaik it started with the iPhone 13 . . . clouds get by default a contrast boost), but for example you take a picture that contains a glass full with liquid and you can order the camera/AI to render it as an empty glass! In my view there has to be a backlash to all this shit, a return to some kind of analogue engagement."

Before I go any further, you should really subscribe to Omar's blog 'Intermittent Agitation' - you can find it here:

https://omozfot.blogspot.com/

Anyway, as is always the case with me, I tend to let stuff distill within and then write.

It occured to me (in line with Omar's comment and the Ed Harris quote at the top of the page) that a hobby has largely been rendered null and void by technology. 

Granted, you can say the same thing happened in the transitioning from wet plate to 'dry' film; from straight renditions of scenes to multiple exposures and composite printing and photograms; from 'traditional' darkroom printing to photoshop, but to my mind, the move from human-based interaction with a scene/subject/moment to machine-prompt "perfection" before anything (or even after something does) happen(s) kind of misses the whole point. 

To-wit:

If everything is "perfect" all the time (even before you've started) why continue?

Perfection can come in many forms.

Decades back, after years of struggling with not-bad but not brill guitars, I came into some money and ordered a custom-made Paul Reed Smith Custom 24, direct from the old factory. 

None of this whammy bar stuff for me - I was a traditionalist and only wanted a tune-o-matic bridge and stop tailpiece a la A Les Paul. 

And I got it in spades, with an exquisite guitar (all Honduran Mahogany, Tiger-stripe Maple and Brazilian Rosewood) that sang like a bird, played like a dream and was, in short, utter perfection. 

I played it night and day. 

And then a strange thing occurred. 

In roughly 1995 I stopped playing entirely and didn't actually play my guitar again until required to (to teach someone) in the early/mid 2000's. 

Now obviously life-circumstances came into play (we had a young family, work, houses to deal with etc etc) but I've often thought about that, and actually came to the conclusion that skill-wise and sonically (and especially on the art-interface [the guitar]) there was nowhere else to go. 

I'd reached GUITAR NIRVANA. 

I couldn't play any better or faster (this was early technical metal for want of a better term); my band had fallen apart when the singer left and I had got to a point where things were no longer a struggle and actually seemed rather pointless.

And you know what folks - I almost feel the same thing is happening again, but on a far broader scale than a wee guy in a room shredding like there was no tomorrow. 

If you can produce "perfection" just like that, why waste your time in search of it?

Why not just describe to your Ai that you would like a seaside scene in the manner of Martin Parr; or a wondrous landscape from the deep wilds like Ansel; or maybe something a bit quirkier, how about a set of Parisian street scenes a la Lee Friedlander ? 

Why not go the whole hog and produce an entirely new set of lost Viv Maier prints?

Do you get my drift? 

There's no longer any empetus to get out there and try and find things your way - sure you might try to emulate your heroes, but you will never be them. 

To a guitarist, it's like being the greatest technician ever and being able to reproduce every incredible solo that, say, Alan Holdsworth ever made, but you'll never be him.

Not only that, and more to the point (and I'll get to this later) who can you trust? 

Is that really a Stephen Shore 10x8 from the 1970's that you've never seen before? 

Did Henri really photograph the devastation of 9/11 but just never told anybody? 

Was Edward Weston really involved in the R&D of the Kodak Instamatic? 

If the online pictures for all of those exist, they must have . . .

Sure a good image is a good image, but in a world awash with good images (technically perfect, all 1's and 0's) who is to say that a human had any part in the (for want of a better phrase, ON SITE) making of that image?

Is it just the crazed world view of A DESCRIPTOR?

In the words of the old tape advert:

"Is it real, or is it Memorex?"

In the words of the Ed Harris quote:

"We take pictures to stop time and to commit moments to eternity. Human nature made tangible."

So where is the humanity in a described image? 

With no interaction between the person at the coalface and the ongoing moment, where is the soul of the photograph?

I know this sounds like art-speak bullshit, but I've always felt a photograph is an interaction between two things - the taker and the subject.

Birthdays are the same - everyone remembers the child, but who remembers the struggles of the Mother to bring that child into the world? I always raise a glass to my Mum on my birthday.

As a photographer, I try to be mindful and thankful for the fall of light and compositional elements within the frame. In other words, my photographs are as much me as they are the subject.

If all that is involved in a scene is a description of that scene, or a cutting out or adding of elements to that scene, then can that really be called a photograph, in that a photograph by its very nature is a stopping of time.

I know a lot of this is philosophical ranting, but as I've said before Fogblog is my fiefdom and I can really do what I want within it.

No doubt there will be many disagreements, but hey-ho, Merry Christmas!

On a further spaceship cruising somewhere in the beyond . . . music!

I actually (contentiously) have a bit of a dislike for streaming services.

 

Why oh idiot from Yore? I hear you cry.

Well, the reason I like radio (GOOD RADIO - let me emphasise that) is that you'll often hear things you aren't that keen on.

That's a bit disingenuous isn't it - you're hoping to hear something you like, but you end up hearing a lot of things you don't like.

But in my weird brain, this can only be a good thing, because it forces you to adapt to new things. MANY times I've heard something on the radio and thought "what a load of shite" only for a number of years later (or even weeks or days later tbh)  to come around and think, Gosh I like that, and in that liking of something I was initially adverse too, I've opened up another door in my brain that makes me receptive to other 'new' things.

It is like Olives. I loathed them when I was young, but now, oh boy, sling me over a bunch of those big 'uns any day of the week. 

Eating and eventually loving something that initially my pallet thought was foul, opened a new world for me.

So where's this leading us, I hear you ask.

Well, if something only ever feeds you stuff you like all the time, where else is there to go?

If your streaming service only feeds you music based upon stuff you like, what are the chances of broadening your horizons with a hellacious racket that eventually becomes a part of you?

In other words, if you only like burgers, you're only going to look at things like burgers. 

As such, in ticking all the right boxes, your algorythmically-aligned vendor is only going to feed you stuff that's related to burgers.

Vegetables are out the window unless it's pickles. And even then . . . . stick some sauerkraut in the mix and you've lost your customer!

I understand it would be easy to turn around from that and say to me:

"But Ai is just another new thing . . give it time . .  you'll love it!"

Thing is, I don't really. It is very dangerous ground. As I have said multiple times over the years, too many apocalyptic SF books back in the 1970's has led me to the conclusion that this isn't going to end well.

It's already widely in use criminally, because someone left the sweetshop door open and whilst a bunch of kids are enjoying free Bazooka Joes' like there's no tomorrow, there's also a healthy bunch who are helping themselves to the cigarettes and have jimmied open the tills. 

In other words for all the sweetness and light (and hopelessly optimistic "tech will save us" brigade) there are as many elements of the really quite nasty side of human nature who have far more weapons in their arsenals than they had two years ago.

Pandora's Box has well and truly been opened.

In other words - tech companies only design for this golden world where everything is far too much like The Eloy in 'The Time Machine' - people flit about in the wispy clothes and kittens skip across sunlit meadows holding hands with laughing mice . . er . . was that that film? Can't remember, anyway and despite that, they're clueless and naiive to the point of utter stupidity.

"Is it real, or is it Memorex?"

I could go on all day, but you'll be getting tired, or have switched out already.

As I said to Omar:

"It is the imperfection of humans that makes everything more interesting - I hate the perfection of most digital stuff - the world isn't like that. It's funny that in these days of Ai-photography everything, the likes of you and I - both anachronisms in our use of darkroom printing - are starting to be seen as last outposts of human endeavour."

Yeah that's a hard one - are film, the physical negative and (perhaps most importantly) the darkroom print, actually the last bastion of traditional photography?

Are your digital files actually moments in time or described moments in time?

Can you prove you were there?

Did they actually have that look on their face?

Was she really surprised when that tiny gnome jumped out of the bushes?

Even more contentiously, are you A Photographer, or A Descriptor?

Anyway, hopefully this will be food for thought. To my mind we've blundered into something that hasn't been thoroughly thought through, but that has generated millions of cash prizes for the people who are in the right place at the right time..

I'll leave with some scans from physical darkroom prints, made by me on 9.5 x 12" Ilford Multigrade Fibre - the new New Monkey Business - lovely stuff. 

They're double-fixed, selenium toned and stored in Secol sleeves. 

They're as real as a sledgehammer to the nuts. 

The negatives (FP4+ developed in Fomadon R09) are real and stored in archival sleeves and boxes.

The only software interaction is a tiny bit of dust retouching from the bed of the scanner - not the print. Also, please note on the fourth one, the scanner has picked up the texture of the paper in a rather cack-handed way

They're as close to perfection as I can get, but they're my perfection and as such (as a "preservationist by nature") I feel an enormous need to continue along this route and try and leave some:

" . . . Human nature made tangible. . ."

That'll probably be the last lot of pictures from this location - you can find the place throughout my pictures from this year - I've done my usual thing and photographed the same place and even the same subjects multiple times. 

The camera was the loaned Mamiya RZ with 65mm f4 lens. 

All MLU and tripod too.

As a total aside, after I had taken these, I'd packed up, and was crossing some extremely slippy rocks when I lost my footing and in order to preserve someone else's camera hit the ground (broken large boulders - quite jaggy ones and water) with a hell of a crash. 

I thought I had split my shin wide open and refused to even look at the wound till I got home. 

It was like two hard-boiled eggs under the skin and the most almighty graze . . and it is still healing some 6 weeks later! 

I was very lucky.

You know, it has occured to me that I could have described these photographs to an Ai and got similar results, but then I wouldn't have the wound to prove it.

And that's it - till Next Year, take care, be good and keep taking the pills.

H xx

Just Me And The Crows

 

Morning folks - my initial title for this blog post was "R.Z. Smells", paraphrasing that old schoolboy book/author joke ("Young Person's Guide to Flatulence" by R.C. Smells) - it just seemed the right thing to do. But I eventually settled on the above which seemed more in keeping.

Actually, the RZ in question is a loaner, a Mamiya RZ - the earliest one. 

It is a genuinely lovely MF camera. 

Sure, it weighs more than 2 galaxies and is bulikier than the Bizmark, but it is surprisingly easy to use and if treated with a bit of time and respect, produces some excellent negatives.

This one nests in in a massive Peli case, with the 65mm, 100mm and 180mm lenses; three backs; auto prism finder; lens hood; two extension tubes and a spare WLF. 

The case full of gear weighs a ton, but you could probably park a baby elephant on it with no problems.

I redid all the seals in the backs as a favour for a friend, so I have been using it with confidence.

I've taken it out for a few trips recently and have found it best to work with it carried in a backpack and then firmly mounted on a tripod. 

The integrity of the lenses is such that you could easily use it handheld at wide apertures, but I'm a landscape sort of bloke and a camera like this works best for me on a tripod.

Initially I found the two cable release system (one for MLU [and on the lens barrel] and one for the shutter [in the standard place]) to be a pain in the articles, but once I was used to it, it was fine and in fact the lovely electronic shutter is a pleasure to both hear and use. 

The mirror is very good too - nicely damped and quite quiet - certainly nothing like my old Pentax 67, which was like trying to photograph using a violently struggling puppy.

This is the third 6x7 camera I have had a go with - the others (Pentax 67 and Koni Omega) gave excellent results, but were nothing like as satisfying (or easy) to use. 

I've also found the 65mm lens to be a very good match to the proportions of the 6x7 frame.

The film backs are wonderful - thoughtfully designed and simple to use.

Someone has obviously thought long and hard about this camera and its users and as such it is a thoroughly professional piece of design - I can wholeheartedly recommend it.

If you are in the market for a MF camera, I would say give it a go - it is a fine machine.

It was a semi-miserable morning when I parked up at a local Historic Scotland site (which I had been to before) and acted like a right yob, in scaling the lowish fence surrounding the whole building. Obviously the fence is there to discourage people like myself bopping about inside and causing trouble, but I am usually careful in such circumstances and am painfully aware of loose stonework. 

There's been a lot of tarting up done inside to what is a ruined abbey, including a fairly impressive oak bracing system for the 13th Century stonework. 

Massive growths of deep and unruly vegetation have been hacked back and sprayed, but despite this, there's still an atmosphere to it. 

One can put oneself back to the time when it was whole and intact. 

The light must have been awe-inspiring and reverential all at the same time. 

As Frederick Evans discovered with cathedrals, tall windows and holy airs make for wonder, peace and a contemplation of the great beyond.

It was lovely to be in such a place with zero visitors or even passers-by. Just me and the crows.

The photos aren't great and I put that down to me struggling to see quite what was going on - the 65mm is a f4 and it is a hell of a lot darker to view things through the VF than you would think. 

Allied to this, with just a general rangefinder spot on this particular screen, focusing and composition were challenging, not to say bloody dark in interiors (even with using a big torch to illuminate focus points.) 

Next time I take it out I am going to clearly demarcate the edges of the frame with masking tape on the VF.

There's also the dread converging verticals, but again, operating on a tripod at waist-height with a 65mm lens, what did I really expect. 

The thing is, I know that if I'd used the Superwide, things would have been very different. 

It probably really is the ideal camera for all things architectural - no focus to worry about, just judge it and then stop down a bit. The torpedo finder can get you into a very close approximation of the actual scene and is easier to use than a traditional VF. The bubble keeps you right, and the lens has little or no distortion - quite remarkable when you think about it.

I tihnk I might go back with it.

Anyway, the film was FP4+ rated at EI80. I developed it for my now standard time of 9 mins and 30 secs in 1+75 Fomadon R09 - as a combination they work very well together. The 1+75 dilution gives a very nice balance between sharpness and compensation - some of these exposures were between 4 and 60 seconds - as you can see there's little blow-out.

Anyway, without further ado, here's a few.

These are all scans from the prints made on  Ilford MG Fibre. 
After a long time of farting around, I have decided to standardise on it - why waste more time trying other options when it is pretty much the only reliable (and constantly AVAILABLE) option in fibre over here anyway.

They've all been archivally processed and selenium-toned . . none of your Ai stuff around here - the bot can't get down the step into the darkroom anyway.

They're printed quite somberly, such has been my mood recently with friends and relations dropping off their perches with a sad regularity.

Having seen so much stuff just skipped - both goods and chattles and artistic endeavours, one almost begins to wonder what the point in any creative pursuit is. 

It's even made me question keeping on with this 'ere blog, simply because (I wonder to myself) who the feck can be bothered reading - I've actually lost two subscribers in recent months which wounds like a dagger in the heart.

We shall see what the New Year brings - I almost feel like I have run out of things to say (gasp!). 

You never know though.

Anyway, the Mamiya RZ - in the words of Jam Kalawinski (you need to adopt a heavy Bolton accent to say this) "Very Nice!"

Christmas is a comin' up fast, so this is it for another year.

Take care, have a wonderfully festive time.

TTFN

H xx

Along Some Rivers

Morning folks - please excuse me for a pinchin' Robert Adams' book title, but I kind of thought it was appropriate.

It's amazing when you're travelling along some road - either well used or not - and you see a small gorge and think to yourself:

"I'd really like to explore that" 

but you rarely have the opportunity, because you're literally passing through (as it were.)

I was lucky enough last year to be staying somewhere where there was a nice wee under-bridge gorge just along the road and I explored and photographed it, and got a decent tick bite to boot! 

If you can help it, never cross a deer path is my sage advice . . oh and don't wear shorts in the Scottish countryside either!

I wrote about the gorge HERE

Anyway, the one I am writing about today is closer to home - just a few miles up the road actually and whilst it is close to a well-travelled road, it is as far removed from reality as possible. 

I have also written about it and shown the photographs before, however recently, doing some tidying up, I realised I'd done some further explorations with a few different cameras and had not shown the pictures - indeed they were stuffed into the side of one of my print drawers. 

(This year has been something else for other stuff going on, so I obviously just put them aside and promptly forgot.)

I do hope it isn't a sign of me approaching T.A.M. (That Alzheimer Moment) as I have recently done a few things that have surprised me including putting jars of instant coffee in the fridge and turning up to a dental appointment a week earlier than I should . . 

Anyway, back to the gorge. 

At some point in its life, it must have been a proper roaring one, indeed there's a small waterfall there that is called locally "The Devil's Cauldron". 

But sadly the force of water (which is actually an accumulation of a multitude of small burns running off the back of the Sidlaws) is now semi-stilled by a smallish loch and what does run down is beautiful, but hardly enough to put Hades out . . this is because at some point in the late Victorian era, it was dammed. 

No Simpkins, not DAMNED.

The dam (I presume) was to provide a regular and tamed water supply to the nearby local village . . but it also provided regulated water to a small fish farm which was built in the early 1900s.. 

The fish farm is long gone (sadly) but it's ditches and buildings and tanks remain and it was these and also the gorge that I explored over several journeys with impunity.

Who's Impunity? I'm not saying . . . .

I think they work well as a sort of series.

They were all photographed with the following:

Mamiya C330F with 80mm Blue Dot.

Hasselblad SWC/M.

Hasselblad 500 C/M with 40mm Distagon.

All images were taken with film (naturally - Ilford FP4 and SFX processed in 1+75 Fomadon) and printed initially on Foma fibre, Ilford MGFB and Ilford Portfolio and then latterly as a series on 5x7" Portfolio. 

Scanned on ye anciente Epson flatbed with no unmasking, debriefing or general shenanigans  

Processed and printed by me, back 'ere at Sheephouse Turrets.

It felt good to be in the darkroom printing this lot.

I've looked back and I don't seem to have published any of these, so go on, sit down, reach for that pint of foaming nut-brown meths and have a scroll.

To be honest, there's quite a number more I could have added, but I don't want you getting all bored and petulant, so I trimmed them. 

I quite like the transition from moody waterfall, to the stillness of a small pool - were I pharty, I could say it is an alegory and metaphor for my ageing . . but nah . . it's just a bunch of photographs that interested me.

Regular readers will know that I've been practicing some digital stuff recently . . well this lot is as firmly schooled in the old school as you can get - can you not smell the fixer coming off the screen?

Are there many people out there writing about printing?

Anyway, I am happy with them - they're especially nice to handle on Ilford's Portfolio (though this will still exhibit a curl depending on weather conditions) but it is a fine paper and Ilford should be bunging me some for the sheer amount of promotion I have given it 😃

And that's it   - a wee stop-gap, before I get out with some nice medium format cameras again.

Take care and remember people in glass houses shouldn't throw gnomes.

H xx