Archie Texture

OK - so I didn't know that this pun was somehow going to involve a royal babe at arms, but there y'go - might get a few more hits . . . and don't worry there's none of this Danny Baker foolishness - honest, see that Twitter man . . . fecking hell - I honestly think that it makes people believe they're untouchable and above everything.
Well, there y'go - he's a wee bit older than me and should really have known better.

This is after all the world of the non-gender specific Gingerbread Person . .

Seriously . . you didn't know?:

https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/coop-gingerbread-gender-neutral-name-person-competition-a8864666.html

An eye opener isn't it, and certainly puts a new spin on the children's favourite:

 ". . . Run Run As Fast As You Can, You Can't Catch Me, I'm The Gingerbread Person . . . and if you do catch me, I'll have the rozzers on you so there . . ."

We've hit a point where you can't even say boo to a goose without a bunch of goose lovers telling you you're a total b'tard.

What a strange time we've created.

Anyway, what has that got to do with photography?

Exactly,  NOTHING.

Dreamland, V&A Dundee, Easter Morning 2019

So, here we go - I found myself needing to go and take some pictures. I also found myself using the last of my wonderful kit of Pyrocat-HD.

I'd got the kit from an Italian seller on ebay - a chap called Vincenzo whose shop was called

processialternativi 

if you click the link it'll take you to his shop - he's not doing Pyrocat at the moment though.
Anyway, I thought I'd look around and actually found a place in the UK doing kits - yes I could have ordered around £40 of raw chemicals and had enough to do me a lifetime, but having over-enthusiasticised the heating of the Sodium Metabisulphite last time, I thought I'd make it easy for myself.

So, Wet Plate Supplies it was - here they are:

http://www.wetplatesupplies.com

Their premix was £6.99 for 100ml (in Glycol and Distilled Water no less).
I combined an order for 300ml with some other stuff I needed and despite the heavy duty postage price (they said it's because few carriers will carry chemicals these days) it promptly arrived and has sat waiting to be used.
But more on that in a minute.

Firstly, I was up and out by 5.40 AM on Easter Sunday.

I'm not a particularly religious person, despite my dark past as an acolyte, but arriving and parking up at Mary Slessor Gardens there was something in the air, and it wasn't water vapour, though there was squidoons of that. 

I was surrounded by peace, despite the higher than expected levels of traffic at such an early hour.

The Biblical statement: 

The Peace Of God Which Passeth All Understanding

rang loud in my head . . .  alongside Nigel Molesworth's Skool Dinner Grace:

"This Piece Of Cod, Which Passeth All Understanding"

Yep, Peace (with a capital P) was in the air and I genuinely felt optimistic for the world as I loaded a roll of nearly expired Delta 400.

My weapon of choice was the SWC/M.

The light was . . well, William McGonagall, a Victorian poet par excellence and a man way before his time (as indeed seems to be the case with a fair chunk of the Victorian population of this fair City) called the River Tay "Silvery" . . and it is at times and quite often, so before I go on, please take a dander through Mr. McGonagall's poetry . . you'll laugh and cry all at the same time:

https://www.mcgonagall-online.org.uk/works

Anyway, onwards and downwards as they say.

I was ready to go at a shade before sunrise, but pressed for time with regard to taxi duties, I set off at a pace.
How it went is seen here:

Film # 66/57

Oh alright, you did ask for them . . . here's my notes:

#66/57, DELTA 400 EI 200, 21/4/19

1./ 1/4, f8, ZIII MLU Wall

2./ 1/4, f8, ZIII MLU Wall

3./ 15 Secs     - - -   > 55 Secs f22 ZIII??

4./ 1/8th f8 ZIII

5./ 1/8th f8 ZIII

6./ 1/30th, f16, ZIII

7./ 1/8th, f16, ZIII Pool

8./ 1/8th, f11, ZIII Staffroom

9./ 1/30th, f11, ZIII Ugly

10./ 1/30th, f11, ZIII

11./ 1/30th, f11, ZIII

12./ 1/2, f16, ZIII

*NEW* PHD 5+5+500 22℃.

Agit 30 sec, then 4 per min, to 17 mins then stand to 21. No waterbath.

Very overdeveloped negs  - probably just finishing at 17 would do it.

Not sure how they will print, but eyeballing them just now they're dense, but totally readable - remarkable really

My erstwhile companion was this chap:

He looks perky doesn't he, especially on the photographer's friend, the Leitz Table Top Tripod.

I've banged on about the TTT before and whilst these days I tend to find anything with that red logo ridiculously over-priced, the TTT is reasonable AND sturdy. Really sturdy actually - you can easily hold a 500C/M on one - not only that, but in poor light conditions it really does make for a wonderful camera brace - highly recommended from yer Sheephouse.

That's my basic travel light SWC/M kit - it's a Think Tank Suburban Disguise 20, which fits the SWC/M and Lowepro bag (with light meter inside) inside the bag, or, I can also fit a 500C/M with 150mm Sonnar (and hood!) in the bag with the meter/lowepro combo outside. The TTT pops in the back pocket.
You can't really get more unobtrusive or lightweight/easy access. I rate the Think Tank bag too - it's well made with some thoughtful bits and bobs.

Anyway, I keep getting sidetracked don't I.

I just set off photographing anything that caught my eye and wandered along to the V&A, where I encountered a group of people (actually older ladies and a man) reading biblical passages and singing hymns quietly as the sun rose.

It was one of those moments when you could have removed all aspects of modernity and buildings and noise and suchlike and moved back several handfuls of centuries. 

The feeling was profound. 

Their emotion was subtle and raw and hung in the air with the water vapour.

I didn't want to intrude on their worship, so I passed them without photographing and moved a good way under the tunnel, dropped to the floor with the TTT, levelled the bubble on the top of the SW (not easy to do in such low light conditions) metered the walls for ZIII and got 15 seconds . . . which translated to 55 secs for reciprocity.

Easter Sunrise,  V&A Dundee, Easter Morning 2019

I rather like it - weirdly the folks stayed pretty still for 55 seconds!

The above is a scan from the print - not a great scan and not a brilliant print, but there's subtlety which gets lost on-screen.

The print was on ancient Agfa MCC fibre. Because of the over-exposedness of the negatives I actually printed this on Grade 0 (80 Y) and developed it in Kodak Polymax. 

It's had some selenium too. 

The one thing I would say, is it has done a Adams, and dried down to a dull thud - it is probably a combo of incredibly old paper developing a base fog and Grade 0. I might try printing this set again at a different Grade - they're all Grade 0 on this 'ere post.

Anyway, I moved through to the other side, took a picture which Bruce thinks I should have printed, and came back through as they'd finished.

End Of Praise, V&A Dundee, Easter Morning 2019

This is where the TTT proved its usefulness - braced against my chest, an 8th at f8!

Again I rather like this  - the light had lifted a bit and the signboard at the right hand side looks like some sort of serving robot.

Again the print is a tad thud-like . . . the missus just eyeballed both just now and said it looks better onscreen than it does in the flesh which says I need to up the Grade on any subsequent reprints . . . the power of a different pair of eyes!

The strange thing to me is that now they had stopped their worship and were just chatting, the atmosphere changed completely. I said Good Morning as I passed and got the same in return - one of them walked away towards the docks, and after I photographed frames 6,7 and 8, the rest scooted past me, hopped into a very small car (yep, all 5 of them) and zipped off somewhere at breakneck speed.

I carried on taking pictures of shapes - some of which I should really print - I'll maybe get a handle on that for a Part 2 - and finally finished the whole thing in the space of around 40 minutes, which I suppose says something.
Solo, photocentric trips aid concentration - you can throw yourself into the feel of a place and hopefully come away with something.

I developed the film on the same day with the new Pyrocat.
Interestingly, well, it was for me, on my home mixed stuff, when you added Part B to Part A, you went slightly grey, and then when you added water there was a distinctly bluey-grey hue to the solution.
With the new stuff, this was pinkish.
I should have thought twice about this, because when I'd been making up my original batch, I'd overdone the temperature in the double boiler and as such (I think) overcooked the Sodium Metabisulphite.
That would probably explain why my times were quite different from the online guides' times - anyway, I pressed ahead with my old (consistent) time and ended up with this:

OK, so no prizes won for composition, but anyway - they look pretty darn dense to me - how about you?

The density is really thick, but somehow, it has leant something to them. 

Were these developed in a non-staining developer, they'd have been perfect replacement frames for your sunglasses, but in Pyrocat-HD they've gone somewhere else, and in the case of the super-dense ones you can see at the top left, it appears to be dreamland.

V&A Dundee,   Easter Morning 2019

Well there she is, Goode Shippe V&A sailing out of a thick morning fog!

It's really hard to get an idea of the subtlety of the light on the hoardings (which conceal a wasteland reserved for who knows what . . . ah, typical Dundee!) from the scan of the print, but it is there, albeit in a thudlike manner.

There's definitely room for improvement on the printing front, but that's good - if you've nothing to push against you might as well put your trotters up, smoke a couple of cigars and congratulate yourself on how great you are.

And so I have saved my favourite print from this session till last, and I can't even describe what I like about it, apart from the fact that to me it looks like a scene from one of my dreams.

Dreamland, V&A Dundee, Easter Morning 2019

It's a combination of that bollard (writ tiny because of the extreme wideness . . . no not me you cheeky bugger) and the mysterious Z on the hoarding.
The bollard looks like a lost handbag to my eyes, and the super-dense-density has rendered the light in such a way that it has isolated the hoarding for its own mysterious purpose . . .

Bollards! I can hear you shouting and quite rightly - that psycho-babble is a load of old bollards.

It's an OK photo, that's what it is, and that'll do for me.

Well, it would do more for me if it was printed on a more effective paper - I reckon I'll use up some of my old super-rare Galerie Grade 2 (thanks Ilford - can't believe you consigned it to eternity)

And, that's it folks - more grist to the mill, and more fun had by me.

How do you cope reading about all this exciting stuff - it must make your lives seem:

Oh So DULL Dahling, yawn . . . 

Over and out till next time

Rescue Job

Welcome to a tale of horror that awaits even the most experienced photographer - yes, it's that old arithmetical conundrum:

Confidence ÷ Carelessness = Total F-Up!

Oh yes, sometimes, the shit hits the paddock and all you are left with are some nice memories and a severely underexposed film which yields virtually nothing.

Look, here's a hankie, wipe your nose and get over it.

OK, technically (to my eyes) the print below is OK, because I've managed to rescue it but on the whole, for film #66/52:   
£4.70
went down the toilet.

A Smashed Window On A Dull Morning

                           

Well, what can I say? How did I get there?

A Brain Fart? (Well, to be honest, I've never understood this expression, because unless you are really unlucky and digestive gasses are exiting your nostrils, mouth and lug'oles ['cos you've been wired up wrongly] then there's no such thing as a Brain Fart)
So did I knock something off on the meter and misread every single scene?
Well, erm . . NO!
Some mystic mischievous elf fiddled with the meter reading wheel thingy whilst I wasn't looking?
Well . . .
Actually and being brutally honest, hands up . . . IT WAS ME!

Y'see, it boils down to being far too over-confident and blithely thinking that I could get away with a rough (AND wrongly interpreted . . . gargh!) shadow reading at the start, then trust in the film's latitude and be fine from there . . .

Sadly (or perhaps not sadly . . . sorry to bring the argument to the fore again Bruce) you learn from experiences.
In Scotland, if you're handholding a camera and it isn't bright sunshine, and you're rating at anything less than about EI 400, then readings around and above 1/30th at any aperture smaller than f8 really have to be taken with a pinch of salt.
This probably won't occur in your part of the world, but it does up here.
Of course you can easily go lower and slower, but it requires extreme care a steady hand and confidence in your own lack of endemic shake, and not happy snappin'!

'Endemic shake'? 

Well, yes, everyone does, whether it be a bad positioning of your legs, breathing at the wrong moment or just a lack of concentration.
Even the old Roger Hicks' tip of breathing in, composing, and as you GENTLY exhale, releasing the shutter, will sometimes fail you. Though actually that is a fantastic tip that I have put to good use more than once.
Anyway, to get back to the whole point of this, I F-D up big time!
The contact print below looks semi-OK - believe me it isn't - I've had to do some jiggery-pokery to get it to such, so any comments like:

"Oh it definitely looks better on the contact" 

won't be appreciated..

FILM #66/52

Film #66/52

Right so here's my notes for each frame - seems dull . . maybe it is, but when the going gets tough, the tough have a cup of tea:

#66/52, HP5 EI 200, 6/1/19

1./ 1/8th, f5.6, ZIII Gate
2./ 1/60th, f11, ZIII
3./ 1/125th, f8, ZIII, Ali
4./ 1/30th, f11, Z?
5./ 1/30th, f11, Z?, Bridge
6./ 1/15th, f11, ZIII, Rail
7./ 1/15th, f11, ZIII, Window
8./ 1/15th, f11, ZIII, Refl.
9./ 1/15th, f11, ZIII, Shatter
10./ 1/15th, f11, ZIII, Elec.
11./ 1/60th, f.5.6, ZIII, Ali
12./ 1/15th, f8, ZIII, Mausoleum

All handheld and u/exposed

PHD 5+5+500 21℃.
Agit 30 sec, then 4 per min,to 17 mins then stand to 21. No waterbath.
Shame  - some good stuff had they been exposed properly.



Funny, when you look at it I am sort of within my recommended times, so I'll just say that I have not a clue as to why what happened, happened,  'cept I must have made a total balls-up on my initial reading.
Anyway, faced with such a dog's dinner of thinness, what did I do?
Too right, I had a go at printing some of them!

I had to have a go - maybe it is masochism.
Anyway, old pearl finish Ilford MGRC got trawled out, a swearbox was placed next the darkroom door and away I went.

Mausoluem

There's virtually no bones on the negative - it's thinner than the top of my head. I figured that printing on even Grade 2 would render a soot and whitewash finish, so I had a wee chat with myself, and printed it on Grade 0.
Low Grade printing is something I rarely do, 'cos my negatives are always perfectly exposed 😀

But this was a different case, so Grade 0 it was, however even that proved to be too much, so what did I do?
Yep Potassium Ferricyanide.
The more I use it the more I realise that it is a dangerous thing.
Very easy to get over-confident and leave a print in till it is a shade of its former self - you'll also get a yellowing of the print if you're not careful, and such is the case here.

Allied to this, in a spirit of 'F-IT, why not?' I (frustrated at the seeming lack of bleaching that was going on) added MORE crystals whilst the print was in the solution and this has led to that streaky bit at the left side of the door that looks rather like I have captured a spirit exiting the scene.

I quite like this actually - when it happened I snatched the print out, washed it, re-fixed and then placed it in the washer.

It's a physical artefact, albeit a flawed one.

Old City Best Seen Through Glass

This was an unusual one - there was so little exposed material on the negative that I did wonder whether I could achieve anything.

The exposure even at Grade 0 was incredibly short, though I did add an extra 4 seconds at the lower section just even things out. Despite all this it was still incredibly dark, so, what did I do?

Yep, Pot Ferry.

It was fascinating to watch the sky because though initially it was really dark, in transition through the bleach, I saw a reflection of myself before I over-did everything and rendered it as you now see it.

I then washed it.

And again, in the spirit of F-IT, I did something highly unusual.

I've got a bottle of Agfa Viradon - their legendary brown sulphide toner from days of yore. It's at least 15 years old, so I thought F-IT, mixed some up and bunged it in and left it there for around 5 mins and indeed, much to my surprise, it has given the print a subtle 1970's brown flared trouser look - sort of velvety.

It seems to suit the washed out view in a morose sort of way.

After that, I took the print out, bunged it in a weak Sodium Sulphite bath, rinsed it and then chucked it into some selenium!

You'll not find this sort of work mentioned in The Print, but, so far, no stains.

Après selenium I used hypoclear - actually it was the bog standard Toop Sodium Sulphite mix again.

And then it was into the wash.

Of everything I printed in this session, this is the one I am going to revisit with proper paper and attitude. It would suit being bigger - maybe the few sheets of Agfa MCC 9.5 x 12" that I have left would be appropriate.

I like it a lot.

At the end of the day, whilst this probably doesn't hold with traditional darkroom practice, I think you do have to have a bit of a muck-about with things. And yes, you can even end up with a physical artefact that you could look at 20 years from now and say:

"Why on earth did I make this???"

A Smashed Window On A Dull Morning

Well, yes I suppose this is the poster boy of the whole session. 

The thing I would say in my defence (yes I KNOW it is poorly composed and taken) is that the bridge we were on wobbles like blancmange the moment anyone steps on it.
Look, there were people coming, lots of them, I was cold. The thought of being jiggled around like, well blancmange, whilst looking daft, holding a really unusual camera really didn't appeal to me.
I even had awareness of being a bit selfish when we were supposed to be on a walk together and there I was a snappin' away (actually my darling wife minded not a jot, but all the same) so, I initially didn't notice this, turned around, noticed it, ran back and snap.
So, it's sort of level but had I gone lower it would have been MORE level (no converging verticals). 

This one was actually a tad over-exposed too as I was shooting into the morning light and the 'shatter' was damn hard to capture.

Anyway, in the darkroom again, a short exposure on Grade 0, normal develop and fix, then Pot Ferry (which made the shatter crisper and also brought out those light marks on the glass).
It was then washed and toned in selenium and hypo'd again then washed.

There's little drama with this one, but I like it, as there is something about the way the cracks have juxtaposed light and dark (they're dark at the top and light at the bottom) that gives an air of unreality to it (to my eyes).

But then again maybe I am just talking out of my arse.

As a non-exhibiting, non-involved in clubs/'arts'/exhibitions/foundations LONE photographer, I have to do a lot of talking and convincing to myself:

Is this stuff any good?
Good?? Define good?
Well, y'know . . 'good'.
Well, I suppose it depends on your definition of the word.
Drone . . . drone . . . drone.

Maybe you recognise your own conversations in that.
It's tough isn't it.
I suppose all this blog is, is some way of getting all this stuff littering my house 'out there'!

I might have a go with it on Galerie - we'll see.

And that as they say is that. Thank you for reading. If you feel inspired to have a fart-around in your darkroom, feel free - just remember the gas mask - I'd forgotten how wonderfully awe-inspiringly, smelly Viradon was. It quite reminded me of myself.

Oh and I forgot to mention that the camera was the Hasselblad SWC/M, which made for a challenging (but fun) lightweight walkabout camera.

I'll maybe have to revisit this bunch of negatives again and print frames 1 and 4 too - that first one is damn tantalising.

That's all - TTFN, be good, have fun and remember to keep eating your peas . . . yes even those ones that have rolled away over there.

Long Range Weather Forecast

Morning Chunderers . . well, as you well know, a New Ear is upon us and I don't know about you, but I fancy a pint.

Sorry, did I say PINT? I meant PRINT!
 
Yes, at last, like coughing up a fur-ball of creative inactivity I finally got back into the darkroom, got out some proper fibre paper and had a damn good printing session.
It lasted a few hours and I filled my Paterson print washer to capacity so could do no more, but I believe I was satisfied.
Now you're probably rubbing your noggins and wondering why I am speaking like this when I have already published a piece on printing in 2018 - well, I had two days worth of printing before the enlarger bulb holder went.
Sequence In Dream Minor was completed on Day Two, but this lot were done on Day One and I'd already started writing this if you know what I mean.
No Time Machine involved, well, at least not yet.

Anyway, onwards - the papers I used were some wonderful and terribly ancient Agfa MCC multigrade and some even more wonderfuller and possibly even more terribly ancienter Ilford Galerie - Grade 2.

The negatives were some I'd made back in September 2017 and had been desperate to print . . however despite my desperation I didn't go mad and print the lot in one go, no, I just (argh!) burned a few sheets of irreplaceable Agfa to see what I could do. 

Tantamount to 'coming out' at a Rugby Players' Stag-Do I know, but you know what, Multigrades don't last forever and I've still got about 25 sheets left, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
Initially the results were, erm, shite.
Too dark and way too much contrast, but I'll come to that later.
It just felt sooooo good to get back into the slow rhythm of darkroom work.
It is a tiny space is my darkroom, and I have to kneel to print (could be construed as praying to the Gods of Silver Gelatin), but, like a well-designed kitchen (you've heard of the kitchen triangle haven't you?) it is incredibly easy to find your way around and get on with some action, so kneeling on bare flagstones is fine actually.

But first let us rewind.

I thort you sed there wos no Time Machine involved Sheepy?

Yes I know, but, well, excuse me . . .

Some background - this particular photographic adventure occurred back in September 2017 - oh it was fun, in fact it was cracking fun (with extra crack).
It was so much so, that I decided to utilise the ubiquitous PiePhone (Sausage and Bean Mk. 4 if you are wondering) and make some vijos.

The films were TMX 100 (expired 09/2015) EI 50 and Ilford  FP4+ (fresh) EI 80 and I shot them both over the space of about 2 hours, where (again) I easily slipped into The Zone.
It was an incredible experience where time and everything else moved quietly aside and I found myself immersed in the easy rhythm of looking at the land, the setting of my tripod, meter reading, focus, composition and the wonderful, light thunk of the Hasselblad mirror-lock-up being activated and the inspiring whirr of the shutter capturing something special.
I hope the results bring that across to you.

I remember Ralph Gibson saying that he often willed the light to produce something special and when he was processing the film he did the same with the chemicals. You're probably thinking "BOLLOCKS!" but I dunno, sometimes, certain things need that sort of thinking.

When I was younger and more foolish I remember standing outside camera shops and looking at Bronica SQ's and thinking if only I had one of those I could channel all this feeling I have for landscape into reality . . . but alas it was not to be and I probably spent any money I saved on a guitar (!) . . . that's why the Hasselblad has been such a revelation to me.
Setting it atop a good tripod, confidently choosing your f-stop and time; composing and locking up the mirror 'til you decide to trip the cable release, is my old self come alive.
I can feel that naive 20-odd year old (OK, he looks a little strange, half buried in mud, in his drainpipes and Dunlop Green Flash) standing beside me punching the air and knowing somehow that light and time are translating.

Translating?

Yes!

I, through the medium of photography (my camera, film, chemicals and paper) am translating some deep currents of atmosphere from the Scottish countryside into something that (hopefully!) has meaning to all men.
Does that sound like shite?
Probably, but like I said last time, if some of the guff that passes for (f)Art these days passes for ART, then my shite is as valid as the next mans.
Possibly more so?
Well, without getting too far ahead of myself, I put EVERYTHING I have into making photographs (and writing too) - it's a creative urge that isn't funded by Arts Council grants . . . like most of you, I do this for the love of it and spend my hard-earned ackers on materials and tools.
I go to © The Red Shed and make prints. I wheel them out onto this blog and they are exposed to the world to ignore.
That's fine by me.  
I do it first and foremost, for me, but if anyone else likes them, then I truly appreciate it.
It's the creative process and the translation (that are part and parcel of the craft of photography and printing) that are important.
That's what I love.


Anyway, first up was a negative, that, though OK, looked heavily underexposed.
Yes, caution pays in such choices, but I love the feel of the photograph so thought I would have a crack at it.
So, a quick test strip of Agfa at Grade 4 (100M).
Why 4?
Well, it is really old paper and, like a lot of MC paper, I feel age can impart a certain dullness to things; last time I used it it was all on Grade 3 to give me what I needed and seeing as I haven't properly fibre printed in over a year and a half (!!!! - don't worry, I gave myself a good kicking when I realised that) I thought its age would show even more . . so, the Agfa then, and on Grade 4 (100 M in Kodak units).

Hmmm - like a black cat in a coal cellar, wrong choice, however, would I listen to the voice of reason? NOOOO, of course not, so blindly stumbling on, and first print produced.
Some background though:

Enlarger - DeVere 504
Lens - Vivitar 105mm
Easel - Knackered and Beardy
Developer  - Liquid Kodak Dektol, also known as Kodak Polymax
Stop - Kodak
Fix - Ilford

And here's the print - almost invisible, though the harder grade has produced some nice highlighty bits.
Yes, it is dark Jim, but not dark as we know it . . . I wanted to keep the very sombre mood

Agfa MCC - Grade 4

I shrugged my shoulders, made an executive decision, punched myself in the face, and switched to Grade 3.

Sadly I didn't change the time of the exposure, but that's the sort of stupid mistake you can make when you aren't doing this all the time. It is very easily done, and that is partly why I am including the blunders, you can only learn from mistakes.

Agfa MCC - Grade 3

So I made another executive decision, knee-capping myself in the process and did less time and some wafting of hands to bring the banks to life a bit.

Hand-Wafted Agfa MCC - Grade 3
(with brussel sprout)

But it was still too dark! Not only that, but some lovely staining occurred on the paper (and no, I haven't dropped a leftover Christmas Brussel on the print).
So, with some blue air occurring, I ditched the Agfa, made another executive decision, and switched to Galerie Grade 2.

Super-Ancient Ilford Galerie - Grade 2

Now obviously this is ridiculously lightly printed, but it does reveal everything hidden under cover of darkness in the Agfa ones, so from there I made what I think to be the correct judgement of exposure, balancing detail and sombreness. 

The final print is in the big prints bit at the bottom.

Anyway, I became bored with that negative, so wanted to try something else - this being one of my Sonnar photos. 

I took a stab at guessing exposure too and this is what came out:

Super-Ancient Ilford Galerie - Grade 2

I was a tad too light, but I could live with it. 

There's a little-known darkroom trick I utilised on this: if you are printing away and are pretty much at fruition but the blacks just aren't quite there, try squeezing a small amount of neat developer into the tray and agititating a little faster than you normally would just to disperse it. It can squeeze the maximum blacks out of your paper without overly affecting contrast - it is subtle, but it does seem to work, especially if you are working in a cold darkroom with trays at room temperature (like me). 

I saw Joe McKenzie use this technique, and he would then go on to selenium tone too, thus adding just a tad more richness to the blacks. 

Interesting stuff (well, I think so)!

Anyway, here's my finished prints (sadly not finished pints).

The one thing that is really obvious from them is how unlike each other the 60mm Distagon and 150mm Sonnar are. . 

The Distagon is the all-seeing eye - it is as accurate as can be (apart from some slight distortion of things at the very edges of a frame) and produces an incredible mix of cold hard fact and pleasing tones. 

The Sonnar on the other hand is like a night in a boutique hotel with all the trimmings if you get my drift - it is gloriously romantic in its view of the world, rendering anything not in focus into a wonderful mash of soft beauty. It is easy to see why it is probably the world's most popular portrait design. 

I have another Sonnar-based lens - the Nikkor 105mm, but that is very different to this, so maybe there's some Zeiss magic going on.

And to this I will add the fact that I know I am incredibly lucky to own these two optical works of art - believe me it was a very long struggle to get here.

Anyway, I hope you like the prints (and the free pints too) - in hindsight maybe I should have printed Number Two lighter, but it was incredibly dark (in spite of what the videos above show) and especially (with the overhanging trees) very sombre. 

One and Four could have done with a tad of burning on the sunlit (!) patches and Three, well I could do no more with the sunny bits (but check out the Rowan leaves in silhouette!) but that aside (and you may not get it from the scans) the actual prints reveal great detail and are pleasing when looked at in a 'physical' dimension as it were.

So if you want to come round for a cup of tea and to have a look at them, let me know and I'll see what I can do . . .

Railway Cutting 1

Railway Cutting 2

Railway Cutting 3

Railway Cutting 4

And that's about it really. 

I rather like the last Sonnar one best of all. 

My eye keeps wandering around it and not settling on anything - it looks a mess, but then I see that soft Sonnar out-of-focus bit reflected in the water, all becomes right with the world in a way I can't put my finger on.

Dare I ask it, but is there an air of John Blakemore about it?

I dunno - possibly is all I'll say. But surely that can only be a good thing.

John is a photographic hero of mine and a master printmaker to boot, so I am aspiring to good things.

That can't be bad, can it?

The one thing that stands above even the results though, was my chance to totally immerse myself in the photo-making experience. 

Just to be swallowed whole by the light and the setting for a couple of hours (which might have seemed like 10 minutes or 10 days had I been thinking about it) was an unforgettable experience. 

It almost seems other-wordly in hindsight; my spirit took flight; my brain got out of the way and just let me be. 

The weird (and just remembered) thing is, that I don't think I made conscious choices of where to plonk the tripod, what to point the lens at and so on - I just went where the light and the land dictated. Whether this was all part of some inner-voice saying:

 "Cooo - would you have a look at that missus!" 

Or (and infinitely more appeasing to my normal frame of mind) was it the land itself and the mysterious machinations of trees and water and plants and soil playing out some quiet interplay with each other whilst the translator moved softly amongst them trying to pass on what his spirit heard them saying?

Questions of aesthetics and exposure did, to a large extent, vanish; I worked methodically and quietly making the most of the moment. I became lost in that railway cutting that nobody remembers - a short transition between rolling farmland, lochs and the soon-to-come upland hills.

It was pure pleasure.

I hope you all have the chance to become absorbed like this (maybe you have been already!) because it is like nothing else.

TTFN and remember, when the muse comes knocking, drop everything and go - they might not come around again for a while.

Stumbling Into The Light

You know there's that thing called a Preternatural Glow that can precede dawn (so long as it isn't overcast)?

Well, as a long-time very early riser, I can confirm that there is - it's my favourite time of day too and often brings to mind the best photograph I've ever seen in my life.

Well, at least it might have been the best photograph I've ever seen in my life, had I had

a/ a small tripod

and

b/ a loaded camera!

My Dad used to have this great saying: 

The Things You See When You Haven't Got Your Gun 

It's a great saying and in my case could easily have been applied to my photographic unpreparedness.

I was driving along near The Caterthuns in Angus - they're two iron Age hillforts outside Brechin and my goodness the view from the top is astonishing. Anyway, it was pre-dawn, really dark, and I was bumbling along a lane in my old Nissan Micra and there before me (outwith the reach of my headlight beams) was a spread of land that opened out from the high country I was in, for miles and miles downwards to the Eastern horizon and the North Sea.

It was like the land had been cut away for my pleasure and wonder and I had this downward slope of immense landscape to bask in; and there, huddled together in the field beside the road, was a smallish herd of cows.

I like cows - you know where you stand with a cow, anyway, this lot were all lying down, cudding away, and to a cow, were watching the dawn coming on in the same way I was.

The light was so faint it only lit them gently, but they all had a look of utter peace on their faces.

Cows appreciate the unusual and art - did you know that? It's true - whenever my Mum used to hang washing on our whirlygig washing line, it always attracted a herd of interested moos who would stand and watch for ages until they'd eaten all the grass nearby in the adjacent field and then wander off murmuring appreciatively. .

Anyway, I digress - I stopped the car on the tight verge, switched off the engine, rolled down the window and listened. There was a massive silence gently filled with warm cow sounds (no not that Jenkins . . . report to the headmaster immediately) and a sense of all not only being right with the world, but also a sense of peace which literally did pass all understanding.

It was incredible and had I a camera that could have frozen the moment, I would have done so and astonished people, but sadly, that was not the case, and so the scene is forever only imprinted in my memory until I shuffle off to the immortal skip . . .

But that was the glow, the preternatural glow. It softened and made so very beautiful the faces of the cows and draped itself so gently over the world that it turned the astonishingly ordinary into something otherworldly and timeless.

It was a herald of good portents for the day and lifted my spirit to soar upon the morning breeze (yes you've got to feed the inner caveman sometimes) and this is what it did.

Photographic, Silver Gelatin prints can have that glow too. 

It's a rare thing but does seems to be do-able. 

I've seen it in real prints from the masters at exhibitions, I've seen it in a wonderful book on the Maggie's Centre in Dundee, by Peter Goldsmith and I've also seen it in some incredibly early Photogravures from the pages of Camera Work. 

Incredibly to me, I've even sometimes seen it in my own prints . . . but it's rarer than rocking-horse shit, however sometimes you just stumble upon a combination that works.

In my case, it was FP4 rated at EI 80 developed in 1+50 Rodinal (well, R09) at 20C. 

The resulting negatives were printed on ancient, long-expired Agfa MCC at Grade 4 (100 Magenta on my DeVere head) - I've had to use this equivalent grade to bring the paper back to life - anything less and the paper is mud - my goodness though, I wish I had a dozen or so boxes of it.  

The prints were developed very ordinarily in Fotospeed developer, Kodak stop and Ilford fix and given standard Selenium toning for archival purposes. And that was it! Incredibly exposure was standardised at 16 seconds at f22 on my Vivitar lens, with a tiny (and I mean tiny) bit of burning judiciously applied here and there. 

There was no Split-Grade Faffing, no Wizard-Cape Theatricals, no Snake Oil - just straight printing. 

I often wonder with the screeds of books written about the darkroom dark arts, how much of it is snake oil. Get the exposure right in the camera, and printing should just come down to either expansion or contraction of contrast and a modicum of artistic license in the form of dodging and burning. To me, printing should be like that marvelous recipe your Grandmother passed down to your Mother - simple; any amount of tarting up just takes away from the utter simplicity of the original thing.

Anyway, scans below. Of course scanning can never duplicate the physical presence of a print, but you can get an idea - believe me, they do, on the whole, glow.

Please feel  free to comment - I am quite proud of these - they're printed about 8.5" x 8.5" on 9.5" x 12" paper and obviously I've cut the borders off to accomodate the image area in scanning . . . . 

Bruce Robbins reckons the look comes from a combination of light, surroundings and circumstance, and he could well be right. I'd set out to photograph some shoreline, but this being Scotland, it started pouring and I ended up getting stuck in the underpass bit of a certain well-known road bridge near me. It was really chucking outside, but inside it was weird and reflecty and damp and photographic! 

And yes, I know the third one has rendered me as a Brass Rubbing . . I quite like it. 

And I also know there's a bit of squintyness in the form of converging verticals - it was pretty dark in there.

Film as mentioned was FP4 - I like the look of it so much I am thinking it would be good to standardise on it - a truly great film.

And that's it really - I had a fantastic time photographing these and an even better time printing them.

TTFN and remember, pease pudding hot, pease pudding cold, pease pudding in the pot, nine days old.

Last Gasp Of A Dying Race

The selling of Harman is a worrying thing don't you think? 

I mean, I hate to get all panicky about it, but to be honest in the world we live in niche companies are shifted around like chattels, like a hareem as it were, and if that chattel under-performs, well, it's off with it, shoved further down the pecking order till no one wants to risk any money at all on it. 

For all the talk of the 'analog (sic) resurgence' is there really enough money in traditional photography any more to keep any venture capitalist interested? 

Really? 

Yeah, Boots might have started selling monochrome film (did they ever stop?) but like Tesco's recent trumpet-blast from the ramparts that they were going to 

"get back into the Vinyl Revolution Man . . yeah, we're sticking it to the kids . . we're selling the new Iron Maiden album . . ON VINYL! Er . . cough .  .well only in selected stores and only that album . . cough cough, and er . .cough . . . we'll see how it goes!"

Yeah right. 

See what I mean? 

Another niche market.

At the end of the day, venture capitalism is about business and profit. It isn't about lovely bonhomie and chap's agreements written on a beer mat over a pint of Samuel Smiths and a ploughmans down the local. Perhaps the final paragraph from the article in the BJP lends some creedence to what I have said:

“We remain totally committed to analogue photography, and indeed to all forms of imaging.  Our product range is uniquely stable and of the highest quality, and we can assure all of our customers that we will continue to support them in our customary way for the foreseeable future.”

Whiles Pemberstone’s plans for the storied photographic company remain to be seen, their comments suggest that the famous brand will continue to endure for the time being.

You see, I've got a big problem with that last bit . . "time being."

OK - I was on holiday recently, in Berlin actually (and thank you for asking) - anyway whilst there, I indulged in my usual casual holiday pastime .. camera spotting. 

It's FUN, you should try it, for there are now a billion cameras in the world - everything from super-giant, 80000 mm f.95 primes through to the ubiquitous phone and everything inbetween too . . with the exception of one thing.  

Film cameras. 

I saw one in 7 days - it was a Nikon Fm and was being toted by a young Japanese woman . . indeed it ONLY EVER seems to be young Japanese women with film cameras . . apart from me . . and this time I let the side down by only carrying the Canon EOS 50D. 

Seriously!

Spot a Leica? Young Japanese woman.

Nikon? the same.

I did once see a Minolta in the hands of a young teenager in Liverpool and a Trip in the hands of a family man in Jedburgh, but all too often, film cameras are nowhere to be seen . . . which makes me think . . well how many people are actually using film these days? 

Where is the renaissance? 

If it's happening somewhere else (from Dundee) then it certainly isn't in any of the places I have visited in recent years . . in fact film cameras could be said to be as rare as rocking horse shite, and that is pretty rare!

So who is using film? 

The Nocturnal Hordes of Photographers? 

The Early Birds? 

I've not encountered a single early bird using film apart from me and that's from years of photographing in Dundee - and this is a creative city . . honest . . it is!

As I have said before, I am a member of Scottish Photographers and every so often we have a get-together in Perth. These are wonderful sessions where no judgements are made and you can get to speak freely about what you have been up to, and people are genuinely interested too. 

It's a salve to the lone photographers soul and I love it . . but out of a room of often ten to fourteen people, how many use film? 

Well, often just two, sometimes three. 

And these are people who LIVE PHOTOGRAPHY. 

The numbers are tiny, and are they buying 20 rolls of film a month? Are they shite - they're like me - they use it, but not a roll a day - it's occasional use.

I reckon I must use around at a maximum 30 rolls of roll film (mixed 120 and 35mm) a YEAR. Sheet film - even less - I have a fridge full of it and it is starting to feel like it will finish out my life. 

So if I (as a committed and dedicated amateur) am not buying in numbers decent enough to satisfy the hungry investor . . who is?

Camera clubs? 

Nah, they've been digital for years.

Creative Institutions??

Hmmm - that's an interesting one - Dundee once had a proud and solid heritage of photographers educated here and photographers raised here by a strong grass-roots foundation. This is where Albert Watson was educated, and we now have the figurehead of Calum Colvin toted as being the prime example of being a graduate of Duncan Of Jordanstone, flying the flag for strong, bright, thrusting modern photography . . . but erm that's two . . 

Oh yeah? . . what about you Sheephouse? 

Well, that's three . . 

And of course, Joe McKenzie . . well he's sadly deceased, so one less . . . 

See what I mean?

About a year or so back, I spoke to a lecturer of the Digital Animation Department at DOJCA in Dundee. It was one of those chats that just get going - he was curious about the Minolta Autocord and I filled him in and offered to make his portrait at the same time (he refused) - anyway he said that whilst students were keen to explore the whole beardy/70's/analog (sic) thing and there were some facilities (they have a darkroom)  for pursuing it, it wasn't really pushed and there was a lack of knowledge to help them along! 

And this is in a creative institution.

OK - so how many rolls are they shooting then?
I spoke to someone else who said that the darkrooms at Dundee City Arts Centre (the DCA as it is known) are largely under-used.
Why?
There are plenty of courses - the oncoming tide of 'analog' (sic) photographers who are going to use all these traditional materials are going to need somewhere to go!
But really, can you see it?
I don't know what it is like where you live - maybe you're lucky and film still lives and breathes and there are hordes of folk buying it up like there's no tomorrow, but here in old Blighty I feel we're a sad footnote. There's simply no voice out there shouting at the oncoming dark.
As a traditional photographer in Britain you are that weird beardy Uncle that lurks around at family gatherings - people see you as history, and a harmless, impotent side-bar of history at that.
Analog (sic) is too hard.
As I've said before printing and making  photographs requires dedication and graft, and I feel that in an age where you're almost forced (by peer pressure) to upgrade your iPhone every 18 - 24 months or so, the amount of effort required to become really good at something that takes a large amount of cash and a dark space, is really far too much.
In a small sentence, we've lost the patience.
I get customers screaming down my neck if they haven't had their CD three days after they ordered it, how the feck are they going to pay nearly £100 for a box of 8x10" grade 2 Ilford Galerie which requires love, dedication and patience (that word again) from them to produce something from it, when they can instantly access something similar in mere nano-seconds on their phone and get a so-so representation of it squirted out of their inkjets?
Are people really bothered about the fine print?
Of paper lustre and greyscale and tone and the physical presence of a piece of paper with an image on it when our world is beset with images, is swamped with a billion new ones every day?
One isolated point of time.
One person's take on the world.
One effort that took TIME and CRAFT to produce?
Who gives a shit?
And when that shit hits the fan and Ilford/Harman aren't shifting the megabucks these investors require to keep their interests going (after all the whole point of investing is to make, not lose money) what happens then?
When the pay-offs happen what remains of the big words and promises?
In a nut-shell, where is your next roll of film going to come from?

***

So here's some old shit from yer weird beardy Uncle of some shit he saw and liked and then made photographs and printed, taking hours to do.
He can't be arsed spotting them, because the dust is from the scans, not the prints which are pristine and actually took about as much time to make as the scans (well . . not quite . . but I did hit upon the magic exposure).
At the end of the day, they're his shit take on the world and he's just using up some old film (Neopan 400 in 120 . . long gone - thanks Fuji - it was a gem) and printing on some shit old paper (10 year old real Agfa Multicontrast Classic - thanks Agfa - it was a gem) and toned with some Kodak Selenium (thanks Kodak - I love you) which is going to kill him in the end , but who cares?
Oh yeah and the camera was his shit old Hasselblad with the slightly more modern 60mm Distagon, but come the impending loss of 120 film they'll make nice paperweights - or the perfect weapon for a smash-and-grab . . .

Sunday morning, Dundee.

Love your wrist

Real men glow

And that's it - sorry if this is an incoherent ramble, but it is quite early in the morning and I haven't had enough tea. But who cares anyway?

Anyway, chocks away . . I'm off to carry an unfeasibly heavy camera into the wilds . .