Ruuuufff - The Dog's Dinner Session

Firstly, can I say that if you've received this on your phone, please scroll down to the "Posted by . . " link at the bottom - and tap that - opens it up in full Technicolor.

Morning folks - a curious title I know, but in a month where I've been busier than I could imagine I should have been (if that makes sense) and an impending showing at the DCA forum at the end of last month . . . something had to give . . so it was a mighty trawl through some old negatives and a bunch of them printed on 6x4" Portfolio at an image size of 7x7cm.

Now it really does seem perverse to be taking a sublime image-making machine like a Hasselblad or a TLR Mamiya and printing something that is only a little bigger than a contact print . . . but hey-ho, it was an experiment, didn't cost too much in materials and was fun (and more importantly QUICK) to do.

Printing small has a lot of advantages, both in time, chemicals and (in my case) ease of moving the print about in the darkroom - as regulars might remember, my darkroom space . . well, you couldn't actually swing a cat in it, but I can print up to 9.5x12" without too much trouble. 

Anything bigger is almost impossible, so small prints get the job done comfortably.

Anyway, these 'ere Medium Format Postcards (MFPs as they're known around here) - the first thing that needed to be addressed was column height! 

Using a standard (for 6x6cm) 80mm lens was going to do two things - firstly give me a crick in the neck and secondly, not allow enough space to get a focus magnifier onto the easel.

The Micromega just fitted . . Paterson Minor . . nope.

Actually printing so small also reached the bellows extension limit of the DeVere too. 

Who'd have thought it! 

So, I switched up to the 135mm Vivitar VHE (100mm was too low still and 150mm gave me enormous amounts of extra light flying around on the easel, so 135mm it was.)

The easel by the way is my original (and first iteration) of a RR Beard 10x12". 

It was well used when I got it and it's been even more weller used by me - they're amazingly robust things and you can straighten the blades with not too much trouble if they've got off-kilter, which is admittedly rare.

It might not surprise you to learn I've actually got far too many easels:

Oh really? Now that is a surprise!

Namely FOUR (yes, I surprised myself there too) Beards; a Leitz; a Durst; an LPL  . . . and that one I wrote about last year, the Agimask. 

That's a bit mad really, but I suppose you never know when you might drop and misalign one of them, do you?

Of them all, the bests (by a country mile) are the Beards. 

I actually could do with a newer 10x12 Beard as my others are 16x12's and seeing as I can only manage up to 9.5 x 12" then they do seem to be a little overkill, however needs must, two were purchased and two were gifts from old darkroom codgers.

 

The humble easel is actually (IMHO) one of the most important parts of the enlarging process (along with a properly aligned enlarger). 

At college cos the easels that were available were all misaligned and so on, I actually used to use masking tape to hold the paper down.

It was actually pretty OK at doing that - the medium weight Kentmere was straight with little curl and the tape enabled me to maximise the size of the paper.

When they were dried, the good ones were dry-mounted and trimmed. 

Dry mounting gave a lot of gravitas to an image, even though these days it is regarded as archivally unsound.

I've heard good things about using t-shirt presses for straightening fibre prints and I am probably going to go down that route.

Anyway, back to Beard-stroking - when I set up my own darkroom, I thought back, realised that masking tape wasn't such a good thing and that heartbreak and wasted paper would ensue.

Scenario: your best bit of printing ever scuppered, mid-exposure, when the masking tape frees itself from the baseboard and the paper inevitably curls upwards . . . ah the blue air!

So I knuckled down and bought a Beard.

I soon realised what I had been missing.

Anyway, enuff of that old nonsense . . here's wot said pics look like. 

Did your Aunty Maeve and Uncle Tony send you a postcard back from Torremolinos? 

Well they're the same size as that - 6x4" or 10x15cm if you're a post-'65/73 sort of person.

Yes, I entirely agree with you - there's a lot of wasted paper . . and it ain't half expensive . . 

However, as a wee object you can take into the playground and use for swapsies at playtime, they work quite well.

Look at the curl though . . . and that's them flattened under three tons of angle-iron for two weeks.

Ah, the golden days when you could get around the backside of Duncan Of Jordanstone College Of Art and see what the crazee kidz had been up to . . . 

Nothing more than a demonic face on a wall and a bed/bath . .  of course.

This area has now sadly been fenced off . . btards.

An incredibly bright day and I

 was perched over my camera in the middle of a slow-running burn catching the reflected light on the overhanging rock. 

There was something about it that was incredibly appealing, but I think I failed to catch the delicacy.

My friend Neil did it so much better than me.

Edge of the dole office in Dundee's Wellgate . . . one of the most salubrious buildings in a run-down city centre that could be considered to be very salubrious these days. 

It's a real shame. 

I remember the place as lively, filled with shops and happy shoppers and a lot less graffiti.

This self-same window has now been turned into a free-floating It's The Arts window, showcasing local designers . . and quite right too.

I can see two or three faces in that window . . can you?

A famous staircase.

I have to state fairly categorically that I think I might have been the original person to photograph it in an architectural style.

Now every bleeder on the numerous city photowalks do/does . . .

Och well, so long as they don't copy my DANCE COMMANDER outfit, I am alright . . . (look that up on You Tube - it's a cracking song by The Electric Six.)

One of the Perth Road lanes - the house has always struck me as looking haunted.

In truth it's a student warren, so it's probably haunted by the ghosts of hangovers and kebabs.

It's a pretty mucky lane too, so watch out for that dog shite . . .

Wait a minute . . . are you sure you get dogs that big?

I couldn't believe my luck - there I was with (I think) the 500 C/M and 250mm Sonnar and no tripod, and I managed to capture a Wild F.

It was obviously just resting before heading North to it's natural nesting grounds in the Grampians.

You'll often hear one in the quiet of the glens:

 

"Who put that f-ing boulder there?"

"Ah, f!, I forgot my toilet paper!"

You get the gist.

I was once up a cold and lonely mountain in a heavy mist - it was wonderful and quiet, and the next thing I heard was what sounded like a billion teenage boys have a jostley fight.

In reality it was two middle-aged men with MLT (Mid-Life Tourettes) - their language was completely unbound to say the least.

Anyway, I hope the Wild F found its nest and a mate.

Quick, someone give Hamza a c

all!

Ah, dontcha just love a good bit of plastic adorning a lovely Cherry tree in Winter?

Although I've said Cherry tree, I am not so sure in hindsight. 

It IS a tree.

What I do know is that said tree has grown wild in an area of Dundee's Docks.

Not the proper docks, cos you can't get into them anymore (just in case you get up to some monkey business) no, it's a bit beyond them by The Grassy Beach.

That is local terminology . . and very old - kids from the deprived inner city areas used to go there for their holidays . . it's only a couple of miles away from the centre too!

The area actually is right next to the point of land where the young Mary Shelley used to watch the port (and indeed whaling fleet) of the city at the time and slowly started formulating ideas about the Modern Prometheus . . look it up - it is well documented.

Sadly Pedro Almodóvar was not seen enjoying an amazing curry at The Tay View . . . 

I think most Ferryites (people from Broughty Ferry) disown this bit of coast as it's too common.

Anyway, sidetracked again - it's a weird area - there's loads of scrub, trees, brambles, grass and underneath it all, showing through quite clearly in places, the remains of an old tarmacked carpark, still resplendent with lines and spaces.

The tree is a decent size so has presumably been growing wild for at least 25/30 years. 

Woohoo - go TREES!

I think the picture is very Zen and somehow the plastic reminds me of the gauze adhering to Mick's face on the cover of The Rolling Stones' 'Under The Covers' album.

Sadly, this isn't gauze, but solid sheet plastic and kind of indicative of the shithole we're making of our wonderful planet.

And that as they say is that. 

All prints were toned in Selenium too and on the whole I think it was a worthy exercise.

Whether I could continue producing at such a small size I am not sure - seems to be quite wasteful.

And I am even thinking now that given the massive extra cost of Portfolio over normal MGFB, I might just put up with some curly prints!

Till the next time . . watch out for the MLT

H xx

The Oldie

 

Morning folks - this is as brief as those mustard yellow Y-fronts you used to have to wear back in the 1970's.

Sometimes, light, film, developer, paper and of course camera and even emotions, conspire to give you something to which you can honestly say:

"I love this."

And that's what happened with the above.

It was early on a Winter's day, and I pulled up at my favourite place for seascapes, donned my wellies and headed off down to the beach. 

Leading up to my trip there'd been a couple of weeks of incredibly stormy weather, and as such the sea was all of a lather. 

Literally. 

I was knee deep in sticky (yes, sticky, had to be removed by hand and wouldn't just fall off) foam in places  - I've never seen anything like it, but a dog walker I met said I should have seen it the week before, when the entire cut (a small gorge with about 150 feet of descent) down to the beach was filled with foam. She couldn't get anywhere near the surf.

That must have been something else.

Anyway, a slippin' and a slidin' over foam on top of unsure footing and really slippy rocks made for an unnerving experience . . more about that at the end ***

The camera was the Hasselblad SWC/M; film was Kodak 400 TX rated at EI 200. 

I've always felt this form of Tri-X needs a lot more exposure than people say and 200 does it for me.

It's a definite weird one developed in Rodinal (sic - in this case Fomadon R09 at 1+75) because it really looks like you've overcooked the negatives (on my times) and yet they print easily and beautifully . . .

It really is quite strange.

Oh and the mistiness in the distance is actually sea spray as I neglected to say it was blowing a gale and I was sheltered behind a massive sea stack.

Being in such situations quite often brings a joy to my heart - no longer do I feel the post-Covid arthritis or self-inflicted need to really get that decorating done, no, I am more in mind of Joni Mitchell's lyrics to 'Free Man In Paris':

I was a free man in Paris

I felt unfettered and alive

Not that I ever feel fettered in everyday life, but I dunno, I suppose, when it is just you, the camera and the elements, there's a sort of subconscious attunement with the moment. 

You decide what you're photographing, how you're interpreting it (both visually and emotionally) and ultimately, in the case of film photography, you're the master of your own ship - it's up to you whether the ship (the negative) is a fine one on a well charted course, or founders on those rocks over there (OK, that really is flowery, 6th form English for:

 "Oh shit, I've just used the fix instead of the developer"

It's good for the soul to be able to deeply concentrate for these periods of time - I typically take 2 hours to take 12 photographs and it really is like 2 hours with the Maharishi.

And that's about it really. 

The image is a scan off a print made on Ilford Portfolio at Grade 3. 

I love the tonality of it - it's not too contrasty, and there's a good balance of mids and darks - it reminds me of some of my favourite landscape photographs from decades ago.

The print is actually slightly cropped from the negative, cos, ahem, with the SWC/M, the lens is so wide that sometimes you unwittingly (read, stupid twat) include a bit of the tripod leg, or even your (ahem) foot.

It was exposed on my DeVere 504, using a 135mm Vivitar VHE lens and RRB easel.

When the print emerged from the developer (not literally like The Creature From The Black Lagoon, no, you know it emerged, appeared in all its glory on t'paper in t'developer), I was still stuck with some too bright surf in the distance, so I turned the print over (emulsion side face down and still immersed in the developer tray) turned out the safelights and left it for around 5-6 minutes. 

It's not an exacting science, but it really does bring those:

Borrocks-I've-not-given-it-enough-burn-in

white bits out nicely.

 

You can thank Ralph Gibson for that one.

The print was developed in Foma Fomatol LQN developer (at normal dilution - a slow working but fine developer with a slight increase in image warmth); stopped in Kodak stop; fixed with Fotospeed FX20 Rapid Fixer (very reasonably priced and exceptionally reliable) and finally toned with Bellini Seltone Selenium toner, which I am now finding to be a decent replacement for Kodak.

And that's it - jings that elastic is really chaffing.

Till next time, take care and just keep being yourself.

H xx

*** Op-tech stretchy neoprene tripod strap purchased - makes all the difference as now I can carry a walking pole as well for some extra sure footing.

I actually use a fair number of Op-tech things from their pro-straps for the heavy gear, though their lighter duty straps. 

All brilliantly made and highly recommended.

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