f5.6 And Pray

Good morning to you - and if you are living through a PVD, my sympathies. Since manifesting itself in June it has become somewhat of a bane. My eyes run the gamut from crystal clear and sharp with blurry bits like the tail-ends of ghosts drifting around, to full-on, low-light blur. 

It is very very difficult to take photographs under such conditions - especially with an f4 lens as I was doing here and in low light too - well, more like unbelievable sunshine and deep shadow. But I got there, hence the title of the post.

Let me say this - hyper-focal focusing is a total Godsend!

I can honestly say that this is hardly the most inspiring set of photographs I have ever taken and in reality probably a total waste of a fiver's worth of HP5+, but sometimes you just have to go out and do something.

I've found photography, for me, to encompass:

All consuming times where everything clicks

Non-consuming (but fun) times where nothing really clicks but you enjoy yourself

Load, wind, look and snap - a semi-pointless exercise where nothing works

and

Explore, click, but what is the point?

This was the latter, where you go through the motions, find some places you've not been to, but still take photographs even though you know the end result will be fairly pish.

I've had a deep urge to photograph in heavy undergrowth in recent times, however it isn't always easy to find - or currently to deal with!

I've done The Gulch a few times and only want to go back there when I have got the IR filter thing on the Hasselblads sorted out - a vastly expensive and frustrating exercise.

So for this waste of time, I decided to re-tread my old stomping ground around the back of Duncan Of Jordanstone College Of Art And Design, or DOJCAD as it has been snappily acronymed.

Actually that acronym seems to change on a yearly basis, so I might just stick with Russel T. Hutcheson's wonderful Drunken Disorderly (and yes I know it isn't an acronym).

You know, its funny, I must have dozens and dozens of photographs of this place, but I've probably only printed a handful.

David M (a worthy commenter and reader of FB) commented a few posts back that I always seemed to be taking pictures of barriers (sic); ways blocked; doors; windows; reflections, and that metaphorically I was in a way photographing my own inhibitions.

It set me thinking and I kind of agree with him, however in the case of endlessly rephotographing DOJCA, what I think I am doing is subconsciously documenting my own failure to pursue a path in the creative industries.

I suppose I am desperate to get back in.

Or rather not get back in, but actually get in per se.

OK - mini-rant coming up - take it or leave it:

It's taken me a long time to realise, but deep within, I've an urge to teach people how to use film and how to print the results - I guess I would call it McKenzie Syndrome.

For a small part of my life Joseph McKenzie (go on look him up!) gave me the opportunity to learn a craft skill from which I am still learning - Darkroom Work. I've said it before, but printing in a darkroom is one of the greatest, most frustrating, but ultimately fulfilling parts of photography.

I almost feel that without that ability to print your negatives on proper 'wet' paper (with all the associated smells, the red light, the tactility) you're like a one-legged sprinter.

I know it's probably just me and where I've come from in a craft manner, but to my mind, the two go hand in hand, and no, scanning (yes I know, I do a lot of it) and ink-jetting really is not the same thing.

Rant continued, in which your author goes all misty-eyed and attack puppy all at the same time:

A few weeks back, I spent a couple of hours with the SWC/M, a roll of SFX and a Lee IR filter, carefully composing and taking some cracking (to my blurry eyes) photographs in a IR-stylee.

Thing is, had I been a bit more sussed (coor remember that "You're coming with US, We've got you on SUS" - The Ruts!) I'd have realised and known that the Lee filter is entirely the wrong thing for Ilford SFX because it transmits Nm more suited to 'proper' infrared film, rather than SFX's HP5+ in a splangly mankini (which is what SFX is really).

Consequently when I developed said film I discovered that I had a whole roll of blurry reflections of the SWC/M's filter ring!

Oh how I larfed.

Anyway, that's all an aside, whilst lurking, yes lurking, around the back of the College, I saw a young chap with a camera, totally absorbed in what he was doing, and photographing the same things (sic) that I had been photographing. So I stopped him and started chatting.

He's a Fine Art student, finished his Foundation Course and has put in to study Painting and Photography in Second year.

And of course, the dam burst and I couldn't shut up.

I quized him, advised him, recounted tales of Joe McKenzie, asked him about his camera, showed him mine, found out that the photography department now only has TWO darkrooms, not the [if I remember correctly] SEVEN or EIGHT from my day.

Do you have any film cameras you can borrow?

I asked, because in Joe's day, there was a room stuffed to the gunnels with everything from old Takumar super wides for the ubiquitous K1000s, through to Sinars and their lenses, heading along the way with a mighty collection of Mamiya C330's (wot I learned my MF skills on).

His answer:

"Well, there's a cabinet with some cameras in it, but I am not sure whether you can borrow them."

I couldn't contain my disappointment. Why would you have a few cameras that might not even be for use, when (according to our young snapper and also something I heard from a lecturer in digital animation a few years back) there is a hunger for learning film?

Were it my department, I'd have a bunch of C330's again and also a bunch of Nikon F's (from a reliability stance that takes you from amateur to professional without missing a beat) and I'd be pushing the traditional; because to me, photography isn't just about wishy-washy art speak (and me and the young chap laughed about this); it isn't about re-treading the same poses and the same subject matter.

It's about trying to make it your own.

It really is about the craft of the thing.

Sure you can run and produce really rather top grade looking bits of work - it's relatively easy these days - but without a grounding in tradition, you're missing something.

I don't want to go all huffy on you, but to be honest, what is the point of a photography department or education these days?

Ah, that's stopped you hasn't it.

As we used to sing when young:

Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it!

Pickin' their nose and chewin' it, chewin' it, chewin' it.

Look around you - you're awash with digital imagery and to a man 98% of it all looks the same.

Even flicking through that august journal BJP, you spot the posed urban portraits (40 years and counting - the same pose!); the fecking awful landscapes; the bog standard fashion photography; still lifes that are as devoid of life as a collection of inanimate objects; street photography (which to my eye is utterly indistinguishable from one continent to another) . . but, and here's the kicker, pick up a BJP from 20 or 30 years ago and it is the virtually the same.

So what has happened to photographic education apart from the fact that it is now mostly called Imaging, and has an armoury of simple tools which produce professional looking results.

Well, I think what is missing is groundwork.

Sure there are some excellent educators out there and it is entirely up to the student where they go. But I dunno, were it to start in a way like, say:

"Here's a knackered old Minolta Autocord TLR - the lens is scratched to infinity, however the wonderful wee Seiko shutter works perfectly. It might feel like an old cardboard box falling apart when you wind on, but you'll get results if you're careful."

then things might be different.

Frustration with semi-adequate tools doesn't half sort out the wheat from the chaff.

So how does that work?

Well simply, if you have a hunger and a drive to do it, because you actually love it rather than are just doing it because you feel you have to . . .

Well . . you're an educated reader, you can put two and two together.

Struggle fosters desire - kicking against the pricks as it were.

You hunger to become better.

Your passion spurs you on.

You try harder.

It's all gone a bit aftershave adverty hasn't it!

But this being said, there's a lot of people out there in positions of influence, responsible for the direction and nurturing of future creative brains, who have got a long way, by producing . . . hmmm, just stuff and (more importantly) talking the talk.

Creativity is (or can be for certain people) an easy and well-paid activity - you just have to be lucky, or else really good - Mr. Joshua Cooper in Glasgow please take a bow - he walks the walk, talks the talk and seems to be one of the few old-school traditionalists still teaching.

Sadly though for some, it sems to have become a monthly pay cheque and a bit of a reputation.

They talk art speak and are accepted and unquestioned  - it's all as smooth as a James Bond. 

Look up your Port Glasgow colloquialism . . .

As I said to our young photographer (and he actually agreed) - if he really wanted to make it as an artist, all he had to do was approach anything with braggadocio and confidence and speak that speak, and nobody will take you down.

They're too afraid.

Art these days seems to be a world founded on utter bullshit - but then maybe it always was.

If you can glue Polo Mints in the shape of a cross to a bit of painted plywood and bullshit your way to a pass-mark by saying you think it symbolises your Granny giving you Polos to shut you up when she took you to Church, with conviction, then man, the Art World is yours.

That's my experience folks.

There is a point to all this - the sorry and real end for Joseph McKenzie (now called The Father Of Modern Scottish Photography) was that the department he'd built with love and love and love was considered old fashioned and was GUTTED in favour of the oncoming digital tide.

He and I spoke around 1991 and I got the impression that rather than being ignomanimously pushed out, he'd rather jump and so he did, into retirement and subsequent legend.

I wonder what happened to the Takumar Super Wides?

I guess that's why I rail against digital so much - it changed things, rather like having your childhood home bulldozed

Sometimes, progress, and I use the term loosely, isn't necessarily for the better.

I said all this to our (by now probably wondering what the hell was going on) young photographer.

I'm glad he agreed with me.

After assaulting his ears (and recommending some photographers) I bade him farewell and headed for home.

Phew! Sorry about that, I don't half get riled.

IF YOU SKIPPED THE ABOVE, IT'S ALRIGHT NOW, IT'S OVER, YOU CAN SIT DOWN AGAIN.

Camera was a Hasselblad 500C/M, lens a 150mm f4 Sonnar, and I had to use the Leitz Table Top Tripod to give me some bodily bracing.

I would normally detail the contact print here, but to be honest it really isn't worth it - the title of the post says it all - I could barely see a thing.

So here's the prints that I actually thought worth printing . . . should I have bothered?

This delightful little poster was posted on a window and I liked the way UV had aged the paste - fecking weird eh! - no, me that is, not the poster. Anyway, it's my favourite from this session.

It was 1/60th at f5.6.

This is the 'Fine Art' Department. I kind of agree with its epithet though - fines should be applied every now and then. 

I made the most of the gorgeous out of focus effects that a Sonnar can produce - it was 1/125th at f5.6.

Ah, our old mate - you know I have photographed and posted so much about this bit of graffiti I am surprised it isn't as famous as a Banksy.

It was a 1/15th at f5.6 - there's bracing for you.

The quote "Prejudice Births Malcontents" appears to come from computer game called Dark Souls and in a weirdly happenstance sort of way, this is what yer WikiP says about it:

Dark Souls is a third-person action role-playing game. A core mechanic of the game is exploration. Players are encouraged by the game to proceed with caution, learn from past mistakes, or find alternative areas to explore.

I shall say no more than that.

Anyway, and finally, your carers are coming soon and I'd better wrap up . . .

Briefly, I had great good fortune to find a box of Agfa MCC Fibre - unopened and cold stored - 5x7" and it was perfect.

It's an early warm-tone paper from the early-mid 90's and is bloody beautiful to use, especially at this image size, which is approximately 4½ x 4½ inches.

I lightly toned them in Selnium and it took the warmth down a tad - lovely.

It might seem daft to have such a capable camera system and then print so small, but they're little jewels of prints and I highly recommend everyone shooting square tries it.

This is a scan of an actual print - yes the border looks squinty-woo, but I've over-emphasised the right edge so you can see the actual edge of the print. 

I nearly typed pint there. 

Needs must and all that.

Mine's A Pint . . . Sorry, Print

Thanks for sticking with it - this was produced under very difficult circumstances for me old beady mincers - I think a visit back to the optician is in order.

Over and oot.

Beam me up Scotsman.

A Good Sesh

For the uninitiated in Dundee drinking culture, a "sesh" is basically a large amount of time spent down the pub. It's nothing like it used to be, but certainly does happen.
Maybe the same word is used elsewhere in Scotland . . . I know not. My drinking life began here - you'd need to speak to my pal Tzchic (NOT Chic, it's got a hard glottal 'k' on the end) about the niceties of what it was like back in the day. Quite something by all accounts, and maybe somewhat sadly for a balanced culture, the people he sesshed with are nearly all long gone . . . but that's another story or three (over a few pints).

Anyway, so, there I was, with a hillwalk planned, and  typically, I go on the MWIS site, and what do I find for the Angus Glens?

"White-out down to glen level".

Great.

So I called that one off - it is pointless risking things like that - the long and winding road to Glen Doll can be challenging when it is dry, so in a snowstorm, well, you're more than likely to run off the edge (there's no snow posts) or hit one of the massive ruts that are starting to appear.

(Not sure where anyone is in the country that reads this, but Tayside and Angus has some of the most shocking roads I have ever encountered, and they're only getting worse . . I think our next runabout should be a tractor or a Sherman tank actually.)

Anyway, no hillwalk, so . . .

Plan B?

Yeah, head over to Fife and do the rail bridge from the other side . . so there I was, ready to go, everything packed, and what happens, yep, just as the weather reports predicted, the sleet turned to proper big snow flakes bang on time for me leaving.

Allied to the shiteness of the conditions, the thought of operating a largish camera in freezing (or sub-zero) conditions is definitely not my idea of fun.

I got the message, turned tail, said feck it, AND HIT THE DARKROOM.

In hindsight, this was a sensible move!

A GOOD SESH

I've had a plan to do a bunch of 35mm prints for a while - I tend to stick to one format when printing simply because it's a mini-faff to change the lens and lens plates on the DeVere  - so, it was out with the Vivitar 100mm and in with the modernish 50mm f2.8 Nikkor in a recessed plate.

I gathered a bunch of negatives from my files (and their contact prints to keep me right) popped into the darkroom and off I went.

Oh and I forgot to mention - having been desperate (but time poor) to print on fibre paper for quite a while now, I thought:

Well, it's snowing - you've got the whole day you old fart . . get on with it.

So I looked out some ancient, and I mean ancient fibre-based paper.

Adox Vario-Classic.

It's so old it was discontinued in 2009 (!) and I'd had it a year or two when it was discontinued, so that makes it around 12 years old - not the most ideal of circumstances for the making of (hopefully) fine prints.

I wondered how contrast would be, so cleaned a negative, shoved it in the carrier and did a test strip on bog standard, un-filtered, nominal Grade 2..

Adox Vario Classic
Unfiltered Grade 2.
Exposure in 4 second increments.

And you know what . . well, you can see it can't you - the test strip was like looking at different gradations of a photo of a mud fish, sitting in mud, making a mud-pie . . in other words it was a tad muddy.

That's a big problem you can hit when using old papers.
Goodness knows, the way the world has gone with digital sweeping away that whole cash-cow of really, truly fine printing papers, there can't be many boxes of the old ones left any more, and those that are left well . . speak to Bruce at OD.
He has a box of Agfa MCC which is like opening a packet of grey mud inhabited by the denizens of mud city by all accounts.

I've tried the usual adding of benzotriazole to the developer and that has never worked for me - there are some workarounds on this, but to be honest, they all seem like a complete faff, when you could just go and buy a box of fresh paper.

Broadly speaking older GRADED papers, tend to survive very well if stored cool. Multigrade though can be a different matter.
Again, broadly speaking, I've found in my limited experience that old MG papers benefit from being exposed with filtration on the hard side - it just adds a tad of sparkle and lifts it above the mud.

But what about a box of paper with no instructions about filtration, and even no info at all on the web about such filtration - such was my luck with the Adox.
As far as I remember there were no such instructions when I bought it, and I seem to remember, even contacting Adox, such things weren't forthcoming, so I basically printed the majority of the box on that un-filtered Grade 2.

No wonder I never liked it!

Darkroom Life is a steep learning curve sometimes and, going on Ilford's own words, MG papers should generally be expected not to act like Graded papers . . in other words and to cut a long story short . . if you're going to use MG paper (even fresh stuff) expose hard.

As you can see from the test strip above, the natural cut of the jib of the Adox seemed to be mud - it was certainly a good deal muddier than I last remembered it and I was afraid I'd be spending a whole day producing prints that made me go 'Ugh'
So I threw caution to the wind and used the instructions for Adox MCC, dialling in an 'approximate' Grade 3 with 40 units of Magenta (in Kodak units used on the DeVere).

And . . . .

Weird Day
Nikon F, 24mm f2.9 Nikkor-N, Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD

By jingo, it worked! 

That's a pretty close Grade 3 - I was elated actually.

My 2B pencil scribbles on the back (what d'ya mean you don't do that? It keeps you right - get a good result and you have a master print to refer to should you need to make any more y'berk) read:

Adox VC, GR 3 (?) 40 M, 20 sec, f8, + 6 edges. HC 110 in developer.

Ah, the last bit - I can hear the nits jumping from your scratching.
Well, that last bit is a salient point.
I use Kodak Polymax; it's a good developer . . usually.
However, halfway through my current big bottle, I've found that solids have developed in the bottom of the bottle and any developer mixed up from it lasts around 2 sessions at the most.

In the past (and you'll laugh) when I've noticed developer/print emergement time starting to slow and not wanting to have to exit the darkroom and make up some more chemicals, I've adopted the guerilla tactic of (cue embarrassment) squirting neat developer into the tray.
What can I say.
IT WORKS, noticably upping the emergement of the image and also, to a flat image, adding a tad more contrast.
You should try it.

Anyway, there I was with the above print, and (given the high silver content of the Adox) it was taking forever, to start to cog - I think I was on near enough 4 mins - luckily I had the safelight off - but enough was enough.
I tried to squirt some Polymax into the tray and discovered the fecking solids jammed the mouth of the bottle tight!
Oh the drama, and in the dark too! 
What did squirt out, missed the tray altogether and splattered me.
And then it hit me - a thought once spotted somewhere - using Kodak's HC 110 as a paper developer.

I haven't used it as a film developer in a good few years now, but I still had some in a well-sealed air-tight bottle, and seeing as it seems to be a glycol-based developer, I thought it should still be OK, so (still in the dark) I found the bottle, whipped the top off and dumped a bit in the tray.

And it worked.
Using my wee safelight torch (Jings they're expensive these days) I saw the image proper, emerge tout suit.

I was, to say the least, chuffed.
Jabber ✔✔

Whether the HC 110 has made any difference to the tonality of the print or not, I know not, but it did bring the image to completion.

Anyway . . . extremely pleased that I'd got way more than I was expecting, I piled more meat in the mincer . . .

 . . . Next! . . .

March Of The Seed Heads
Nikon F, 24mm f2.9 Nikkor-N, FP-4, Pyrocat-HD

The eagle-eyed will have seen this one before.
It was a lovely hot day in Fife and me and t'missus were on a picnic - the seed heads looked utterly manic to me - even though they're still, there's enough movement to make them look like they're on the march.
I wish I could have got that lower bit of hedge out of the way, but that would have involved tearing my trousers on barbed wire.

I love the feeling the single-coated Nikkor has given to the scene - it is a very fine lens.

Print notes:

Adox VC, GR 3 (?) 40 M, 28 sec, f8, + 6 edges. HC 110

I was a happy bunny ✔✔ actually - spurred on, with a quick visit to the living room for a cup of java, I continued.

 . . . Next! . . .

Dreams Flow
Nikon F3, 28mm f2.8 Ai-s Nikkor, Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD

Sometimes (as seems to be my experience of 35mm) you use a whole film . . and only one image strikes you as worth printing, and such was the case with this one.

It was a heck of a windy day and me and the wee one were out for a walk in lovely Perthshire. I saw this pool coming up, dodged off the path, slipped a bit in the mud and took the photograph.

Little did I realise that the water movement, wind movement and happenstance would dress the frame in such a way as to give it a dream-like quality. 

Look at those leaves on the right bit of water . . they look like they've been carelessly strewn by a Faery Queen. 

The 28mm Nikkor has done a sterling job - pretty good levels of detail for a fast film.

Print notes:

Adox VC, GR 3 (?) 40 M, 36 sec, f8, + 6 edges. HC 110

To paraphrase Nigel Molesworth's Christmas Present list:

Happy bunny again?
Oh YUS! ✔

  . . . Next! . . .

Fay's Pool
Nikon F, 24mm f2.9 Nikkor-N, FP-4, Pyrocat-HD

Ah, the mighty Fay - I never intended to copy her, but, well what else can you do with a similar day and the same subject matter?

MY Print notes:

Adox VC, GR 3 (?) 40 M, 26 sec, f8 base, + 6 edges + 4 lower right quadrant. HC 110

And now how it should be done:

Fay Godwin, Belstane, Druidic Gathering Place, Fife

She probably wasn't using a Nikon though . . . and to be honest, her photo knocks mine into a cocked hat!

When was the last time you saw someone wearing a jaunty tifter, cocked and ready for action?
Hmmmm . . . . . thought not.

Still I wasn't going to let this put me off.

Happy ✔✔

 . . . Next! . . .

All Welcome In Europe
Nikon F3, 28mm f2.8 Ai-s Nikkor, Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD

You know, for a free standing, relatively prosperous European nation, the subject of racism isn't too far from the forefront in Belgium.
Blame it on the oldies blaming the EU for free movement; blame it on a past that saw 15 million Congolese murdered . . the sudden departure of Belgian Imperialism throwing Congo, Rwanda and Burundi into chaos . . . whatever.
The society wears its social divides on its sleeves, unless you're young, in which case you see all races mingling properly and with good nature.
It's changing slowly . . . well maybe that's stretching things a bit.

Print notes:

Adox VC, GR 3 (?) 40 M, 22 sec, f8, + 4 edges. HC 110

The poster was on a large wall behind our hotel - I quite liked the fact that all the 'blackness' had been picked away by someone with too much time and energy on their hands.
It niffed terribly of urine next to it, so maybe it was some post-beer leisure time.

Bunny ✔✔
Jabber ✔✔✔✔

 . . . Next! . . .

Does Your A-i Love You?
Nikon F3, 28mm f2.8 Ai-s Nikkor, Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD

I took this in Atomium (in Brussels - it's an extraordinary place - really, you should go - you'd have a blast!) and rather liked the fact that this mirrored surface turned everyone coming up the escalators into some strangely formed bulbous robot.
Well, you can't beat your brain for entertainment.
My poor wife stood by whilst I was doing this - I truly believe my photographic actions baffle her sometimes.

Print notes:

Adox VC, GR 3 (?) 40 M, 24 sec, f8 base, + 6 top and bottom, + 10 left and right. HC 110

Look at the contrast on that - it's got that polished stainless steel look perfectly (to my eyes).

Happy ✔

Bunny ✔✔

 . . . Next! . . .

Leaving Time? 1
Nikon F3, 28mm f2.8 Ai-s Nikkor, Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD

Ah, Train World (again in Brussels) - one of the world's most extraordinary museums.

It describes itself as a "An Opera To The Train" and it is. 

I won't even begin to describe it, save to say, GO (if you can) - it'll explain itself when you're there.

Print notes:

Adox VC, GR 3 (?) 40 M, 24 sec, f8, + 6 edges. HC 110

This is one of my favourite 35mm photographs ever - I love the light and reflections in it.

The eagle-eyed might spot some lightness at the far left of the frame - this isn't a printing mistake - it's an edge effect caused by less than usual agitation during development.  - if you look into the photo it is also apparent where light meets dark in certain parts of the photo.
(Actually, every print on here exhibits some sort of edge effect - tis on the negative, it's nothing to do with the printing.)

Whatever - it doesn't detract from the photo to my eyes, and certainly beats digital perfection.

Big ✔
Happy ✔✔
Bunny ✔✔✔✔

 . . . Next! . . .

Leaving Time? 2
Nikon F3, 28mm f2.8 Ai-s Nikkor, Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD

Again, Train World - a ticket office with some examples of ticket collector's uniforms. I deliberately printed this slightly darker because it complemented the sepulchural reflections of the windows which make the print quieter than usual. The clock just sets it off to a tee and again I am a you know what.

Adox VC, GR 3 (?) 40 M,  22 sec, f8, + 6 edges. HC 110

Great ✔

Big ✔✔✔

Happy ✔✔✔✔

Bunny ✔✔✔✔✔✔

And that as they say is that. Of course there were a couple, well 3, spoils and sadly the last of their herd.

I have 3 sheets left - and I'll try and do something decent with them.

Oh and the one thing I forgot to mention is that printing these, I used an old Joe McKenzie technique which he called "setting the print". 

You see those bits where I say "4 edges" (sic)? Well that means an extra 4 seconds exposure to each edge of the print. It's quite a tight burn margin, maybe a couple of centimetres in from where the image of the film rebate sits on the paper in the easel (I always print with the rebate showing - it is rare for me to crop anything).
Joe said that he felt it made the eye settle itself into the print rather than looking at the edges - i.e. your eye is drawn into the print and doesn't search around for something to settle on. This was especially so when anything was mounted with white card.
Where the eye goes when it's in the print is another matter - at least the eye is looking at something and the brain is trying to interpret what it is seeing. 

Of course in the corners where the two exposures meet, you'll be getting an intersection with 8 seconds exposure . . . I'll bet it is noticeable now I've pointed it out 😉

It's all terribly esoteric isn't it!

Anyway, whether you agree or not, it's not often you get handed something from a master printer (and he was) - so try it if you like and if it works to your eyes, raise a glass to the memory of Joe McKenzie.
As far as I know I've not read about this technique being used anywhere before, but it's funny you know, sometimes, when I'm printing I can sort of feel the presence of Joe goading me on and keeping me right.
He was an exceptional educator and master craftsman - and yet again, I thank fortune for having been in the right place and at the right time to have learned the small (really very small in the pantheon of printing) amount of technique I learned from him. 
Worra bloke.

Anyway, that's all folks - remember to remove your teeth from that mug - they need it for afternoon tea.

Fresh Faces, Broken Dreams And Hope

If you live in Dundee, you can't miss it - the signs are everywhere, however if you are outwith the town, then:

'Here Ye! Here Ye!"

For it is time for that ragbag of hope, dreams, talent and waffle; of concerned artists and total art-speak psueds . .

Yes folks it is none other than time for Duncan Of Jordanstone College Of Art's Annual Degree Show!

Drunk N'Disorderly was where I was 'educated' in all things arty and whilst I came to loath handling pencils and gouache, I actually think that now I received a really solid education. So, I thought well, I effectively self-publish FB, why not do a nice thing and promote it.

Because, strangely, despite a working life not spent being an artist, here I am, 30 years down the line from that fresh-faced fellow, still creative, still making images, and definitely more of a concerned 'artist' (alright you regular F'ers, you can take the imagined 'piss-' off the front of that) than I have ever been.

I left college in the mid-80's, with a degree in one hand and the wish to become a fine art photographic printer in my heart - I knew I could do it, but unfortunately this was the end-time -  Thatcher's Britain of the '80's and I didn't have a bike - so whilst I was enthused, there was simply no employment for work like that in a tiny little place called Dundee, let alone in a a seemingly tinier place called Scotland . . nope it was London or nothing.
Not having the wherewithall, gumption, the aforementioned bike and especially funds to head to t'Smoke, I hunkered down, set up camp and ended up drifting into music retail . . and (incredibly to me) that's what I still do.

So those were my dreams broken-up like so many stale biscuits and swept under the carpet of evil reality.

OK, stop sobbing at the back.
There's no need, because with the wisdom of age, I am now of the opinion

Was it such a bad thing?

Typically me, it is a perverse thought. However when I really think about it, I think that the disillusion and pounding contact with reality was actually a boon.

What's that at the back?
Pardon?
Why?

Why?

Well (backed by I triumphal trumpet refrain) I can relate a story of triumph!
I am my own man, of independent finances, so I can commit my time (the most valuable commodity in the world) whenever I feel like it.

I can print whatever and whenever I want to - there are no deadlines, no angry customers, no rent, no worries of financial downturns, none of the normal distractions to creativity.

I can do what I want, when I want to.

I have my own darkroom - it's a mess, but it is MINE. It contains my 2 enlargers, 5 lenses and decent supply of paper, chemicals and negatives.

I can have fun and pleasure in the dark (stop sniggering) and emerge with results I am happy with.

Yes of course it's selfish, but it is my selfish.

But let's rewind for sec,

baaaaack,

baaaaaaack,

to a time of tight trousers, big hair, angular guitars and pints of snakebite . . .

After College, my dreams languished in the doldrums . . it was a total pisser, but what could one do? So, in a light-bulb moment, I totally put photography aside in favour of trying my darndest to play the guitar at a (hoped for) semi-pro level . . .

Oh the laughter . .

I did try though, really really really hard, practising for hours and days and months on my own initially, and then with my bandmates Mr.Charles Black Esq, and Sir Donald of The Currie . . or just plain, Chic n' Currie (geddit?) for short.

We had fun, we made monstrous noises, we deafened ourselves permanently.

We spent the equivalent of the GDP of a small African nation on gear!

But it was for naught.

The ghastly efforts can be heard here but please be warned - it isn't easy listening - it's also rather embarassing, however though you will have heard better, you've probably heard worse too . . .

And then in 1991 something truly significant happened to me - I met my wife, Alison.

I know that people poo-poo the 'it was meant to be' thing, but honest, it was.

We hit it off like a mouse and cheese, and it was this total realisation that there really was something more to life than practising the guitar, that led me to shut up my guitar cases pretty much for good . . . there was just simply so much more in the world than 6 strings and a plank of wood.

After a semi-legendary gig at Dundee Uni, Chic n' Currie (and Dr. Steve Gurling - our 'newish' singer) and me sort of felt like salmon in the upstream moments of life, and our little band fizzled out like a fizzly-out thing. We'd rocked, we'd created and someone (one person) had danced . . that was enough for us and we rode off into the sunset leaving behind altered minds and a changed musical reality.

We're still friends though (though no Gurley . . where are you?) and drink and laugh together on semi-regular nights out,  so all was not lost

In the meantime, Alison and I made a life together.

We did up an incredibly ramshackle flat, had a child (Alec Turnips . . just search the blog . . he's there), loved, laughed, talked, drank wine, got enthused, moved into another house no one else wanted, did it up slowly, laughed more, got even more enthused, drank more wine and generally LIVED.

And I was still a creative creature.

I might have been up to my eyes in 14 foot drops of lining paper, with a paintbrush behind my ear and a curse on my lips, but the olde creative rumblings continued.

I initially diverted them (by accident) into short story writing . . which, whilst I enjoyed it, wasn't really enough. I didn't think much of them to be honest, they were alright, but . . . and then one day, as often happens, out of nowhere during a conversation with my brother this statement came out:

"You used to be good at photography Phil - you could have done something with it."

A massive light bulb exploded in my head - of course!

Photography!

The thing I used to love.

The thing I still did badly on holiday with an original Olympus MjU, the results being processed by TruPrint (! - honest).

As if by coincidence, at the same time, my pension provider went belly-up.

I had some money in the bank which was aside for my pension . . I spoke to Alison and in typical fashion she said 'Go For It.', so I did.

A couple of weeks later, there I was with a 1960's Rolleiflex T, a Gossen Lunasix S and a roll of Neopan 400! Ready to rumble.

Now incredible as it may seem for someone who had studied photography, I was incredibly nervous, both in using that first film and in processing it . . so after I'd used up all 12 exposures, what did I do? Yep - I outsourced it to a local processing company, for the grand charge of £5 (this was about 2002 - that was a lot of money) and I didn't even get a contact print. The film was pretty poor actually, but I could see the potential, and became determined to do it myself. This I am afraid folks has given way to the process monster who writes for you these days. No step too fearsome! No film/developer combo too daunting!!

Fortunately I still had my Paterson tank from College days and also had a larger Paterson which I had bought for the grand sum of £2 at a car boot sale.

I quick visit to Jessops bought me a bottle of Rodinal, Bromophen, Ilfostop, Hypam and Ilfotol, 3 8x10 trays, and 25 sheets of Jessops RC - I was good to go.

Now of course all I needed was an enlarger . . however, because of our financial impunity that wasn't to happen for another 2 years!

Can you imagine- all these 120 films and only contact prints? I tried contact printing 6x6cm negs on 6x7 paper for a while, but again, not a great idea at the time!

I learned to be a bed-fellow with frustration - I've been used to scrimping and saving all my life, but man, that wait for an enlarger was super-frustrating.

The enlarger (a Meopta Magnifax) arrived the day of our 10th wedding anniversary - and it was nirvana, happier than a pig in you know what as I flexed my muscles in trying to carry the massive box somewhere I could assemble the contents.
I coupled this purchase with a blowout (courtesy of my ever-understanding missus) on a 80mm f4 El-Nikkor, a battered, bruised (but still good) Beard easel and a Scoponet.

I was ready to go.

It was hard though - those early days of re-learning all the techniques and skills I'd learned in college were difficult. All I had to judge my efforts was my eye and my heart - no handy aesthetic judgements from Mr.McKenzie; no Sandy (the erstwhile and highly knowledgeable darkroom technician) to advise on dilutions. No Safelights (!) Nope it was me and me alone . . oh and my dog-eared copies of 'The Negative' and 'The Print'. But it was funny - I wonder do any of you lot ever get a feeling of spirituality whilst printing? Just asking really, because I quite often do - you can almost feel the ghosts of all the darkroom toilers of years gone by, clinging to the fabric of your darkroom, willing you on, guiding your instincts, blessing your efforts because you (and the precious few left like you) are the last-ditch defence against the loss of key craft skills. When we're gone, we're gone my friends.
I was speaking to a print-maker and photographer last weekend and she said that the darkrooms at DCA (in Dundee - a public art facility with exhibition space and workshops . .and darkrooms) seem to be little used these days - bloody sad! I often wonder whether I am the only living darkroom in this small City on the East Coast of Scotland.

Anyway, yet again I get sidetracked - back to the real meat and potatoes - my early efforts. I've still got most of the prints - they're pretty dodgy with the occasional gem thrown in, but they were produced by me, for me and nobody else - they were pleasurable to make.

As I've said before, darkroom work is fckecking hard. There's simply no easy fix and if anyone tells you otherwise, they're not being truthful. But you know what, with persistence, and a bit of faith you can get there.

For me, having an incredibly understanding family and remembering the feelings I had in my old college-days about printing and the making of lasting images, helped.

I think I have sort of got there. I say sort of, because one is never finished with making prints.

I like images like this where reality is distorted.

So how does this tie in with all the fresh-faced hopefuls stumbling out of creative institutions all over the world clutching their little bits of paper, with hearts full of optimism? And it doesn't matter whether they've studied photography or not . . in the case of DJCAD not as film is no longer taught there . . .

Well, some sage advice, not that anyone will be reading this, however this is my island in the internet sea so I can say whatever I like:

To be a total creative creature you have to make sure that it is an immersive thing - it truly can be a hobby and not a profession, but it still has to be done with every bit of juice your body can muster.
This isn't easy. You have to love what you are striving to do.
You might well come out distraught and dazed, because a lot of those self-same institutions are like the mincers at the end of the promo film for Pink Floyd's Another Brick In The Wall . . people in, but you just get mince out.
For myself, I encountered nepotism, hierarchies, dictatorships and down-right laissez-faire at DJCAD.
It turned my (up to that point) lifelong love of drawing, into something which I haven't done since . . it was that bad.
And yet, a refined sense of the creative process, and a love of being able to create freely was awoken in me too - it's a weird juxtaposition, and I can't help feeling that it was actually good for me.

So, if you are a fresh-faced young fellow of either sex, please bear this in mind - you might well not become employed in your chosen creative endeavour . . you probably won't make a bean from it . . . however, isn't that exciting.

You (young, creative person) are FREE!

***

The following is a short program from the Ministry Of Truth And Freedom.

It's a dull little exhibit that will probably be of little interest to anyone, however, we, the boffins at the Ministry believe it is an egg-on example of someone making images they are quite happy with, with no constraints on them whatsoever. Moreover, in the case of two of the images, it is an example of determination in the face of a squinty printing easel. 

The chap who made these images is apparently vastly happy, chooses what he wants to photograph and print and produces them accordingly. 

We tip our tifters to him in the obvious face of his inability to produce a photograph of anything even remotely interesting

 We suppose that's the spirit of the thing.

Isn't it?

.

Winter Tree - Water Of Saughs

Battling a squint Beard Easel, our hero overcomes all, to rise triumphant. 

The photograph was made on a Pentax 67, which I no longer own; is printed on Grade 2 Ilford Galerie and is heavily Selenium toned.

Summer Tree - Glentrool

In a punch-out between age and physical ability, our hero lugged a very large camera bloody miles to make this image for you. 

The lens was a Kodak Ektar, film Kodak TMY2 400. 

It's printed on Adox MCC, which was from a faulty batch.
Yes it is fairly boring, however it pleases me, and isn't that the whole point?

The Pool

Again, the old Pentax 67.
What I like about this is the distortion of reality.
I filed it away for years, but encountered it again recently and rather like it.
Paper is Grade 2 Galerie and it is Selenium toned.

University Building

.

I would never have made an image like this at DJCAD . . the creative process to make it took years to distill, but I got there in the end. 

The camera was my Rollei T with the 16-on kit. Film was Foma 200, and it is printed on Grade 2 Galerie, but untoned. 

This was made as part of an exercise suggested by John Blakemore in tonality. 

I like it. 

A lot.

Over and oot!