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

The Good, The Bad And The Fiddly

Morning - I hope everyone is keeping well and safe and greeting the shit-storm of a New Year with typical British stiff upper lip and a tough set to your shoulders. 

Ha, this is nothing like it was when I was a boy.

They used to beat us to bed in the dorm and we'd be awoken by a bugle call at 3.30am for a 16 mile run.

Then it was weights, a hose-down and just as the sun was beginning to rise a luverly runny egg for brekfast,

Cooo, gosh . . . . 

Eugh, gosh!

Made us Britons wot we are. 

None of your Jonny Forener muck round here, all that garlik and unyons and stuff.

Oh no, it's boyled beef, spuds, carots and grave from here on in.

Also just for this year, theres going to be extra reeding, more words, and, chiz, tests at the end.

Coo gosh.

Pleez Sir can we go home Sir . . . .

Anyway, you might recall that at the end of last year I said I was going to have a bash at using a Large Format camera again.

The Wista has been sitting in its rucksack for a few years and there was a likelihood I could punt it over the posts on the games field. 

I won't even mention the Sinar F which is currently safely packed away in a box in a chest in my study . . . no doubt plotting something Swiss.

It was all a bit daunting to be honest, but you know what, I had a go . . . and I enjoyed it too.

So carry on reading whilst your erstwhile blogger has a breakdown and rebuilds opinions as he types!

Haunted Lane

Y'see, whilst having a clear out, I found myself with a surfeit of well-expired 5x4 film - I'd always known it was there, but I just hadn't realised there was so much:

Delta 100 - 12 Sheets

TMX 400  - 7 Sheets

TXP320 - 30 Sheets

TMX 100 - 45 Sheets

So what do you do with so much film? 
Yes that's right - you use it! 

I also decided that rather than hang about in the dark for hours on end (if you're tray processing a sheet at a time, believe me there are better things to do) I would try and find a different developer that might  shorten processing time. 

Bruce from t'OD suggested Adox FX39II, so I gave it a go.

As you'll know, it is generally recommended practice when you footer photographically that you only try one thing at a time, just to see how you get on with it. 

You absolutely do not thow the baby out with the bathwater and change everything at once.

Not me though.

Oh no.

Why do anything by halves?

So:

New developer.

Well expired (2012 some of them) films.

A format I'd forgotten how to use, as the last exposures I had done were in 2016.

Cold weather - nothing better for testing the mettle of a proto-LF photographer.

PVD-affected eyesight, which makes a lot of things (like focusing!) more difficult than they could be.

Oh yes, I was ready . . . but before we get to the main monkey-business, here's some backfill. It's long and no doubt boring, so if you fancy a yawn or are in need of a good sleep, please read; if not just skip it all till you get to the bit that says:

You Can Carry On Now

A long time ago, when I first started taking Large Format photos, I threw myself into it.

I had a Sinar F (for Field, or for those of us who have actually used them in the field, F for Feck Me That Weighs A Fecking Ton!); a 150mm Symmar-S; the world's Biggest Tripod and Head (Linhof Twin-Shank and Gitzo SERIES 5); a Sinar loupe, and couple of nice Toyo DDS. 

Oh and Gumption. 

I carried it all neatly wrapped in a Tee-Shirt Dark cloth, packed in a Deuter 22 litre (!) rucksack, with the Dark Slides in a lunchbox.

Oh boy was I dedicated!

My initial practice exposures were done on cut-up Ilford MGRC slotted into the holders, just to get an idea of things. Those were the days before you could buy the likes of pre-cut Ilford's Direct Positive.

It was a total bastard trying to neatly cut MGRC down to an accurate size under a safelight with a scalpel . . . well actually I didn't even have a proper safelight either, just a Philips red bulb.

But I was dedicated!

I then moved onto film and Kodak's HC110, coz I woz no longer just dedicated, I was serious too y'ken.

I lugged that set-up all over the shop, urban, suburban, haunted sites, woods, hills and one notable trip into the wilds that very nearly killed me (though that is a bit of an exaggeration).

Becoming frustrated by trying to produce contact prints I wanted to print something, so a call to the lovely man at the much-missed MXV Photographic resulted in £375 well spent - a DeVere Bench 504, 150mm Rodagon, all inserts and hand delivered too!

Printing was fun, but I still felt a need to break free, so hunting around I found a new friend.

I have to say, looking back, the acquisition of the Wista made the biggest difference - it was like carrying a kitten as opposed to a struggling bull-mastiff.

Looking back now I wonder where all that vim came from. 

Was it just a younger man's energy and enthusiasm, or was it something else?

From 2007 to 2014 I was like a man possessed, it was pretty much all I could think of.

And then it stopped dead.

For some obscure reason, my enthusiasm wained and I let it drop like a stone . . . right after the acquisition of one of the last 90mm, f8 Super Angulons ever made.

A final 4 more exposures were taken in 2016 and then nothing till this Christmas.

Why did I drop the ball? 

I have no idea. 

It might well have had to do with Hasselblad lust (a known affliction) but I've never really thought about it until, this holiday period, whilst kneeling in the dark for an hour loading all my film holders, I pondered why on earth I had actually taken up LF photography in the first place. 

And it sort of struck me, like a box falling off a top shelf, that it was (I think) a yearning for Validation.

Ah yes, the Heffalump in the room.

I believe I thought (in my Oh-so-SERIOUS-LF mind) that if only I approached photography with a BIG idea and a BIGGER format, I could validate my creative attempts and be taken seriously. . . as a . . . as a . . . ahem, coff coff:

Photographique-artisté

Make that a small herd of Heffalumps.

You see in those days I cherished an idea that someone somewhere would actually like my stuff enough to say:

Here y'go Sheepy! 

Go forth and make photographs you poor unrecognised thing! 

Here, have a grand!

Go and buy some nice gear, you poor thing. 

All these years labouring with a knackered old Rollei T - how on earth did you manage dahling?

I think you're GREAT and that world out there deserves to see your work

Or something like that.

I think we all feel like that don't we?

Maybe it's what drives the hunger for gear we all have.

If only we had better stuff we could make better work.

Tempting isn't it - you could be recognised, or even, gasp, appreciated!

That's a younger man's dreams right there, and fortunately, such a thing never happened.

No one came knocking and nowadays I just beetle about being creative in my own way without anyone asking where the work is.

Self-funded creativity is the only way I think.

An understanding and patient partner is a massive help too.

If you're happy - great, that's the most important thing.

If others like it - great.

And if they don't - well so what.

But back to the main banana, WHY THE MADNESS?

Because, I have to say (rather like me old mate Bruce) I do find a large portion of Large Format photography relatively dull.

I know, because I've taken most of it, so don't get insulted and chuck your Dagor out of the pram.

It's a controversial statement, so let me justify myself. I've railed against it many times on here.

Just as a f'rinstance:

 

Buachaille Etive Mòr from that angle again, on an 8x10 camera and in colour too. 

Jings, just because someone famous took an iconic image of it, why copy? 

That single £20 sheet of colour film is sent off to be processed and printed (roughly a further £10 for dunking and another £10 for printing). 

Approximately, £40 for one colour image.

It's like owning a Rolex. 

Nice, but really expensive and almost pointless, because at the end of a day is it a craving for validation or something else? 

Does spending enough to cheaply feed a small family for a week on one image really make you a

Photographique-artisté?

Don't get me wrong - I'd love to have a go on the likes of a really nice 8x10" camera, and to be able to print it . . . Sorry for knocking a hole in upstairses staircase darling but the DeVere 8x10 enlarger wouldn't fit! 

But I don't necessarily think that having all that gear is going to make your work any better.

By the way, please notice the sarcastic use of work there; it's all over forums and gatherings and I loathe it. 

It's an effette term that's elitist and has all the hallmarks of Art School Bullshit. 

Work often hurts, can be mind-numbing, satisfying, exhilarating, soul-sapping, enjoyable, rewarding, stressful or a form of modern slavery. 

But please don't say photography is work, because it isn't.

Photography is a pleasurable experience that you do because you (hopefully) enjoy and are enthralled by it.

 

At the end of the day, no one is forcing you to take a picture.

So when you finally do decide to go all Ansel, mortgage your kidneys, leave a weeping family group and lug an 8x10 a couple of miles from the car, then give up because you're knackered; plonk your tripod down and think:

This'll do . . .

That is not work! It's Large Format photography.

Is it a form of masochism? Possibly.

Is it an urge for justification of the image? Possibly too.

Is it a craving for validation? Yeah possibly.

I'm not knocking anyone with the hunger to do it - after all I've been there, I can sympathise - you must have iron constitutions, but I am just pondering the reason we do it out loud in an effort to explain things to myself.

Maybe (and you can take this with a pinch of salt) most Large Format compositions are a result of the (not so) complex equation:

Weight + Distance = Image

I had to chuckle when I thought of that one; you see something promising, however, whereas with smaller formats you have the liberty to move around a bit and find something that looks exciting in the viewfinder, you are inexorably tied to that tripod (unless you're using a press camera), so you plonk it down and go through the rigmarole.

You fit camera to tripod; check camera; erect camera; lock down; open lens; compose and focus; get happy; check shutter; check meter; check f-stops; check film holder; double check composition; check focus on groundglass; make sure the corners are sharp if you want them that way; close down lens; stop down; cock shutter; insert film holder; remove slide; wait for fleeting light; take exposure; insert slide; remove film holder and place it somewhere safe; tear down set up, or else, more likely, carry it around (dangerously) on a fully erected tripod to the next place.

All the initial enthusiasm you felt for an image (well all my enthusiasm) can be rendered null and void by this activity.

Phew, is it just me or is there a pontificating twat in this room?

Anyway, again, WHY THE MADNESS when you could have just skipped in with a Medium Format camera and got pretty close to the same image?

I have thought about this a lot over the past few weeks, and I think this is where I (that's ME) am coming from now.

You see it isn't just a question of the ritual, though that is a huge part of it, but rather like doing Yoga or Tai Chi in a park, I think that the whole process gets you into a zone whereby you are entering some transcendental state of consciousness. 

The procedure is part of one whole thing. 

It's almost like a form of meditation and the image is the result of your concentration. 

Weird thought eh.

I am constantly surprised after immersing myself in taking 4 sheets of film, that a couple of hours have passed and all I have done is concentrated my attention on doing that.

Nothing else has mattered.

If you do make LF images though, please, these are just my thoughts, mad though they are - I'm really not having a pop at you - it's kind of addictive isn't it.

I'm there (behind that misted-over groundglass) with you.

There really is something rather satisfying about seeing the world on a groundglass in an upside down and reversed way and gathering all that conflicting information together so that it makes sense to your brain and ultimately to the final image.

It is certainly a challenge to do it well.

I don't know if I'll ever get there.

It actually just struck me, that it has a lot in common with my favourite TV series of the 70's, Kung Fu.

Anyway, you're not here for the pontifications of an old twat are you Glasshopper, you're here for photography . . aren't you?

You Can Carry On Now

The contacts below look utterly shite, and I would agree with you too, but that's what happens when you are trying to ease yourself back into something and trying to remember the process at the same time. 

It wasn't easy.

Gargh!
Delta 100 and TXP 320
90mm f8 Super Angulon

The 90mm f8 Super Angulon was like looking through a misted (it was very cold, the ground glass became condensationy immediately!) black net curtain. 

I hadn't a scooby what was going on.

Giving up all hope, I pointed the camera in a general direction, adjusted focus a bit and let rip.

Compositionally I have committed visual suicide as you can see.

You'll never take me seriously after this.

Developer was Adox FX39II. 

It has made me go hmmmmmm in a high-pitched way . . bit like a mozzie really.

Gargh 2!
Delta 100 and TXP 320
90mm f6.8 Angulon

It was slightly warmer - well the sun was out briefly and the wee 90mm f6.8 Angulon, whilst barely covering 5x4, did the job and I could see the ground glass a bit better, however it doesn't excuse the visual ghastliness of the above.

Maybe it IS that 5x4 thing.

I don't know.

All I do know is that the proportions of a 5x4 image are probably the most difficult to compose with - well they are for me, and strangely, unlike other formats, they seem to imbue the whole pantheon of Larger Format Photographers out there with a similar look - it is very weird.

Is it that the inherent proportions of a sheet of 5x4" or 10x8" are locked against the wider view of an increasingly widescreen world? 

Think about it, we all viewing everything in effectively Panavision.

Your TV is big and widescreen - you're so used to it that anything older than the mid-2000's looks cramped and small.

The world is 16:9 mad.

Over the past couple of years, cosying up with some old boxsets (Frasier, Cheers and Only Fools And Horses) it made me think that the old 4:3 ratio that the world lived with for so long, has far more in common with a 5x4" negative than modern 16:9.

Like the best advertising, auto-suggestion is subtle. Ergo, if you are viewing something W-I-D-E then you are thinking wide. It colours the way you view the world.

Maybe . . and it is a big maybe . . . that is why Large Format photography looks a tad out of kilter to modern eyes.

It is just a thought.

Again the sheets were developed in Adox FX39II. 

Anybody want some? 

OK it is optimised for T-Grain films (lower speed ones) but even with Delta it has produced muddy looking negatives.

Don't mention how it acted with TXP 320.

Look, don't mention it right!

That's Better!
Kodak TMY 400 (Expired 2012!)
90mm f8 Super Angulon

I had come close to deciding to wear the 90mm Super Angulon like some sort of 1990's rapper's neck attire. MC Sheep in the House, or something like that.

Fortunately I chose to lug it and the gear back to the Art College and try again.

I thought I'd better use the TMY 400 because it was the most ancient of the ancient ones I had - it expired in 2012.

The sun was out again, but really low and seeing as the whole slant of the Uni campus is South facing . . . well, what could I do but invoke the gods of flare!

Developer? 

Hmmmm - I stroked my chin - the thought of processing one sheet at a time in Pyrocat for my nominal 14 minutes leant an air of total ghastliness that I couldn't even contemplate it.

I thought again, and herein lies more madness.

It certainly wasn't going to be FX39II!

I've had 2 small containers of HC 110 (the old original un-f***ed-up stuff) sitting in my darkroom for 10+ years. It's gone a bit orange but I thought, why not, so tried it.

My reason there, is that I'd had a bad load on a sheet of film - fingers all over it trying to get the little bugger into the holder - so I thought why not try the developer and if the load was buggered up, I had nothing to lose. 

So, one 5x7 tray, 9ml of HC 110 and 295ml of water at around 20℃; 6 minutes in the dark for development, 1 for stop and around 4 for fix and bingo! A result.

I was so chuffed that it actually looked normal (compared to the mud the FX39II had produced) that I decided to process the rest of the sheets in it.

To say I was delighted would be an understatement.

HC is a nice clean-working developer and the time is very convenient, although these are now salient points as Kodak changed it entirely a few years ago. Plus it is now nearly £40 a bottle!

God bless 'em.

I think if I continue along this route I'll just use Ilfotec HC which is supposed to be virtually identical.

Haunted Lane (again)

Him (again)

The Planet Takes Over

And that's about it really - the above are scans from work prints, quickly done on Ilford MGRC, Grade 3.

I quite like them actually - it's enough to make me want to persist with the Super Angulon's dimness.

By all accounts,  the Super Angulon design is a Biogon derivitive and seeing as you've seen a lot of that courtesy of the SWC/M on these pages, well maybe there'll be an air of uniformity to the images.

Anyway, I'll let you go now - you've read a lot, and they'll be coming around with your cup of tea and scone soon.

Remember to say hello to that nice lad Herman, he might look a bit funny but his heart is in the right place.

TTFN.

Photographing Nothing

Greetings m'Dearios. Well this week we seem to have been a sailin' round in a big circle. 

We set off on Monday with all sorts of waves and well-wishes and we found ourselves back on Friday in the same port with all sorts of puzzled looks and warding.

For 'tis bad luck to return to the port you set off from in the same week.
I have an idea how it happened, and I will blame it on Mog.

That cat.

He'll sleep anywhere, and given we'd been re-caulking a part of the foredeck this week, he managed to get tar on his fur, but, before we had him trimmed, he had a snooze in my cabin, and left some nice tarry marks on me charts.

'Twasn't good though.

I made it onto the dock and was immediately beset by Cap'n Mash.

After our usual sailorly greetings, he took me aside and the following conversation ensued:

'T'isn't right cap'n'

'You're right there Mash.'

He'd found out about Mog

'In my day ship's cats were considered ill-luck when they got tarred.'

'My day too cap'n - we're the same age remember.'

'Oh. Ar. Aye, so we are.'

'You're forgetting yerself there cap'n'

He looked a bit offended.

Anyways after much beard strokin', he said:

'So where are you going to nail it?'

I've risked offending many people before, and I wasn't going to let Mash tell me what to do, so I looked him in the eye and said:

'You've overstepped yersel' there cap'n.'

He took this like a slap with a bowsprit.

'But it is cap'n. Bad luck is what it is. If you don't then I will. That cat'll bring it all down upon us again.'

'Bring what down cap'n?' I asked

He looked at me in a weird way and said in a small voice:

'The Fear, cap'n, The Fear.'

This was mighty strange, but I asked him anyway.

'What fear be that Mash?'

He rubbed at his jowls and took out his cloute and wiped his forehead and looked me straight in the eye and said:

'It.'

This was getting stranger by the minute.

'It what Mash?'

'It!'

Mr.Sheephouse had appeared on deck at this time and was observing us - no doubt he wrote it up in his journals. He was holding Mog in a friendly manner and supportive of the cat's behind, just the proper way you hold a cat.
Mog was watching too.

I didn't know what to say, so I let Mash qualify his statement. He was looking swole now, his face had lost that steely look like he was going to stop me and he had more the appearence of a big babby.

'Haven't ye noticed cap'n? 
No matter where ye go, from the Southern shoals to the Northern rocks. 
From warm water to cold. 
From the lands of the sultry-eyed ladies to the lands of the blubber-eaters.

The sea, cap'n. 

The sea! 
That's The Fear cap'n.
The sea! 

It all be the same!'

We headed out on the next tide and I am happy to report that our charts are now fine.
Mog is sitting watching me write this up. He has a dish o'cream and his favourite catnip mouse.
It takes a lot to change a sailor's mind once he's set on course, but a ship's cat is a capn's best friend.
I've raised Mog since I found him half-drowned in a burlap bag as a kit.
There was no chance of me nailin' him to a mast.
No chance at all.

***

Definition of nothing
[pronoun]
·   not anything; no single thing:
    I said nothing
    there’s nothing you can do
    they found nothing wrong
·   something of no importance or concern:
    ‘What are you laughing at?’ ‘Oh, nothing, sir’
     they are nothing to him
[as noun]:
     no longer could we be treated as nothings
·    (in calculations)
     no amount;
     nought.
[adjective]
[attributive] informal
·     having no prospect of progress; of no value:
      he had a series of nothing jobs
[adverb]
·     not at all:
      a man who cared nothing for her
      he looks nothing like the others
[postpositive]
·     North American informal used to contradict something emphatically:
      ‘This is a surprise.’ ‘Surprise nothing.’

***

You know, looking back over contact prints and boxes of prints I have, I seem to have spent an inordinate amount of money and time and effort on photographing nothing at all.

One generally supposes that a picture needs to have a subject, but as I shall show dear reader my subjects often consist of nothing other than a piece of wall, or fence, or moor, or tree. Nothing you could really call 'subject matter', nothing even that you could really call a snap. So why do I continue on this fool's errand when the world and his brother wants pictures of something?

When I was much much younger and still finding my feet on a fingerboard, my Mother would urge me, even cajole me, to play something with "a tune to it."

At the time, John William's Cavatina was the piece of classical guitar music that everyone wanted to hear, but I simply couldn't play it. I could have made a half-hearted, fumble fingered go at it, but I couldn't just sit down in a room with Mum and Dad, Trevor and Olive, and Arthur and Evelyn and Dolly and Tom and Doug and play it. I could do a passable attempt at the opening bit of the Concerto Aranjuez, or a Chinese-whispers version of Smokestack Lightning, but Cavatina?

No way hose-pipe.

Not a chance.

And I wonder now why I didn't even try to appease them. It would have been simpler, would have won me all sorts of appreciation, maybe even an extra piece of God's own pudding (in case you're wondering, an Apple pie, with shortcrust pastry and a hint of the exotic with cloves added for spice) and custard . . . but I didn't. I prefered instead to mumble and do the hard rasquedo-ey bit from Concerto and that was it. 

I sort of realise now why I was like that - basically, I am stupid.

It manifests itself in many ways, but generally, at the hint of being able to do something that might in the long-run lead onto something, I stand in the corner and just say 'No'.

It has been the same with every single creative endevour I have ever been involved with, and to be honest I find it immensely irritating.

So how does this contrary motion manifest itself photographically?

Well, I must admit that when (and if) in a situation where all comers are photographing the view or whatever interesting is happening, I tend to find myself off in a different direction, or around the corner, or just plain photographing the people doing the photographing. When in landscapes of incredible beauty, I tend not to go for the grand view (though goodness knows I have) but more for the things in that landscape that I find attractive . . . and that is . . . usually . . . what you could call . . . er . . . nothing.

So why bother?

Well I find this a difficult one to quantify.

Apparently John Szarkowski wrote in a forward to one of Ansel Adams’ books, a quote from Fred Astaire in the film Funny Face. Astaire was playing a fashion photographer. Audrey Hepburn’s character asked him, “Why do you photograph beautiful women?” and he said, “Madam, you’d be amazed at how small the demand is for pictures of trees.”

I think that is an interesting quote, because in Mr.Adams' case, pictures of trees and the grand vista were what he made his name with, however my favourite Adams photographs are the ones where people are involved and where the non-obvious is the subject matter.

There is one of walls and buildings from Mexico (where the light is just extraordinary and a dog just pops into the frame and Mr.Adams makes the photograph) that I love very much for the fact that other than the dog appearing at the appropriate moment, there is nothing going on.

But there is also another, a portrait he made on his Zeiss Contax, of Georgia O'Keefe and Orville Cox at the Canyon de Shelly national monument.

I think he out-decisived HCB on this.

From my own point of view, it is full of nothing, and yet it doubtless has something.

Georgia O'Keeffe and Orville Cox, Canyon de Chelly National Monument
©Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust

One wonders what was said, or maybe even un-said. There can be so much read into this seemingly simple photograph, but ultimately it is a photograph of nothing where something is happening.

For my own bizarre ends, you name it I have photographed it, from cigarette stubbers to barren, rock-strewn hillsides, to pictures of mist (taken from inside the mist) to piles of earth and posters and bits of light on walls.

There is never any intended subtext of duality.

They are just plain photographs.

So why do I do it? Is there some sort of attractiveness in my subject matter. Something that might halt a viewer in their tracks and make them say (Hmmmmm . .. I see!) . . Well no not really. A large number of my photographs aren't just as dull as dishwater, they're horrendously boring too. But the thing is, I quite like them. I made them, and even if they are dull to you and you and you, to me they are fine. Not great. Just fine.

I don't make photographs of sports events or society photographs - those tend to be pictures of something. Mine are more like random observations from a chaotic world (isn't that a great book title . . so great I am going to copyright it now):

Random Observations From A Chaotic World ©  Phil Rogers 06/09/2012

There, that's better.

What I think I am trying to say (and regular FB readers will appreciate the fact that every week they're delving into the thought process of a Stromatalite) is that photographic subject matter is obviously entirely a personal choice, but (and here's the kicker) like my refusal to play Cavatina, it doesn't actually have to be of anything at all.

It's a weird way to approach a hobby, but it is my way and unless I change dramatically, I can't really see anything beyond my random collection of images of unremarkable buildings, trees in the middle of nowhere, ephemera and detritus, random mist, forgotten parcels of land and the occasional person passing through the edges of my viewfinder.

A photograph is a photograph is a photograph; be it masterful archival print handled by be-gloved curators in a museum, or a snap permanently pasted in a plastic sleeved album handed round at parties and family get-togethers. From the £20,000 investment on a gallery wall to the plastic-papered object you collect from Tescos, to the thirty billion random examples littering the ether. All photographs. All of them of subject matter that might be something, could possibly even be something, but mostly is nothing.

Hmmmm (rubs beard and re-reads again) this has all gone a bit . . shite. I've got away from what I was trying to say and wandered off again. 

That dear reader is part of how this comes together most weeks. powered by massive mugs of tea my brain slowly grinds into motion, but it doesn't necessarily grind in the direction it was grinding the day before. But please be ensured that, like a fleshy orbital sander, it will eventually get to some obscure point.

Yes, what was I saying.

Why do I do it?

I think it all stems from something Gary Winogrand said when asked why he photographed so much, and his answer was (to paraphrase him) that he photographed to see what the world was like photographed.

There is (strangely) something to this seemingly obtuse, mad and random statement.

Strap on a helmet - he's headed off in a different direction again . .this is the Winogrand by-pass:

Gary snapped away like a good'un; like there was no tomorrow.

On the surface, seemingly endless random shots of people and situations.

Photographs of, really, nothing.

Tiny slices of time, chaotic and juxtaposed. Fleeting moments that would at their time of occurrence have absolutely no meaning at all to their perpetrators. An arm lifted here, a conversation there. A laugh. A burden. A fall. A bag. A coffee. The movements of the world. Bits of time that you would never analyse.

But with crafted observation, transformed into art.

When you view his images there is something that hits you straight in the nose.

He was a humanist.

There is great feeling and warmth deeply inherent in his photographs.

There is pathos and a very refined sense of humour.

They're not gritty in the way a lot of photography of the 60's and 70's was.

They're honest and human, no set-ups, just lightning fast reactions to unfolding situations; anticipation to the Nth degree.

But ultimately photographs of nothing made into something.

Here's a couple of examples - they're mad and funny and strange all at the same time.

The first image is almost like something from a surrealist painting don't you think?

Democratic Convention, LA, 1960
© Winogrand Estate

It's bizarre to think that in photographing nothing: three people, at random, up close (with the incredible fact that none of them seem to be aware of the camera) Mr.Winogrand has, like Mr.Adams, made a photograph into which so much can be read.

My next example from him is probably one of my favourite photographs these days.

Untitled 1977
© Winogrand Estate

Again, a picture of nothing.

A boy and a sheep (?) in what looks like a stock shed, and yet, one wonders what is going on.

My own thoughts are (every time I look at it):

Who is looking after who?

Is that some strange alien and the boy is disgruntled because he is hogging the limelight?

Have they had a fight?

Again in photographing the mundane Mr.Winogrand has provided us with an image which raises more questions than it answers and with the added bonus that we smile and chuckle and then this great photograph is now our new best friend.

I call it genius.

Sadly Gary passed away in the 1980's leaving an archive of tens of thousands of unprocessed rolls of film. One wonders what other gems are in there.

Ok, we've taken a left and now we're back on Sheephouse Drive

At this point in time, I have decided to shamelessly shoehorn some of my own photographic nothings into the proceedings . . . and why not . . . FB is my little kingdom and I can do what I like.

Of course these images are in rather grand company, but I like to think that if either Mr.Winogrand, or Mr.Adams were still alive and came round, we could sit and have some tea and good old chin-wag, so I am sure they won't mind my paltry efforts.

The photos I have included below are essentially images of nothing.

They're random snaps (well the first two are) from random moments of time.

There's nothing going on and there's nothing happening.

The first two were made on holiday with my trusty little Olympus Trip 35:

Mersey Ferry, 2012

                         
      

Yes, that flag is on the Mersey Ferry - I dunno, it just seemed like a nice little bit of Britishness that I rather like - but essentially it is a snap of nothing. I was just wandering around the deck blazing through a roll of film and pretending to look:

a.) Arty

and

b.) Important

Nobody was fooled - my family remained in the cafe area and looked unimpressed.

Two days before we had been a-wanderin' in the rain around the beautiful and lively City of Liverpool, when I spied the next subject.

The man was drunk or homeless or just plain desperate, but his back and the way he moved caught my eye and I had to briefly follow him and make this picture.

I felt (and still feel) sorry for him actually.

He exuded an air of complete lonliness.

It was him versus the world and the world was winning, and it was raining.

I should have bought him a coffee in hindsight, but such was his air that he would probably have told me to shove it.

Man In The Rain, Liverpool, 2012

The third is the most mundane, but it shows how, sometimes, unplanned and strange things can happen.

It was a lengthy set-up involving a 5x4 view camera and a large tripod.

Nominally it is a picture of nothing, that somehow seems to have become a picture of something.

Something weird.

Just why I decided to photograph this clump of trees is totally beyond me.

It took about 20 minutes to set the camera up, a few minutes to sort out the meter readings and make the exposure, a few minutes take-down time; and then of course there's the lugging time, the getting back to the car time; the processing time (one sheet of film at a time) and then the printing time.

A large chunk of my life has been wasted on making an image of absolutely no consequence or worth to anyone . . at least that is what I thought.

However, somehow, light and rocks and leaves and their positioning in the landscape have led me to capture an image of a dead man's face. You can see it quite clearly, near the bole of the left hand trees. He looks like he has been trussed rather in the method of Bronze Age sacrifices, and, putting arms and legs onto everything as usual, I feel that maybe some of the spirit of this quiet clump of forgotten land has manifested itself in a natural apparition.

We are programmed for faces. Just look around you and they are everywhere in the natural world. Strangely, I just seem to have found one in a pile of rocks and leaves, in a public cemetery, early on a May morning.



The Drowned Man, 2010

I could have illustrated this FB with loads more images of total inconsequence, but I have spared you dear reader.

They are dull.

Maybe when we get to know each other better I'll reel them out and await your judgement.

In the meantime, don't fuss over your photographs, just go and take a walk and take a picture of something that you find interesting to look at.

For the sheer hell of it, why not follow Mr.Winogrand and just photograph to see what the world looks like photographed.

It might well be nothing in the eyes of the world, but it will be your something.

God bless, thanks for reading and (as usual) stay dry.