I'm In The Phone Booth (It's The One Across The Hall)

So qouth Ms. Harry when I was but a tender bit of a lad and she was the one girl that every boy at Lockerbie wanted to date. They were heady days, were them 1978/79 days - all exams and hormones and in my case (woe is me) pain and loneliness.

But anyway, enough o' that guff, I think that was the point in time that the British Phone Box became cemented in my being. Jings it was expensive to actually own your very own wired phone in your own house; we had one at home, but I had to really think (and ask permission) if it was OK for me to phone Steve in London on a Saturday afternoon . . . and even when I could it was for a restricted time . . . London was a long way away!

And then I moved to this Lost City on the East coast of Scotland. Being but a poor student, I had to rely on phone boxes for saying hello to all the parts of my family that were roughly a billion miles away (well, they might have been in real terms). 

Yes I wrote letters, frequently, received food parcels from my Mum, received letters from Steve and not so much from the rest of my family, but if I really wanted to speak to someone that wasn't paper, then it was load up the 10p's and head to the nearest phone box. 

I guess you can say that I became acutely familiar with that strange mixture of stainless steel, and business cards, scratched polycarbonate windows and the delightful tangy whiff of the end of an evening well spent inside the box . . . 

(Why do guys pee in phone boxes? Probably the same reason they sometimes pee in their own wardrobes [true story . . not me] anyway, it's utterly disgusting, but when the next nearest box is a mile or so away, you put up with it . . .) 

The bog standard phone box became a feature of my life - a wee lifeline home.

So, a number of years back (after I'd given them up and had owned my own actual phone for a long time) it occurred to me that with the relentless march of personal communication these doyens of British public life were falling into a massive state of disrepair. 

I started looking at them seriously and realised that neglect was really nibbling their edges, so I started photographing them. 

Now obviously I could have made them formal, straight up and down 'portraits' but that wasn't in the slightest what interested me, because (rather like that heady mix of burned cheese and brick hard pasta at the end of a lasagne, or the wonderful carbonised pieces of meat and onion in the bottom of a cast-iron griddle after a well-fired steak) the interiors of these boxes were taking on a superbly gnarly, crusty 'air' of abandonment and reflections and light. 

They were like small worlds of utter strangeness that, though being a part of the general everyday scene, were, in themselves far apart from anything normal. 

It was this I saw and started to photograph.

I think I might well have been the first in this obsession, because I've quite a ton of photos of these worlds now, probably enough to have an exhibition with, and, more importantly,  I've not seen anyone else doing the same thing . . . stick that in yer pipe and smoke it. 

You read it here first, so don't go nicking my ideas.

Well, recently I've been a bad lad actually - no photographs taken with the M2 since last June which is just terrible isn't it. 

I'd loaded a film (FP 4) last September with a view to taking it to Edinburgh, which I did, but wanting to enjoy the experience and not just keep stopping to take photographs, I managed a scant handful, came home again and carefully stored the M2 away with the film still in it.

And months passed.

A few weekends back I thought I really must do something about it, so, a trip to the home of golf and use the film up, which I did. Results were developed in the now standard for me Pyrocat-HD.

But before I show them, I think I have also discovered the very best way to hold a Leica (in my opinion).
Up till now I've used a wrist strap mostly, and because of the relative lightness of the camera that worked really well.
I've also used a standard strap over my shoulder carrying it at about hip height, which didn't work so well, but then inspired by Ernst Haas and this self-portrait with a Leicaflex I started thinking differently:

Ernst Haas - Self Portait, New York, 1971

I really tightened up the length on my Domke Gripper strap, draped it around my neck and it worked like a charm.

Chest height is good, because you can simply hold the camera as you walk and stop it banging around, but it is always ready to go and not too far to move from chest to eye. 

With your camera fully around your neck, it sort of makes you look like a tourist which is also good. Plus if you get to look even a tenth as cool as Ernst Haas in that photograph then all is right with the world!

This is the way forward to me - I know it sounds basic, but comfort with the camera and also how the camera looks to the outside world is an important thing.
Like this you look a bit of a putz and less of a threat and I really don't think anyone would take you seriously . . . at least that's my opinion.

Anyway, enough of the obvious, here's a few boxy pictures - I've photographed this particular box many times and it always turns up something interesting - this time it's where UV is cracking all the film stickers on the box/booth.

Don't Fence Me In 1

Don't Fence Me In 2

I wanted to find more pictures of this box, but since changing over my system all my filing of scans has gone to pot, so I didn't find them, however I did chance upon these two, which were taken in Edinburgh (about a year ago with the M2 and the Canon 28mm; film was TMX 400 and it was developed in 1+50 Rodinal.)
I love these two, especially the last one, which gives me the idea of a sort of space age rendezvous, and I have no idea why!
One thing you'll notice when taking pictures of phone boxes is that to get in tight, you need a wide-angle and you will also be restricted by the dimensions of the box (ie. the framework of the box will nearly always intrude in some manner, be it a reflection or the thing itself) but it's worth it - focus on your point of interest  inside or outside the box and let happenstance take the rest of the photo . . the results are nearly always interesting.

Don't Fence Me In 3

Don't Fence Me In 4

Well that's about it. I've spared you hours of reading this time!
No doubt phone boxes are in danger in your part of the world too - document them if you have them - they'll not be around for much longer.
And tell them Sheephouse sent you!

TTFN, . . . .

" . . . thus spake Billy Fury, ten years ago . . . ten years ago, that's a long time ago. What is happening now, that's an interesting question. Now what is happening now . . . I'll tell you what's happening now . . . urgh, Jean Jeanie flies on her own man . . . 

We're getting rather frustrated with one thing and another, this is the solution . . . 

Violence, violence, it's the only thing that'll make you see sense . . . "

OK you need to be a Mott The Hoople fan to get that last bit . . . 

(D)Evolution Of The Leica Snapshot

Howdy folks - today we're going to approach something that was so much of a scene, so hep it never became popular!
It was out there but it never came back.
So strim yer goatee, dig out your snappy duds, put on some sides . . .
Dig?
And let's get going!

Any of you out there with Theo Kisselbach's "Leica Handbook" will no doubt have had a chortle at the photograph of The Cat (actually not just any old cat, but a German one, looking cool, and it's hard to be cool when there's no bread and the Communists and the Capitalists are talking about dividing your country) taking what became known as a Leica Snapshot.

Wot's a Leica Snapshot then Sheepy?

Well, technically it isn't a Leica Snapshot as Kisselbach describes it as a "walking snapshot", but you'll know what it is . . . camera held at a low, hip level (dig? man that's groovy) vertically or horizontally in your hand, your focus and shutter speed pre-set and your big old (but totally groovin') thumb on the shutter release. 

Then all you do is slide man . . . 

And . . .

Snap!

There y'go, outta sight, you've a groovy masterpiece forever y'dig.

Like you get a note in there between C and C# and that's its own sound y'know. I mean, you can't call it C because it isn't . . . that's like dig.
Dig means Dig.

If it doesn't hang you up, it doesn't make it as a thing.

You must excuse the hip speak baby (and its nothing to do with Fecking Austin Feckin' Powers either) no man, we're in Germany in the early 60's with a Leica M2, neat threads, and some crazy side someone got in the American Zone.
I am of course alluding to one of the greatest albums of all time by two loose wigs - namely Del Close and John Brent.

Try and find a copy, sit back and laugh.

Dig yourself baby, you've got a way to go.

Once you get used to it, insanity can be the most normal thing in the world . . .

And somewhere near approaching insanity is what the walking snapshot has done to me.

Sorry, but I couldn't be bothered to separate the two 'covert' techniques photos, so both are detailed below, but it's the Cat (left hand figure in left hand photo in case your sexing radar is a bit off today) and the bit near the bottom (last paragraph of the text) that we're interested in.
Man . . . modern life.

So here he is, a young Cat, in the park, sliding, digging the scene, impressing his admiring Fräulein Chick with his stone-cold skills, and she too is juiced, impressing him with her similarly boss covert stance - all she needs is some rain-threads and she could be that Walker Evans cat on the New York Subway in the 1930's:

"Look - stop moaning baby, I've set it to 1/500th and f16 dig?"

The book states the following:

So, the "walking snapshot" - it's a hip scene isn't it?

Isn't it?

Well, er . . NO!

Baby, it's as difficult a technique to master as becoming a Shaolin monk.
It's so hard, man, it fried people's minds, it chewed the carpet, it split the juice, it . . .
OK . . .I'll stop now.
Indeed, it is so bloody hard that it has largely fallen out of favour, because it is just simpler to go up to people and shove your camera in their face.

So just what is so difficult about it then?

Well, what Herr Kisselbach doesn't mention is that it entirely depends on three things that have to be absolutely right, namely:

Aim 
Momentum
and  
Timing

 . . . but you've been there man. You're a hep cat, you know the scene, you've sacrificed a roll or two to practice, but you blew your wig, you chewed the rug when you realised that for every shot that worked, you had ten that don't.
 

I've tried this technique a number of times now and whilst it certainly beats lifting the camera to your eye, that little frame of film is entirely at the apex of a vastly complex physical equation involving:

Speed
Time
Momentum
Energy
 . . oh and . . .
Random chance

It's like the whole of chaos theory wrapped up into that one tiny moment of time as you pick your moment, and Click! your finger digs the scene!

Of course you can do things to mitigate the whole thing, like being super-careful, not jabbing at the shutter release, suspending your body motion and poising for a brief moment and being totally aware of everything as it is happening, but it still doesn't seem to work.

In fact, with a bit of scouring around it seems close to Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle (just don't quote me on it)

But how does this relate to evolution?

Well, simply put, despite being a very small and sereptitious camera, the Leica in all its variations still looks like a camera, and it is big for such operations.

My thinking led me to the thoughts that if I don't mind a fixed focus lens I could use one of the smaller pre-noughties compacts and try it that way. The only problem with that, was that if using say an Olympus MjU, you've got that total bane of shutter lag, so I stripped that back and tried it with my lovely old Olympus Trip.

It was almost  a good camera for it - being that bit smaller. But it is still very much obviously a camera . . and not only that it has that stupid red flag that comes up every bloody time you have an interesting picture coming up, so you might be well-prepped and itching to go but at the last moment the camera decides "Nope - you're not wasting film on that!" and the shutter refuses to fire.

So I gave that up as a bad-show, and then happenstance and a kind gift from Bruce Robbins of Online Darkroom fame moved things along.

The gift?
A lovely Olympus XA2 in really lovely condition

In much the same way that the original Olympus XA was an evolutionary move on from the Trip, so, the humble XA2 was a move on from the XA, in that, there's simply nothing to complicate things.

It's simple.

Zone focus - you get a choice of three, close heads, heads and torsos, and mountains.

Automatic - set the EI/ASA and the camera does the rest for you, both aperture and shutter speed.

And it doesn't have anything that stops you from taking a photograph apart from a light in the viewfinder which tells you if things are getting iffy.

And then there's the main thing:  down low at hip height, held in your hand, it could look like a phone and no one pays a blind bit of notice of them do they?

Sounds ideal doesn't it!

Here's the tech specs:

    Lens D.Zuiko 35mm 1:3.5-22 (4 elements in 3 groups)

    Focal range 1.3m to infinity in 3 zones

    Shutter speeds 2s-1/750th aperture-priority automatic

Ally this with a super quite, super sensitive shutter (with NO shutter lag) and a wonderful wheel advance that is easily and discreetly moved by a few flicks of your thumb and you have a camera which is the ultimate in stealth!

I loaded it up and set off to work, winding and snapping like a good 'un. I couldn't even hear the shutter as I was moving, it being a focal plane/between lens elements job. Marvey!

It was a revelation to use - no one noticed, and I thought I had some stonking frames on my film.

And in came the wonder of film too, because unlike everything (or seemingly everything in life at the moment) this wasn't instantaneous gratification, nope, I had to wait . . to finish that long 36 exposure film and then the processing, and even then there was still no guarantee I had got anything at all worth using . .

But you know me - I can be obverse . . I love that aspect of photography where you see something good, take a photograph but just don't know whether it will be any good or not!

I suppose it is a form of oo! yah!, lay off with the split cane will you . . . masochism.

So where did all that waiting get us?

Shitesville, that's where!

Oops

Ditto

Bad Timing

Ditto

There's Something Perversely Pleasing About This One

Ditto - That's A Dog At The Left BTW

Pretty Boring  - But It Shows What Can Be Done With Care

Pick Up Thy Camera (To Eye-Level) And Snap

A Pretty Damn Good Little Lens Though - Shame About The Photographer

Y'see, the XA2's lens is fine, really fine, but you can't really tweak anything at all, the camera decides everything for you once you've set the focus and wound on, I mean you might well be able to get 1/750th at f3.5, but what use is that when you are trying to get a fair amount within the zone of focus? Sadly, for anything other than bright sunshine (this is Scotland - c'mon!) the XA2 and the "walking snapshot" don't really cog.

It's sad actually, because if you could just set it in stone and shoot, you'd have a very capable little machine, however if you live in sunnier climes, you might well find the XA2 to be a very capable little machine indeed.

So, I chewed some carpet, spat my spaghetti at the wall, dug what that crazy Gibson cat said and retired to my secret pad, to see if I could get the thing.

After much ruminating, goatee scratching, and bashing my brains against the lampstand, the lampstand came on, and I dug. I really did. 

It was crazy daddio, but first I needed to tweak the knobs.

If you've read FB for long enough (and if you haven't why not, it's a whole scene playing out in front of your eyes - a lot of people get it, some people even dig it) you'll realise there's nothing I like more than a bit of a tweak.

Pretty much the ultimate tweak for this sort of thing is a box-speed 400 ASA film, and a camera set at 1/125th of a second and f16. 

You've got to zone-focus baby, because, the zone is where it's at. 

Develop your masterpiece in some really aggressive developer (just in case) and let the film's latitude deal with any bad decisions and poor exposure. 

Oh and pray. 

Pray to Bird, or Monk, or Trane or Miles. 

Those cats are watching you. 

You'd better do them justice.

So I put the XA2 away, packed the crazy 1960 M2, but this time with the late '50's Canon 28mm f3.5 attached.
Sigh . . . here we go again . . .

Wides are cool. They dig the scene better than anything else, but you have to move those cats in close, closer than talc or else everything is too far out.

I dug what Ralph had said. 

I even dug where Sheephouse had excavated his technique and shoved it on a plate of loose beans in front of the modern world. 

Education man. 

Yeah, crazy.

Education. 

Helping others - that's a crazy scene.

So before setting out, I decided on mixing a bit of Ralph Gibson Experiment (Tri-X - 400 ASA, 1/125th of a second, f16 in sunny conditions, developed in Rodinal) with a bit of Zone focus magic. 

And what did I have

I had a thing.

A crazy, complex, small, simple and quiet Leica Snapshot Machine. 

The rain came out to play and so did I.

That's the edge of my threads . . . and Ali's nose

Ok - This Was A 'Proper' Photograph - But Dig That Krazy Kanon Glow!

This Chick Looked Fierce, But She Had A Collection Of Cakes In A Bag, So She Must Have Been Alright.

A Scene Going Down - We Vamoosed

She Was Concentrating On Pushing So Much, She Nearly Ran Me Down

They Were Concentrating On Their Destination Of Starbucks, They Nearly Ran Me Down.

But it never came off.

Sady The Uncertainty Principle caught me up in its complexity - you see what I mean, Shitesville City and all it's satellite towns too!

For all my care and even with a fixed fixed shutter speed and a bit more poise, I still found it utterly impossible to take what I would call a decent photograph.

This being said, I kind of like some of these in a crazy way.

There's a perverse sense that someday . . . maybe someday . . . something will turn out right and I'll get there.

But till then . . .

If you fancy having a go, by all means do . . . 

Just don't come blowing my horn when you're 2 rolls down and cracking your nut.

The 1960 Space-Age Time Machine

Morning!

Regular readers will know that a while back I bought a rather nifty old Canon 28mm f3.5 LTM lens. I was chuffed with said lovely piece of brass, chrome and glass and said so here.

Well, since then I've been bad . . nay . . not just bad, but neglectful . . you see I've barely used it, and I can't quite figure out why, because it's lovely to use and adds a certain air of early 1960's gentlemanly charm to my Leica M2 - they look the part don't they!

Tip Top - the 1960 Space-Age Time Machine.
(OK, so the Canon is a Type IV, mid-1950's model, but it didn't have the same ring to it)

I think my problem is, that up till now, I hadn't actually printed anything properly that I had photographed with it.
Notice I say printed, because although I had scanned some of the negatives made with it and had done a few initial crumby work prints on RC paper, I hadn't actually spent a huge amount of time in the darkroom with real quality photographic materials.

Well more fool me, because as such, I was entirely unaware of how fantastic the little Canon was for (how shall we say) . . ahem . . 'vintage tones'.

There, bugger it, that's all the remaining nice ones in the world snapped up by digi-twitchers in search of the unattainable. 

Oh yeah I can hear it now, "It's a bargain in current terms  . . . blah blah blah . . . impeccable build quality . . . blah bloody blah"

And you know what, for all that the world has progressed; for all that digital photography is the be-all and end-all; for all that all but a hard-core of junkie film users even pay attention to such things, I still think there's a hankering for The Golden Age.

You know, Eugene, HCB, Ansel, Wynn, Minor, Paul, Walker etc etc etc.

Their photographs have 'that look'.

"What's that Sheephouse?" I hear you cry .. "What look might that be man, and how does one attain it?'
Well, it's the look of liquid silver.
Of greys that shimmer with depth and airiness.
Photographs of timing and composition and skill made by people that relied on their innate human creativity and not the splurge of a billion frames a second in the cause of hoping to 'capture' something . . anything . .  worthwhile.

It's THE LOOK man, and if you need an arse like me to explain it to you, then you jolly well need your eyes tested!

In short (or long) it is nothing short of why I wanted to photograph in the first place and why I don't think I have ever really achieved my goal and go on searching. (There, how's that! I've hobbled any photographic achievements I have ever achieved). But it's true.

It's also a look I don't really see at all these days and I think the reason for this (apart from the obvious one of completely different materials from then to now) is down to a certain hiccough in the world of glass: coating.

An uncoated lens as you'll no doubt know delivers flare and often low contrast (caused by the flare).

A single coated lens will deliver more contrast, and slightly less flare.

A multi-coated lens has precious little flare, but tons of contrast. True, the little Canon is I believe multi-coated, but it's 'soft' (not physically, but visually) - there's no way you'd get the same look from a modern lens . . 

And then there's coating and coating - stuff that is so soft you could just stare at it and it marks, stuff that is so hard you can smash it against a brick wall, but all of it made with the thought in mind that contrast is better than flare.

(There's a stupid caveat to this too - I recently had the chance to handle and see the results from a couple of Lomo panoramic cameras . . and you know what . . they didn't have the look, even for their so-called 'lo-fi' cache . . . and actually, thinking about it, pinhole camera results don't have the look either  . . at least they don't to my eye. I experimented in pinhole years back and found it to be a faff for something that I just thought was so-so. If you want dreamy and out-of-focus, you'll have to go LF and back to the earliest of barrel lenses (or the misuse of close-up lenses) in my humble opinion . . . anyway . . that's another story!)

So what is the dashed lens bringing to the party, given that a pinhole has no glass??
It's impossible to quantify for me - maybe if I were to read Arthur Cox's Photographic Optics, I'd understand completely, but for now, let me say that the lens acts as a (oh goodness . . . here he goes again) sort of surrogate portal to a different reality.

Now if you could just hold on a min whilst I get the sleeves of this straight-jacket sorted, I'll try and explain myself. Think about it, it does. You're shoving a three-dimensional world, down a narrow piece of metal and glass, to work its magic on a piece of sensitized material and then you are chemically altering said material, and then you are bringing what was once three dimensions into the 2D spotlight of a piece of sensitized paper. In other words, you've stopped time, and transformed 'reality'!

Hah, bet you never thought of photography like that and to me, it is all the more incredible for it.

Your print is an alteration of reality. Yes it is reality (mostly) and yet it is far removed from it.

Of course I could just be wittering a load of old shoite, but if it gets you thinking differently, then I am happy.

Ah, that's better, the tea is starting to kick in and whilst I've spilled half of it down the front of my nice new jacket, I can feel its calming properties . . . so, where were we? Ah yes, coating and contrast!
I think therein lies the problem.
The world simply isn't a contrasty place. It can be, but on the whole, no, it isn't, not really.
Same with your eyes.
Can you honestly say you see everything in razor-sharp, super-contrasty HD? Nope, me neither. Infact, centrally whilst everything is fine, peripherally, the world is a blur.

Stare at something backlit, and I have a low-contrast, flare-ridden mess with blur and my eyelashes take on sunstars!

Totally imperfect and that to me is what is lacking in most photography - that air that the world is imperfect and that light is transitory and always changing. I'm sorry, but the hyper-sharp, hyper-toned, hyper-coloured "reality" that gets toted as photography these days looks to me as fake as a plastic surgery disaster. 

It has nothing to do with how humans see the world and everything to do with the damned idealism with which we are encouraged to view everything in life. I mean, what happened to human frailty and mistakes?

You know, I almost hate "perfection", but I really LOVE real perfection.

To wit, I recently ate a Spanish vanilla cheescake at a tapas restaurant that was so good I started crying - it was perfection - you can ask Ali. Honestly - it sounds daft but it is true and gives you an idea of the sort of person you're letting inside your head with all these thoughts.
I'm thinking about it now, and I'm also thinking this picture by Mr. Edward Weston from 'The Family Of Man' exhibition and book, this too is perfection:

If there is one picture in the world that has made me want to sell everything and purchase a 10x8 camera, it is this. When I first encountered it in an original copy of 'The Family Of Man' book, I was gobsmacked - the composition and the tones, the artful 'looseness', the light and simply everything about it states "Master Craftsman At Work". It looks casual but is anything but; there's contrast, yes, but it's not too contrasty. You don't get the full measure from the screen, but there's suitable detail in the shadowed trouser area, from correct exposure, and there's also flare, but skillful processing and printing have rendered that a pleasing part of the whole - it's pure craftsmanship - the contrast is provided by the light and the processing, not the lens.

I wish I could make something as powerful

This by Mr. W.Eugene Smith, this is perfection too:

NYC Harbour. July 1956. Nun waiting for survivors of SS Andrea Doria

To me this is up there as one of the finest 35mm photographs ever made.

Look at is closely - it isn't sharp at all, anywhere, and yet, Oh Goodness - WHO CARES?!

It speaks to the soul in a way that is hard to define - pure genius.

Imperfections besiege us as photographers, and that is part of the fun to my mind. As I've said many times before, developing a film is like paraphrasing Forrest Gump 'you don't know whatcha gonna git', because your technique can be down pat and perfect, but for all that, there is still room for mistakes and wonder, for happenstance and joy. For surprise. For humanity and glitches and weirdness (like the reflections that I wasn't aware of in the third print below).

And so, sorry to say, it is on to me and my stuff, after all that's the whole point of these exercises isn't it . . me, me, ME!

These were grab shots off of two different films made whilst away in Edinburgh for a bit. Film was TMX 400, developed in 1:25 Rodinal. I reckon I was shooting at about 1/125th at f11 or f8 with the tiny Canon 28mm and the M2 combo.

Strange to say, I think they almost look made up, set up and contrived and yet these were as they happened and totally disassociated from each other. The only parameters being time and walking around in different places.

See what you think.

?

??

!

I might be marking my card here and putting myself up for criticism, but to my eye, they sort of have that look. Again, you are hard pushed to get it off the screen, but in real life handling the prints, the highs sparkle a bit, the mids are creamy and dreamy and the blacks contrasty, but not overtly so. I am happy with them, which I suppose is the main thing.
They were printed on some ancient 10x8" Adox Vario Classic - a variable contrast, museum weight paper that hasn't been made for a few years now - and developed in Fotospeed print developer and then toned in Selenium for archival purposes. It's a nice combo, and I've filed them away as a sequence in some archival print sleeves. I am a happy bunny.

Here's another print from the same films, this time made in (if I remember rightly) St Andrews - can't remember what the occasion was though . . . 

Hungry?

Again, this is filed away archivally - I am chuffed, and do you see what I mean about the look from the lens? I am delighted with it and how it has interacted with Kodak TMX 400 (a bloody fine film) and with 1:25 Rodinal. This is a seriously good combo - grain is remarkably well controlled and (with some judicious gentle agitation) very unobtrusive to my eyes.

What I like about this photograph and print is the silveriness of everything and also that the machine by the door of the 'van, looks like an abandoned robot from the 1960's. It was probably made at 1/125th at around f16 (the exposure you fool . . not the robot). Detail is great too so I am asking myself why am I not using this lens more?

Well, I suppose the 90mm Elmar supplanted it (having been bought in haste at a bargain price) and I have really enjoyed using that, but for now and maybe into the Summer, I am heading out with the Canon. It's a testimony to the quality of Japanese engineering.

Happy days!

And that's it, so till next time, take care and get yourself out and take some photographs, and if you can, if you truly truly can . . please make some prints on real 'wet' photographic paper. 

You might well get a surprise.

Old Lenses And Long Stories (Part Two)

Greetings folks! I trust you haven't scratched a worry-patch into your hair with waiting to see how I got on with the Canon 28mm f3.5 lens and pushing film.
Phew, that's alright then.
Well, yes, it might well have been a worry, however worryeth no more, for Saint Sheephouse is here to asuage your ills and make all well with the world, whilst the meadow of your life is filled with happy bunnies, beautiful flowers and an endless supply of your favourite film.
Oh yes, there's precious few that get to revel in the golden glow of Saint Sheephouse's bounteous gifts, however today is your lucky day, because I decided last week that if the Pope could canonize people then so could I - so I canonized myself and hence my new title.
I mean no offence by this (honestly, I don't) it's just I feel that maybe we should all be a bit more Saint-like in all things . . y'know, just try and live better and happier and be kinder, more thoughtful and respectful of other people . . it isn't difficult y'know.
Besides, just to prove to myself I did the right thing, Saint Sheephouse has rather a regal ring to it dontcha think? I like it, but I don't think I'll be signing anything with it just yet.

Anyway - the premise for this weeks post:

1950's 28mm, f3.5 Canon Rangefinder Lens

1960 Leica M2

Kodak Tri-X, pushed to EI 1280

Using Garry Winogrand as inspiration.

I'll confess to you now, the last thing didn't work

You see for all my good intentions, there are a few factors which come into play. Firstly, making photographs in a small city like Dundee is difficult. People are deeply aware of you photographing them and it looks a little odd. Allied to this, I simply don't have the balls and lightning reflexes and proper gut-instinct, that Garry must have possessed. I don't know how he did it, I really don't - he moved like greased-lightning, made people smile and took great photographs.

However, I'll chalk this up as a possible new learning experience, as it's always good to do new stuff, and I also discovered during a conversation with a bona-fide ex-police dog trainer last week . . . ta-da:

YOU CAN TEACH AN OLD DOG NEW TRICKS!!

Oh yes, that old chestnut is off the cards now, because dogs can be re-trained apparently. The bloke was fascinating and it would be nice to think he could help me with my reticence and lack of confidence in approaching strangers (I am only reticent with a camera . . not in general conversation) - but as I say that is for the future. In the meantime and for the purposes of this Blog, I took pictures my way and of objects I enjoy photographing.

So where to start. Well, here's some detailed pics of the lens, so that if you are so inclined, you can make some executive decisions about it and then go and politely ask your partner if it would be alright . . .

This isn't just a wide angle lens . . it's an 'Ultra-Wide'

                                    

Suitably  'Space-Age'

Front View Of Aperture Blades

Rear View Of Aperture Blades

Slight Distortion Of Viewfinder

View Through The Oblong/Curvy Window

And there you are - beautiful isn't it - I especially like the fact that the rear view of the aperture blades seems to resemble a machine-made version of Hokusai's masterwork 'The Great Wave Off Kanagawa'.

  

See what I mean? I wonder if that was intentional, seeing as the original name of Canon's rangefinder lens line was Serenar (apparently named after the Sea Of Serenity on the Moon) . . if you think like that, mix in a bit of zen-like happenstance, then you can sort of see where the designer might have been coming from.
Its handling it is a little different to yer bog-standard, normal-sized, muckle-fisted lens; it is very very small, and quite difficult to use quickly, but I've found that because of the great engineering and with the aperture and focus being really smooth and really positive, its smallness is no detriment.


So here we go then, film loaded, adventure trousers fully-primed and ready for whatever the world might throw at us!

1/1000th, f8

Well, it was a bad start as this was only time in my life I've been tutted when photographing.

I thought to myself I know I'll snap these two and try and go a bit Winogrand . . as you can see I failed dismally and was tutted to boot - that really put  me off, so I thought fceck it . . I'll do things my way . . so I did.

1/1000th, f5.6

This is more like it - definitely my sort of photo - incredibly this eyesore has greeted rail and road visitors to Dundee's Centre since Christmas 2013.

I've made lots of photos of this hoarding before and it has had a number of fantastic and vandalisable posters on it . . but this I think sums things up. Yes we have upmty-tump millions being spent on the V&A being built and the whole waterfront getting done up, however at the end of the day, you can't stop the vandals! 

Oh, and in the Canon viewfinder the edge of the hoarding was hard up against it's left edge optically, so I got a surprise bonus bush and a mental to-do note about approaching the finder in a Gumpian manner . ..

"Life With The New Canon Is Like A Box Of Choclits . . You Don' Know Watcha Gonna Git . . "

1/500th, f16

I've made it a semi-mission of mine to take pictures of Phone Boxes before they disappear altogether. Can people even remember back 10 years when they were everywhere? I like them- they're interesting and often vandalised. This one was in the University of Dundee Campus, and it contains no phone, just lots and lots and lots of poetry! It is hard to make out from the scan - as I said, a print would transform it, however I haven't had the time to make any.

1/500th, f5.6

Again, Dundee Uni Campus to the rescue. I initially thought this was a man acting all enigmatic, however I soon discovered it was a cardboard cut-out! Hard to make out from the scan, but again a print would sort it.

No idea who he is though . . .

1/250th, f11

Gumpian slip - that is my camera bag in the lower part of the frame. I just like this and I don't know why.

1/1000th, f8

That 'La-La Crew' have been super-busy of late. I really like this as it has the tonality I have been looking for for a while. It reminds me of Wynn Bullock and Paul Caponigro and Walker Evans later work.

1/60th, f8

This delightful looking piece of concrete is an abandoned building on the Uni Campus. I've made tons of photos of it and have never got tired of photographing it either. . however now, it will no longer be a grounds for inspiration as it is being boarded up after a particularly spray-heavy attack. That's progress!

I'd love to get inside for a few hours.

1/30th, f16

I have photographed these doors many times and I think this is almost the definitive photo of them - I'll be sad to see them boarded up. The tonality on this is outstanding to my eyes - there was a massive tonal range and the lens and film combo has done its best to capture it in a hard-edged way that I rather like.

1/30th, f4

Them doors again - the creativity of the spraying is quite something - I think a lot of these guys would be decent artists if they didn't limit themselves

1/30th, f5.6

Another Sheephouse Shpeshull. Just the sort of shot I enjoy making. The white stuff is polystyrene beads . . they used to be outside the doors but somehow made their way in over a long period of time.

1/30th, f4

Yeah . . me too. 

More details from my favourite corner.

1/30th, f4

It's refreshing to find a lovely unmodernised close in a tenement building and this is one of them. At one time, back in the days when secure entry systems only existed on posh flats, this was par-for-the-course in Dundee. Honest, when I first came here in 1980 it was truly the arse end of nowhere - everyone wore flared trousers (or seemed to); very real violence existed because of its teenage gang culture (gun-free of course, more a solid battering from about 20 pairs of boots); there were derelict buildings all over the shop and it's staunch working-class history was writ large everywhere. It was tough, and I felt like a right old softie.

It's greatly improved these days with a hard-edged charm, and soon to be mucho-improved with the addition of the V&A (hopefully).

1/15th, f4

It's hard to imagine anyone leaving a pram anywhere these days isn't it, yet here one was and nice little line of baby-things drying in the back closie, so I quickly nipped in, snapped my snap and nipped out again with a smile on my face.

1/500th, f8

This is weird isn't it, not least for the fact that the two guys on the 'Whizzzz' poster were looking my way. This is the sort of shot I love taking because it is unclear as to what is going on. The Canon has done a sterling job in cramming as much 'stuff' onto the frame as possible . . well done little chap!

1/500th, f8

The combo of underexposure and over-development has achieved a nice photojournalistic effect.

1/1000th, f8

Same as above - This is a little homage to Walker Evans - I have tried to photograph this setting in this way for as long as I can remember, but I have finally achieved it with the 28mm . . now I can rest!

1/1000th, f8

World's worst selfie!
Och well, some you win . . this is underexposed and not developed enough, so I have had to pump the lightness of the negative a bit so it looks pretty shite doesn't it. I should properly print this with some selective bleaching - that would work. I like the vignetting on the sky - reminds me of David Bailey's 60's stuff . . but poorly executed . . .

And there you go - the eagle-eyed amongst you may have noticed from all of these that there's vignetting on just about every one, however moving to f11, f16 and beyond it vanishes, so if you are trying to use this lens in a wide-open super-fast 'street' manner, bear that in mind. For myself, I like the vignetting - it will mean I no longer have to 'set' a print into its field by adding extra exposure to the side parts of every print - fan-bloody-tastic!

And now a word on processing:

OK - film (Kodak TXP 400 . . Och . . Tri-X then) was rated at EI 1280. It was developed in a small tank, in Kodak HC 110, Dilution B at 21° Centigrade. 

I gave the film a 3 minute water-bath prior to developing and started with gentle constant agitation for 30 secs, and then gave 2 very gentle inversions every 30 seconds up until 12 mins. At 12 minutes I gave it 4 gentle inversions and then left the whole thing standing still until 16 minutes. 

Stop, fix and wash were all bog standard.

You would think that 16 mins in HC 110 Dilution B would result in extreme overdevelopment but it doesn't - I think I got it about right actually.


Right so lets abandon the scans and do some stuff that film was invented for, namely making prints.
I had a good session with this lot, though didn't make as many as I wanted, however these will suffice.
They're all printed on Ilford Galerie, Grade 2.
Developer is Wolfgang Moersch's Eco, which is a very slow worker with most papers, but we're hitting the three and a half minute mark on Galerie; it is a lovely developer though and lasts for ages, so it is worth the effort.
They were fixed in 2 baths of Amfix, untoned and washed in my old Paterson Archival Washer.
Air drying gives Galerie the most incredible gloss, which unfortunately you can't see.
I'd be happy to exhibit any of these, not that that will ever happen, but one can dream.

Bike Shed. Dundee University, 2014

Self Portrait. Abandoned Building, Dundee University, 2014

Abandoned Building, Dundee University, 2014

Whizzzz. BT Phone Box, Dundee Waterfront, 2014

800 DPI Sectional Enlargement. Ilford Galerie Grade 2.

You can see from the above enlargement that the Canon is none too tardy with regard to detail - bear in mind this is Tri-X pushed to EI 1280 and developed in HC 110 - grain isn't half as bad as you would expect, and the texture of the backboard has been rendered nicely. Result!


And that's it. Hope you've enjoyed this half as much as I have in making it.
My hat is firmly tipped to those Japanese designers of the 1950's who got the backs of Leitz up so much that it set them about designing one of the world's all-time great lenses . . the Summicron - and if anyone out there wants to lend me one (a Summicron that is) I'll happily set up a shoot-out.
Until next time, look after yourselves, take care and keep taking the tablets.