Certified

Morning folks - at the risk of being boring, I'm sorry but I'm going to go where I've gone before and am going to try to define what photography is to me.

A friend from the DCA forum (Hi Steve!) recently very kindly took me on a small road trip to a fabulous bit of coastline, not too far away. 

It was a 'photo-walk', though I was rather encumbered with the 500C/M, 60mm Distagon, 150mm Sonnar and a tripod. Unusually for me I also took a couple of filters - a 0.9 ND and a 25 Red.

Now of course I could have gone light and just taken a digital whatever with zoom and probably got results I would have been happy with (in another life!) and looked at them on a screen and said "Oooh, ain't they lovely!" but I didn't - I wanted something I could print.

The day was extraordinary - it had been a -6 degree sunrise, followed by a biting wind, and then incredibly brilliant sunshine. The latter was so strong that everything was pretty harsh, even at an hour past sun-up; not really what you would call (if there is such a thing) 'ideal photo conditions.'

So I decided, rather than go my usual route of trying to get something 'normal', I'd try something different.

I don't know about you, but the world really does seem like a more exciting place with a red filter on!

I'll put this down to a large costume jewellery fake ruby that I had in my toy box when I was small - I loved it so much that I would quite often view the world that way, and (weirdly) I think it is an element of that, that gives me comfort when I put a red filter on and view the camera-world that way. 

Not that I do it very often . . . however (with hindsight and now after printing the negatives) I can honestly say I wish I had done it more often. 

And because of that, I have discovered something, which works for me, that has turned what could have been vin ordinaire photographs into something with a bit more character.

I think normal photographic thinking says that really you DO NOT want the levels of contrast a red filter gives in a photograph. OK, it brings out the clouds for a bit of drama and that's OK, even acceptable in a sort of photo club competition way.

But I'm not a member of a photo club and don't like competitions; I like my landscape real and atmospheric, not chocolate box and someone else's ideal of what a landscape should look like.

The sun had blasted any atmosphere clean out of its trousers - it wasn't going to look good.

So I had a thunk whilst walking and talking:

Hmmmmmm - what if I metered the scene for its shadows and placed them on Zone III (my normal practice) then, given the possible crossover into reciprocity failure because of stopping down a lot (only 1/500th on a Hasselblad remember - gotta take it to f32 or f 45) really gave them a massive dose of exposure. 

Then processed the film using a semi-compensating dilution of something like HC110 (Dilution H in my case) and really didn't agitate too much . . then, when they were dry, print them on Grade 1?

 

I could have done with a cuppa at that point and tbh, Grade 1 never occurred to me until I had the negs developed. But that's the beauty of film-based photography -  betwixt the snappin' and the flappin' something happens - not always for the best, and other times a surprise.

In the dark, DeVere whooshing away, trying to print the negatives, I encountered a tonality I've not encountered in my prints before. 

Normally, when I've printed on soft grades they have been extraordinarily disappointing. 

Shite is actually the word of choice. 

No two ways about it . . even though you're supposed to with a harder negative.

But this time I seem to have encountered John Blakemore's (you've never heard of him????? c'mon) tonality, in an entirely accidental way.

It is hard to tell from the scans, but if you were to grab a print and a cuppa and sit down with me, you'd see it. 

Of course, though, this is roll film - a collection of strangers locked forever in time on the same strip of polyester  -  they're not all going to be printed on the same grade (as you can see) but those three I have put below (the Grade 1 prints) to my eyes, definitely have the Blakemore thing going on.

So if you try to use this method and are only scanning your negatives . . . good luck. 

But if you are printing I hope it works for you as it has for me.

500 C/M, 60mm Distagon, No Filter.
Sunstars pure happenstance.
Grade 4.5

500 C/M, 150mm Sonnar, Red 25.
Grade 1
Hello John

500 C/M, 150mm Sonnar, Red 25.
Grade 1
Hello John

500 C/M, 150mm Sonnar, Red 25, ND 0.9.
7 Second exposure, f32
Grade 1
Hello John

500 C/M, 150mm Sonnar, Red 25, ND 0.9.
10 Second exposure, f32
Grade 3 (to bring up the surf)

Now, as you can imagine, this took a lot of time and work.  Whilst being in the darkroom on a nice sunny day, I often thought, blimey, I could just have taken them digitally and been happy. 

I found myself getting tired and frustrated and then elated.

I decided to do something about it.

Regular readers will know I have a Sony A6000 and Nikkor adapter, so the following day I took it up to Balgay cemetery to try and prove something to myself. 

The lens was the Pre-Ai 24mm Nikkor, and below are the two things I am happy with:

Sony A6000, 24mm Pre-Ai Nikkor

Sony A6000, 24mm Pre-Ai Nikkor

The colours are lovely - very muted, which is what I expected from early Nikon coating and I think in another life I would be happy. 

But they just don't give me any feeling at all.

Nada.

Zilch.

They're cold.

And I went back and reviewed many digital images, and felt exactly the same way. 

Then I looked at prints - the good, the bad, and the downright ugly - and I felt some affection for them. 

And I believe that is because I had to put the effort in to make them. 

Countless hours, learning and seeing and thinking and appreciating. 

The feeling of nausea that I'd wasted a £2.50 sheet of paper. 

The anticipation of a final image . . . that final rise to the surface and completion of development like some primordial art work being discovered for the first time.

It is a HUGE THING. 

It's wonderful.

I'm typing this with a shiver, because it can really get to you.

With digital everything is perfect; there's no waiting; anticipation is defused simply by the act of looking at your camera screen.

I imbue my prints with my feelings. 

They are a struggle, and surely half of what life can be about, is struggle. 

Yes, easy can be lovely and wonderful, but when you are trying to create (sorry folks) ART, then the struggle is the hone.

And that's it. That's why I do it.

I should be certified.

Putting your ALL into something has both benefits and disadvantages. I like to think the benefits outweigh the latter.

So, despite the ease of digital, I am going to keep on keeping on till they stop making the stuff (film and paper and chemicals).

I love it.

It's been a part of me for a huge chunk of my life and ONLY FILM AND DARKROOM PRINTING will satisfy me.

Full stop.

The end.

Must go now - that pasta has been boiling for about 3 hours . . . . 

H xxx

It's An Affie Bonnie Day Fer Takin' Some Fotees

Morning folks - you'll have to get yer heed around the epithet of this one.

Y'know, for years I have railed against being 'Dundonian'. 

I don't know why . . . well I do actually, it is because I always wanted to get back to the country and I think that denying that I was actually settled here would, in some weird way, get me back where I belonged . . . wading through soggy vegetation, shouting at cows, listening to rivers etc etc . . you get the drift. 

But it never happened, and I think now is probably more or less unlikely to - the river of life runs its course and it isn't always the course you expected; however that course can be something far sweeter. 

That does make me a wee bit sad, however, never being one to dwell on things too much, I have accepted (and also been called such . . by 'locals' no more, no less) that I am now a proud Dundonian.

Proud?

Yep, you heard that right.

I had a really long wander this morning, from the part of the Hawkhill that used to be called 'Witch Knowe' up and along Annfield Road, onto Blackness Road (strangely [for what used to be a bit of a shithole] now morphing into one of the most culturally diverse streets you could imagine) and up to beautiful Balgay Park; thence the heavy climb up to Mills Observatory, then down, crossing the bridge and into Balgay Cemetery. 

All the way, I was looking at the light, and I realised, that the light here can be quite different to other places. 

It is often silvern, and I put that down to its sunny aspect (sunniest city in Scotland!) and the reflection of said sunshine off a mile wide chunk of river - the Tay.

My old mentor Joseph McKenzie, always said the light was different here, but it has only been in recent years that I have come to appreciate the profound truth of that statement. 

Sure it can be utterly grey for weeks on end, but when you get a morning like this morning, well, it is wonderful. 

But more to the point, excellent for taking photographs. 

With my new enforced leisure status, I am able to really appreciate the ebb and flow of morning light; at this time of the year the shadows are just beginning to climb back to brightness, so at times you have deep, deep shadow, and piercing sunlight. Overlay this with the moisture content coming in off the estuary and you have, at times, an effect quite akin to early, uncoated lenses.

It was this combo that I experienced last week, using an unfamiliar film and focal length, but a familiar subject. 

The film was Pan F.

It had officially 'died' in November 2009, but seeing as I now have 7 rolls of it (gifted by a friend - thanks Alan!) I thought it best to let it get up and get busy! 

The lens was the 250mm Hasselblad Sonnar - a lens I have used a few times, but still not gelled with, which is daft really as I often have wished for more distance-closing power at times. 

The subject was one of the most (to my eyes) beautiful pieces of monumental sculpture I've ever seen (and I've visited a few museums, believe me). I've photographed her before and you'll recognise her, but I felt she deserved the full portrait.

To directly quote the Zeiss literature for the lens:

Even at full aperture the 250 mm Sonnar@ T* f/5.6 lens features such excellent image quality that stopping down is not required. Despite its long focal length and remarkable telephoto effect, this lens is compact and allows hand-held photography.

The 250 mm Sonnar@ T* f/5.6 lens is used tor portraiture, long-range, press, sports and stage photography. In outdoor portraiture, the shallow depth-of-field range can be used to advantage to separate the model from an unsteady background.

So with this in mind I went and whiled away a happy couple of hours.

Despite the widely held internet belief that Pan F and HC110 are a complete no-no, things turned out fine, which was fortunate, because I had mis-metered two of the exposures (as I'll show you below) placing the shadows on Zone III . . . however I obviously read the wrong part of the scene. 

Fortunately I'd made more exposures with placing the 'skin' tones of the stone on Zone VI and it was from these negatives I managed to print (after wasting a couple of sheets of paper trying to print from the Z III ones.)

The results were printed on some handed-on Ilford MGRC, Pearl. I printed them at Grade 3 and toned them in Selenium. 

I was thinking far more contrasty in my head when I took them, but after weighing up the options, chose to print them more muted.

They were exposed at f8. The Sonnar is a f5.6 and I find it remarkable that you can quite clearly see cobwebs in the prints only one stop down from maximum.

I rated the film at EI50 simply because of its age and, as I said, developed them in HC110.

I used Dilution H simply because of the extreme contrast range of the day and it worked pretty well.

As you can see from the snippet from the contact print, I really ballsed-up two exposures - there is a lot of image on the negatives, but they are just too beyond-the-pale to get anything out of them. 

Anyway, here are the prints - direct scans from the print as per usual:

Contact Print Snippet

So I took my photos, and that was that.

I packed up, moved on and further along the way encountered a really cheery bloke, about my age, who said in pure Dundonian:

"Mornin'! It's an affie bonnie day fer takin' some fotees eh!"

And I couldn't have agreed with him more. 

He was dead friendly. 

I can't quite believe I am typing this, but it's that sort of place.

It's changing, in a big way for the better, but in another way sadly for the loss of some character - the proper Dundee auld wifies who used to troll about the town are dying off; the dialect is lessening.

Such is the way of the world.

Anyway, till next time, as always, thanks for reading, take care and keep on fighting the good fight.

H xx

Big Bunny

Morning friends. Well, firstly can I say that no one is more surprised than me that I have sat down and written this. I thought I was gone. I had no motivation for writing anymore FBs. I think I shall put that down to my weekly regime, it was too much. Trying to come up with something that is interesting to yourself (never mind a possible larger readership), every single week for a year is quite an achievement, not least to say, punishing.

It burned me out and made me feel that it was all rather pointless.

I suppose, it is pointless really.

I know none of my readers properly, though I will say a hello to you if you have made it a habit to read and comment, but at the end of the day, I am here at my wee desk in the early hours of a Scottish morning, and you are out there in the big wide world, and the distances between us are gulfs.

I thank you for your efforts in reading FB, you didn't need to really, but it is appreciated.

What my regime did do for me though, is hone my writing skills. I feel a far more confident and flowing writer than I did at the start, and to that end I have revisited several writing exploits I started a long time ago and have decided I should do something with them. It seems pointless to leave them languishing in drawers and folders . . all I need to do now is find the time and the concentration to complete them . . but I'll get there (though I have said that before).

Anyway, that is another thing. FB was pretty much always about FogBlography and it still pretty much  will be, so let me have a brief detailing about everything that has occurred since I hung up my keyboard just before Easter . . .

In a word nothing.

I haven't made a single photograph.

Now fortunately for me, I recognised something within in myself which has happened three times before in my life . . extreme passion burn-out. Sounds serious doesn't it, and you know what . . it is. VERY.

A brief aside into past-times again:

Burn-out 1:

From the year dot, I was an amateur artist. I drew all the time. It was a hobby which consumed me like a flame, and in a typical Sheephouseian fashion, whilst I wasn't brilliant, I was a solid plodder. You just have to look at pictures of me when I was young to realise that me and speed were not bedmates. So what did I do with my wonderful hobby? Yes, I went to art college. And as detailed many times before, it managed to snuff my love of drawing out as if it were no more than a small candle in a gale. The people I met were so talented and arty (quite a number of current high-falootin' major Scottish artists too) that my solid plod of line and form were as nothing against these folk. Also the whole feel of being in a mincer never did quite leave me, and pop! . . .one day it was gone. I haven't really picked up a pencil in anger since graduating in the mid-80's. I burned out, locked the door and have never returned.

Burn-out 2:

Music. Did I tell you I can play a guitar like ringing a bell? Yep, from the age of 13 when my Mum and Dad finally relented and bought me one, I was obsessed. Not a minor obsession either, but a full-blown, honest, down-to-earth whopping one. I spent vast amounts of hard-earned cash. I spent whole months of my life practicing, and I became pretty good.

It is easy to learn the guitar these days, but in those days it really wasn't.

Good players were few and far between and if you ever did meet up with another one it was more akin to Gunfight At The Rock N' Roll Coral. I kid ye not.

Anyway, for all the years of effort, you know what, the inevitable happened. Burn-out. And I have never gone back.

I stopped playing seriously when I met my wife and realised that there was more to life than sitting alone with a lifeless lump of wood and metal and trying to coax it into something akin to the flames I was feeling inside.

I haven't really picked up a guitar in anger since the early 1990's.

I will occasionally, but it is just for a quick strum and flail over the strings, check out me Al Di Meola chops, and back it goes into its case again.

Burn-out 3:

Fogblog.

Yep.

Too much, and I could feel it coming, so that is something else I have learned: if your pleasure starts to feel like a chore or a duty, stand back.

Drawing felt (at the end) like something in the world I hated.

Guitar playing felt (at the end) like a desperate attempt by me and my bandmates to persuade people how great we were . . in a word it became a chore.

And FB too. Yep a total chore, every week, like cleaning a toilet. Hence I have held back.

So where does this lead us now?

Well actually, I do rather enjoy FB, and I have missed it. Stopping felt like turning off a creative tap, so here we are again, and for the moment folks, whilst it won't be a weekly thing, I think I will approach it as more of an occasional, like that jar of Gentleman's Relish that you dip into every now and then.

I hope that is alright with you chaps.

Don't go throwing yourselves off of tall buildings or anything . . .

Right, in my break I have become a tad gear hungry again, however, that has manifested itself in one way . . . Try and make the most of what you have. I am feeling like I need to slim down my camera collection - you can only compose one frame at a time, and spreading yourself over so many formats can only mean that you dilute yourself in some way. However this doesn't mean that I am giving up on the Leica and the Nikons, the Rollei, or the Koni, but I have felt rather bad about neglecting my Large Format cameras (yes, ridiculously two . . a Sinar F and a Wista DX) so I feel I should get out and about with them again.

I also have rather a lot of film I stocked up on before Kodak made it nearly impossible to afford film (£75 for a box of 50 sheets of Tri-X these days) so I have to use that up.

I have also made a small purchase (well, actually it is pretty large). I have always struggled to carry my LF gear, shoe-horning it into the only rucksack I own (a 25 litre Deuter) and to be honest it was pain to use, and left little room for anything else important like lunch (I slimmed my hillwalking lunches down to dry oatcakes and dried fruit!), so I put my money where my pain was and bought for the grand sum of £39 from Ffordes, one of these.

Wista DX, Light Meter, 8 Film Holders, 3 Lenses, Loupe

Ready To Rumble
That's a Gitzo Series 2 Reporter tripod

It is a rather old Tamrak Summit 777 rucksack, and it fits the bill handsomely. I can now just unzip one compartment and everything is to hand . . what a relief!

Very well made (in the USA), great zips and a solid feel, and even though it is roughly 12 years old, and has been used, it is in fantastic condition still. Tamrak rather gets overlooked with regard to its bags, but I can tell you that they are second to none. Great build quality and comfortable.

So that is me, all packed up and waiting for a clear weekend, and I hope to detail some trips in detail soon as it were - we shall see. Stay tuned and all that.

Whilst I am here and on the subject, I thought I would show you what a lens which is universally disparaged, can do. 

People go nuts about lpm and all these crazy sharpness tests, and to be honest it is great to be reading about things like that, however at the end of the day it is all about the picture. If your composition is off, and the subject is dull then what is the point?

So to that end, here's a bottom-feeder of a LF lens.

The tiny 90mm Schneider Angulon f6.8, is either loved or hated. I actually love mine, it is tiny and sharp enough if you stop it down to f22 and beyond. If you are looking for a Large Format lens to start out with and you like wide angles, then they are about the cheapest thing out there, regularly selling for around £100.

As you can see it is small - that is a UK 50 pence piece, and it is on a standard Linhof/Wista lens board.

Mine is a later model and it is single coated.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Late 1964 Schneider 90mm Angulon f6.8

And to prove the point, this is what it can do. 

The scan isn't great, but the print is as sharp as you could wish for. Certainly you have no room for movements, but when doing landscapes like this you don't really need them.

The Suicide's Bridge
Ilford FP4+, EI 50
11 Minutes, HC110 Dilution H, 20 Degrees Centigrade.
Ilford Galerie, Grade 2.

As you can see the lens has given the photograph a lovely 'airy' quality in the way it renders the distant foliage. I am not keen on 'smoky' water, however in this case it is quite muted and not in yer face. It has also managed to convey some of the mournful atmosphere of the setting. Whilst I am unaware if anyone has actually committed suicide from this bridge, it sort of had that melancholy feel to it, hence my title for the photograph.

So folks, again thank you for reading, and whilst I might not see you next weekend, I will see you along the trail sometime soon. 

If you want to shout words of encouragement like 'Get Off Yer Arse You Lazy B.' in your best Brian Blessed bellow, then please feel free. 

Leave a comment at the bottom.

It is nice to know I am not just propelling this out into the dark . . 

Take care and God bless.