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.

A Foggye Daye In Olde Dundee Towne

Morning Folks and a Very Happy New Year to you!

I am sorry yet again if you've come along expecting more Caravan Chronicles . . it hasn't happened yet . . however this is just as exciting . . possibly more so really, so without further ado, here we go.

Admit it, if you're a traditional wet process photographic printer, we've all been there. The sheer temptation of all that lovely old paper, rotting away in darkrooms long abandoned by grab and squirt photographers (don't worry, there's no digital rail coming here). 

There's TONS of it, seemingly everywhere, free (if you know someone nice); at super tempting prices on eBay or Gumtree; car boot sales; Craig's List .  . whatever . . but it's out there. 

Like you, I have found the prospect of saving a large number of quids stocking up, a very easy and tempting proposition. 

Why not?

Paper is fucking expensive (for what it is) and given you can happily consign a healthy percentage of that £90 box of Ilford Galerie to the bin as wastage, unless you are super careful, then much cheapness is a very nice way to go.

BUT . . .

You knew that was coming, didn't you. 

It is all well and good opting for this route, and for a lot of times, it can be fine, however time and again for me, one thing raises its ugly head:

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW IT HAS BEEN STORED.

Yep - it's no surprise to learn that in common with all photographic materials, temperature and light and chemical ingress, but especially temperature can affect paper. For all you know, that lovely box of 11x14 Ektalure that only cost £10 has been stored in the photographic equivalent of a blast furnace. Even worse, very few darkrooms can be considered to be kept at a consistent cool temperature - they're up and down and all over the shop.

I recently received 2 boxes of Agfa MCC from a kind friend at Scottish Photographers - nearly 100 sheets of 10x8, and 50 sheets of 9.5 x 12. Lovely!

Now Agfa MCC was a fine paper, so fine that when it died about 6 years ago, it was resurrected by Adox and is still in production.

So that's my first point - the boxes I received must be at least 6 years old.

I was delighted though - for the cost of postage I had got loads of paper to go with my already ageing stock - Benzotriazole I thought, and Online Darkroom Bruce happily supplied me some.

I tested the paper - it was sort of fine (the 9.5x12 being a lot better than the 10x8) there was some fog, so my developer was suitably Benzoed and the fog sort of dealt with, however results were and are inconsistent.

Notice the use of the words sort of .

I've done a bit of research (och well, put my feet up with a cuppa and a copy of 'The Print') and discovered that had I just read first I would have realised that adding Benzo-T brings its own problems: extended development, loss of paper speed, colouration of the print. 

It's a bit hit and miss. 

I could also have used Potassium Bromide, however I have none of that, or even a commercial fog-reducer, but again I have none of that . . . so what do I do with this wealth of paper? Well, print with it of course! So I did.

I've had the following sequence in my head for a long time - it's all fairly simple stuff and a homage to a photographic hero of mine - John Blakemore (if you've never read his 'Black and White Photography Course' book . . why not? It is one of the most strange, wonderful and informative photographic books ever written). 

All of the negatives were made with Kodak TMAX 400 and 100, and developed in Rodinal (1:25). The camera was my Leica M2 and the lens a humble 90mm f4 Elmar-M (one of the most universally disparaged of all Leitz lenses). 

I think they work. 

See you on the other side.

Sequence 1.1

Sequence 1.2

Sequence 1.3

Sequence 1.4

Sequence 1.5

Sequence 1.6

OK - that is that out of the way. 

These are all prints made by me on 10x8" fibre paper, scanned for the purposes of this at 600 Dpi and if you study them (well you don't actually need to look hard) you'll notice something about the first 5 prints . . FOG. 

It is entirely obvious to me, and despite the presence of the correct dilution/amount of Benzo-T in the developer, the age of the paper has rendered the highlights with a dull thud.

Indeed I got so fed up, that at the end of the session I printed print number 1.6 on some fresher and stored properly (though still ancient) Adox Vario Classic.

Prints 1.1 to 1.5 were all printed several times (and all treated with heavy bleaching in Potassium Ferricyanide and then toned in Kodak Selenium) whereas print 1.6 was a single print, with just a light toning in the Selenium.  It took approximately two thirds less time to make and has a lovely airieness about it which is devoid from the other prints.

And this I guess is my point.

What a fucking waste of man-hours those first 5 were.

I shall have to print the sequence again for storage on properly fresh paper - I have spent a number of hours and utilised printerly skills and efforts on this and all for naught really.

Old paper might seem tempting, but in reality it is probably a waste of time. 

(This being said my one caveat to this is that proper Graded paper lasts considerably longer than Multigrade - I have some Grade 2 Galerie that is heading for at least 8 or 9 years old, stored in the coolness of my cellar/darkroom [sounds posh . . it's a cupboard with a stone-flagged floor] and it is still really fine.)

So, before you all go crazy and buy up the languishing stocks of lovely, tempting old paper, stored in yer Uncle's Baby Belling stove or on a bookcase in his sunny living room, think twice. Unless the vendor can guarantee that is has been stored correctly, fridged or frozen or at a consistent coolness, then to be honest I wouldn't bother.  

Life is too short!

Trust me, when that lovely glistening print is exposed to the cold white light of your darkroom and daylight you'll see that there's nothing enjoyable about it . . actually, you'll realise you've wasted your time.

Indeed I recently purchased a box of Fotospeed RCVC off eBay from a guy who said it had been stored properly for a couple of years - saved myself around a tenner, and that's foggy too.

So, Caveat Emptor!

Spend a bit more if you can. 

Buy fresh paper and store it carefully - the manufacturers need your money. 

And you!

Yes you!

Can you really afford the time to waste? 

Nope, thought not . . 

Me neither.

Over and out.

Oh, and lest I forget - Je Suis Charlie too.

Big Cameras & Dark Forests

Morning shipmates - whilst I don't normally go for the throat with titles, I thought this one appropriate, however to it I will add Big Cameras & Dark Forests (A Tale Of Terror)!
Terror?

Oh yes. Sheer panicky terror, underwritten with the overwhelming feeling of there being something outwith my experience.

Regular readers (Howdy!) will know I have a strong affinity with caravans. For the uninitiated in British holidaying, the caravan and the holiday caravan (nee home) are totally different things. The former is a device towed behind your vehicle and parked up wherever you can find a decent campsite, and if you can't find one of those then a friendly bit of land somewhere. It's a sobering experience, but one I feel everyone should have the opportunity to try at least once in life. The Holiday Caravan or Holiday Home, is a static caravan on a site. These things have changed vastly in the last 15 or so years, going from thin-walled breezy barns, with a cosy 'us vs the outdoors' feeling about them, to modern palaces. Seriously - there are some very fine campsites out there with modern Holiday Homes in them that are like small palaces . . central heating, small en-suites, satellite tv, free wi-fi . . basically enough to satisfy your every holiday need. I can heartily recommend them as, if you choose your site wisely, they can provide a solid base for a touring holiday. You don't have to worry about packing up and packing down, you can spread yourself out and rise as early or late as you wish. In other words they're relaxing . . bloody relaxing.

Here's a wee film I made. The rain was real.

My tale of terror occured one wet and windy October stay in such a caravan (wot? a caravan in October? are you mad??). The site - Glentrool Holiday Park at Bargrennan near Newton Stewart in God's Own County - Dumfries And Galloway. Situated on the edge of the Galloway Forest Park, it's a really decent, well maintained and friendly site where we have enjoyed a number of excellent holidays. Allied to this it is in a Dark Sky Area, so the night skies (when it isn't raining) are extraordinary. Mix in the feeling that you are experiencing Scotland somewhat as it was in the 1970's (Galloway can be like that) and you have a recipe for delight.

Of course, this being FB I can't go far without mentioning photography . . and it is from my indulgence in this wonderful hobby that my Tale Of Terror springs.

It had been raining for a couple of days, and not just light showers either, but on and on, which does restrict one somewhat. Allied to this it was the start of October, so the nights were fair drawing in and it was getting pretty dark, pretty early, but that was mere chiffchaff for your intrepid photographer . . oh no . . I am made of sterner stuff . . true grit and all that.

I'd recc'ed White Cairn a couple of days before - it had involved lots of tramping through forest paths with exceptionally soggy boots, trousers soaked to the thigh; of sodden jackets and even having to use the AW cover on my LowePro Nova camera bag . . now that's bad! 
I found it eventually, and discovered that I could have quite easily reached it had I used the path network from Glentrool village . . but then I'm thick like that . . if there's a hard way of doing something, I'll find it.

I was taken aback by the sheer loneliness of the place. Despite being surrounded by modern planting, in my mind I clearly saw it back in time. White Cairn is approximately 3000 years old and it feels it. The small clearing where it resides holds a serious presence, but on my initial discovery of it, I was blissfully unaware of that. I just thought it was beautiful and awe-inspiring and I really wanted to photograph it with a 5x4 camera. I wandered back home, and knew I had to return.

A couple of days later found us back home from our jaunts early, so, seeing as it seemed to have stopped raining, we had our tea and I grabbed the Wista and Gitzo and headed out, deciding I would try and photograph a few forest scenes too before I got to White Cairn.

I should add that it wasn't more than half a mile away from our caravan as the crow flew. So not far - not an epic journey physically, but definitely epic in atmosphere.

Despite an end to the rain, the day was still drear and not very inviting to photography at all, but I thought I'd take my chances - I hadn't got much of the holiday left and didn't want to risk not being able to photograph it at all.

Boring techy camera bit:

I will take a little aside here and say that a lightweight wooden field camera (like the venerable Wista DX) is a thing of supreme joy from the point of view of haulage. Jack Dykynga uses one for long trips and I feel that says a lot as he could pick what he likes. I get away with mounting mine on 1980's Gitzo Series 2 Reporter. It was a reasonable purchase at £120 with a Gitzo Pan and Tilt head and is without a doubt one of the finest most stable tripods I have used. It's easy to maintain, it doesn't weigh a huge amount, and above all else it is incredibly stable. I've used it in really heavy duty windy conditions and the resulting negatives have been absolutely fine. Mine is a G224, so if you can find one, snap it up - you can still get the spares too.

With my Wista I use the following three lenses:

1980's Schneider Symmar-S - 150mm f5.6

Mid-1960's Schneider Angulon - 90mm f6.8

Late-50's Kodak Ektar - 203mm f7.7

The Symmar is the heaviest, but it is a fine lens for most applications. The Ektar I didn't have at the time of this escapade, but it is as sharp wide-open as stopped down. The 90mm Angulon just covers 5x4, but is a fine little lens and manages to impart atmosphere to photographs in a way which I am yet to understand.

Back to the Wista - whilst I would love the likes of an Ebony, not just from the point of view that it is a lovely camera, but also from the point of view of its appeal as a stunning object of great craftsmanship, the little Wista can really hold its own. It does have a certain charm and is the sort of camera that you don't have to worry too much about. I've seen people complain about the stability of the standards, but they lock down beautifully and I must admit I love mine. 

Anyway . . onwards!

So there I was, semi-burdened, heading off into the still light, but slowly darkening forest. 
I found my way quite easily and following the track as it took off through a mass of heavily-planted trees I felt it would be as good a place as any to make some photographs. Just to prove my decision right, the clouds cleared for a bit and I was regaled with a clearish sky. It was  actually a good few stops lighter, so I stopped by a burn I'd spotted previously and made two exposures using the 90mm Angulon. 
The ground glass looked good, so I felt that maybe the photographs would too.

Forest 1
Wista DX, 90mm Angulon, TMX 400 in HC110

Forest 2
Wista DX, 90mm Angulon, TMX 400 in HC110

I think the wee Angulon has captured that sense of a forest's stillness. 
The meeting of the three waters in particular struck me as very much a peculiar thing . . . there was a small rummel of sound as the water quietly made its way off into the darkness and I had the feeling of intruding on one of Natures' hidden processes. 
All was quiet apart from a couple of dogs yapping away in Glentrool Village some quarter of a mile away. I was very much alone and it felt it. Had the trees been native Scots trees rather than just another modern pine forest, I think the feeling of being disassociated from time would have been complete, because that is what I felt. 
I was using 'modern' technology (OK . . the process is over 100 years old, but you know what I mean) to capture the scene and I was wearing modern clothing, but I could just have easily been standing there in bare feet and burlap, or from an even earlier time - all animal skins and a wooden bow. 
Time meant little to me and it seeped into my bones.

It was so very peaceful and I succumbed to it. 

I don't know about you LF photographers out there, but when I am using the big boy's camera I become totally absorbed and lose track of time, which didn't help in this case. I dreamed, I was slow, I finished off at a leisurely pace, and, filled with that sense of peace and the slipping of time, I packed my camera away, collapsed the tripod and strolled on to White Cairn.

Coming out of the trees' cover I was struck by the gloam and just how totally alone I was. I knew that it would be easy to take a wrong turn on the way back so I marked where I came out of the trees, got my bearings again (though this is hard when the only horizon is trees) and continued.

Arriving at the clearing of the Cairn I suddenly realised that time was against me. I circled the tomb in the stillness and tried to get an idea of a decent composition.

It was really hard to do this because I knew I couldn't be disrespectful to the tomb. Yeah I could have got the tripod and the 90mm Angulon and got right in close to the stones, but then it wouldn't have felt right, and besides, some weird sixth sense was tickling my subconscious saying, 'Just don't even think about it'. 

I made one exposure, which didn't work at all, so moved around a bit more, and took the photograph below.

White Cairn
Wista DX, 150mm Symmar-S, TMX 400 in HC110

It's OK. Nothing special though. I am not sure whether I captured the atmosphere of the place or not.

I had to used the 150mm Symmar-S, because, as I have already said, there was no way I was going to disrespect this resting place.

As the shutter stayed open and I counted off the exposure, I instantly became aware of two things.

Firstly the sun had set, completely. The darkness was very apparent. It emphasised just how far removed I was from the modern world.

The second thing, would, in normal circumstances be considered fanciful. I was deeply aware of a presence that wished me to be gone. 
There, I've said it. 
Mad? 
No. I can at times be acutely aware of atmospheres and such things, and the Cairn had spoken: 

Begone.

The command, because it was one, took root in my core and filled my mind: 

Leave. 

I cut short my exposure, and rapidly, with shaking hands and my breath becoming visible in the chilled air, inserted the dark slide and removed the film holder, packed it away with the others, removed my cable release, attached lens cap, collapsed the camera, unscrewed the camera from the tripod, packed the camera away in my rucksack, zipped it up, did a quick double check that I had left nothing, collapsed the legs on the tripod, slung my rucksack onto my back, and with one final, hasty glance, picked up my tripod and ran.

Running was the only solution because whatever presence was there, really did wish to be alone. 
I, a mere puny modern human being had no place at the site.  
No matter my affinity with stone-age man, it wasn't enough. 
I was an unwelcome guest.

I never run. It just isn't something I do. But I had to. Complete panic filled me. I legged it out of the clearing and along a forestry Land Rover track, to the point I had marked that cut off under the trees. 

It was at this point I paused and terror pummeled my subconscious. The 'path' which was more a run of flattened rough grass and disturbed pine needles, was lost in a complete darkness. A primal fear of the unknown clung to those trees and I felt that once I entered them, I would not exit.
I could stay on the Landie track, but where would that leave me - these things have a habit of running for miles in directions you would never consider.

Caught between a rock and a hard place and the awareness that whatever stalked the clearing had now made its way free and was following me, I took one deep breath and headed into the trees.
I stumbled, I peered, I stopped and checked, and the deeper in I got, the more I realised that the presence of the Cairn suffused the whole area. It was a deep and powerful feeling that emanated from the quiet earth. 
Fear of the unknown gripped my vitals.

Halting in an almost complete darkness with my heart hammering in my ears I tried to calm myself, but it wasn't working. 
And then I heard it. 
The quiet rummel of water moving in the silence. The meeting of waters. The place of my photograph. It was nearby. 
I cautiously moved forward, using my tripod like a blind man would use his stick. I couldn't afford to fall over . . . the 'thing' behind me might well be upon me before I knew it.

And then I was splashing forward and through; beyond, distantly, the trees denseness gave way to lighter patches where they ended and I knew that I'd be able to get out. 
The last hundred metres I took as fast as I dared, and suddenly I was out and onto another path, a more familiar marked one, and I knew in the dusky overcast night that I would easily be able to follow my tracks home. 
The presence left me as quickly as I left the trees and I fancied in my head that whatever it was had toyed with me, for I was aware of a subconscious deep laughter, at me, the foolish 'modern' man.

I made my way back down onto the main road and walked back to the caravan at quite a pace, because I suddenly realised that my panic would be as nothing to my familys', had I been 'missing' in the darkness of the lonely miles of the Galloway Forest Park.

Soaked and bewildered, emanating steam and relief, I have never been so glad to see an electric light in my entire life.
And that's it friends - one of life's wee adventures.

In hindsight, maybe I could have hunkered down in the trees and over-nighted it, however I don't think my heart would have been able to stand it. 

Conversely, I could of course have headed back to the tomb and crawled inside, for it is quiet and peaceful and quite dry, and let the aeons of time strip my 'self' from my bones and given my soul to whatever spirit bides there . . .

But then again . . . 

If you have found this interesting, please feel free to follow up with some more reading!

Going through some of the links below you realise that there might well have been activity on the site dating back to the late Mesolithic (7000 to 5000 BC). When you think about it and see how much this site has been disturbed in modern times, I think that whatever presence is there, just wishes for peace.

Gods bless and thanks for reading.

http://drmarkjardine.wordpress.com/2013/06/25/the-covenanters-of-the-white-cairn-in-galloway/

http://www.ncl.ac.uk/historical/research/project/2405

http://canmore.rcahms.gov.uk/en/site/62997/details/white+cairn+bargrennan/

http://www2.uclan.ac.uk/scitechmedia/bargrennan/whitecairn.html

The Ralph Gibson Experiment (Part Three)

Mornin' Maties.
Eggs
Or in the words of me old mate Gollum (the original one, you know the one that has lived in my head since I were young, not the fake New Zealand one):
Eggss's!
Oh yes, Easter is a comin' and there's nothing yer Cap'n likes more than a nice Easter egg. As many as possible so that I can put me ol' seaboots up on my cabin table come Easter morn, give thanks to the Lord and stuff myself full o' Albumen and Yolk.
Chocolate I hear you ask?
Nah, not here.
It gives me the monster-jips. I remember a time when we was runnin' a Brigand full o' Cacau beans down in the Southern Seas - oh yes. Very nasty. But you don't want to hear about that. Suffice to say I can't look a bar o' Lindt in the eye in the same way no more.
Nope, a good ol' hard (or soft) boiled hens egg, and as many as you like.
That does for me at Easter and bless the chicken that lays 'em.
Remember Cool Hand Luke? He's got nothin' on me come Easter Monday.

***

Well, as regular FogBlographers (why didn't I think of that before?) will know, I can drone on with an intensity which could send a caged and smoking lab Beagle to sleep, so today I am going to do something different.
In the words of the world-renowned Buitoni Ravioli TV advert from the early 1970's:
Don't talk . . . Eat!
(Actually, go on, search for a picture of a tin of Buitoni . . I dare you . . you won't find one . . again . . why?)
I am going to let the pictures do the talking and save my fingers the walking.
I will refer new readers back to The Ralph Gibson Experiment Part 1 and The Ralph Gibson Experiment Part 2, in which the whole ludicrous thing is explained, but if you are short of time, here's a précis:
The preface is simple:

Make photographs with a standard shutter speed that does not change and a standard aperture that does not change. All that needs to change is the focus, and even then . . .
Have a standardised processing procedure.
The camera I used is a 1960 Leica M2 - it's as sweet as a nut and I love it. The lens is an uncoated 1934 Leitz 50mm Elmar. It lacks contrast, so to help things, it is also fitted with a FISON lens hood.
The film is developed in a particularly strong solution of Agfa Rodinal (or R09 as it is now known) - Mr.Gibson's objective was to achieve a dense negative, and strangely this has helped me, delivering better results from the rather soft Elmar that are more akin to a modern coated lens.

I'll detail the procedure now:

SHUTTER SPEED: Well Mr.Gibson states his sunny day shooting speed is 1/250th of a second, however this is Scotland (Hoots!) and I chose to use 1/125th of a second, just in case.
APERTURE: Ralph uses a standard f16. He believes this gives his pictures a uniformity. It is a very cleaver move because it removes all faffing around and means you concentrate on the picture. I used f16 for every picture on this film.
FILM: he uses Kodak Tri-X, with EI's ranging from 400 down to 100.
DEVELOPER: Agfa Rodinal (or R09 as it is now known). He uses this at a dilution of 1+25 and a temperature of 68° Farenheit, with a 10 second agitation every 1 minute and 30 seconds, for a total time of 11 minutes.

And that is it.
Simple?
Well yes.
Brilliant?
Well yes, because you are freed of the general process and apart from focusing can make images pretty much on the fly.
My variation on this for this post, is that I had no Tri-X and was down to the last roll of fast film in the house, an expired (November, 2010) roll of Kodak TMY 400.
Because of this, obviously development times were different from Tri-X, so I roughly grabbed a figure out of the air, and settled on 9 minutes, with Ralph's agitation regime. I used 10ml Rodinal to 280ml water in a small Paterson tank. The Massive Development Chart recommends 5 minutes for this combo at EI 400, so this is well over!
The other variation is that for some of the last shots, I took the shutter speed down to 1/15th and 1/60th at f16, simply because the shots were of interiors and through windows. Yes I like the idea of a set speed, but I am not stupid and film is expensive.

Contact Sheet

***

After making two shots at the bus stop, I hit the upper deck of a bus on the way home from work. And as you can see, it has been fine in one shot, but, worried about the unholy way in which the bus was throwing me around and camera shake, I upped the shutter speed to 1/250th and with f16 the combo hasn't worked for shadow detail at all.
The sun was low, but it wasn't exactly dark, but it was a stop too far!

This being said, Frame 3 (the only one at 1/125th) is a corker.
I'll call it The Buddha On The Bus, simply because the rear of the man's head reminds me of Buddha's serene pose.

What isn't seen is his young son, who was running around causing chaos. I think the guy just closed his eyes for a second and assumed this serene pose!

The Buddha On The Bus

Now certainly, on my monitor at work, this seems too contrasty, and very dark (and the same for the rest too - you might need to adjust accordingly) but at home and of course in the actual print, there is a nice glow and the subtleties of the shadows work very well.
I am also happy with the fact that it looks kind of weird because of the composition.

Printing-wise, I tried to get as Gibson-esque as possible with this. It was printed on Kentmere Fineprint VC fibre-based paper at Grade 5. Now that is a nominal Grade 5 simply because the paper is really old. Filtration was 130 units of Magenta on my DeVere 504. The lens was the El-Nikkor 50mm f2.8, new version. It looks quite contrasty doesn't it. I think it has almost transformed the look I get from the Elmar, and yet at the left of frame, there is that lovely Elmar OOFA (out of focus area).

I was pleasantly surprised.

***

Cheese

Next up was a grabbed shot in St.Andrews of a Saturday morning. It was one of those things - a whole bunch of people were gathered around this bloke applying window stickers to a bank. It looked quite surreal, so I just set a hyper-focal distance on the Elmar and went in like a sniper, one shot. The chap on the left looks like he has been stuck on, and strangely the shadow inbetween the two men looks like it is something out of Peter Pan, if you know what I mean.

I love the super-cheesy look on the model's face, don't you? and also the fact that someone has smeared the remnants of a 'kerry-oot' over the window near her face . . .

The world's (nearly) richest students?

Come on guys . . . keep yer lovely town clean.

Again, this is on Kentmere and a full-on Grade 5.

***

The next frame I am saving till second last as I am very happy with it. So I'll substitute in this one:

Cardboard Cat

Why on earth someone would have a cardboard cut-out of a cat in their window, I have absolutely no idea! But they did, so I took a not very good picture of it. As you can maybe tell a bit, the film/dev and lens combo have made sterling work of the tracery of the curtain.
Old Elmar's seem to work very well in the medium/close range . . in other words, really, I believe they were optimised for people photography. Too close can be a bit mushy, infinity too, but in the 5 to 10 feet range, marvellous!
This was a Grade 3 print, but I reckon could have done with more, so I gave it a sharpish bath in Potassium Ferricyanide to tickle the highlights up a bit, and it has sort of worked. As I say, I don't think I am getting the full range of grades from the Kentmere paper as it is a number of years old.

***

Self Portrait With Dirt

OK - another one of my dirty window pictures. I tried to get in as close as possible with the Elmar, but I have just mucked it up as the dirt isn't as crisp as I wanted it to be.
This being said I rather like the ominous look of my reflection in this - it suggests something 'other-worldy' if you get my drift. This was a Grade 4 print.

***

Now I am going to shove in the print which should have come before the cat. I love this. 

It was one of those photos: I saw the shop display of the girls whispering, saw the street reflected in the window, and waited till the woman was walking in the right part of the frame and bingo.

Have You Heard About Her?

What I just love about this is that you can see the girls whispering to each other "Have you heard about her?" and there she is reflected . . Walls have Ears etc etc.

I did actually print this a tad too dark, so have had to selectively pot-ferry the faces. This was simple enough to do - about half a teaspoon of crystals to about 300 ml of water; mix well; remove print from wash, let its wetness stick it to the back of an empty developing tray and use a shower head to wash the print as you are doing it; then paint the solution onto the areas required and almost immediately wash off - keep repeating till desired lightness is achieved; give print a good final blast of water and pop it back into some film strength fix for a minute or so. 

If results aren't still to your liking, then repeat the procedure. 

It is important to return the print to the fix, and the reason I use film strength is so that the print isn't in the fixing solution for a prolonged period of time..

Sectional Enlargement - 800 DPI

The sectional enlargement of one of the girl's eyes gives you an idea of how big the grain can be with this combo . . it isn't alarming. Also bear in mind that scanning isn't an actual substitute for seeing a print. In the print, the grain is super-crisp and quite a delight.

***

And onto my final frame, although it was an extra one, so number 37.

This was taken at Vision - Dundee's 'digital hub'. 13 units to rent, and only 3 occupied. It is a beautiful looking building inside and just the sort of place that should be rethinking its strategy and using its great space for exhibitions and workshops and things. I was so taken by the light and the reflection in the window and also the look of the window through the window and the tree in the car park that I had to make this. It was made by bracing the camera against the window and taking things down to 1/15th. This is easy to do with a Leica as there is no mirror flapping around making a nuisance of itself. I will happily say I love it.

By Evening's Light

I made the print darker than I should have and again there has been selective bleaching to the window and the highlights, but I feel it works. It is sort of a 'nature is just waiting to reclaim all this' picture, and I am fond of making such images.

Again, Grade 5 on Kentmere, oh and I forgot to mention - all prints were developed in Kodak Polymax and fixed with Agfa Agefix.

***

And that's it folks - hope you enjoyed it.
I suppose it does take a modicum of courage from me to stick the contact sheet at the start - my heart is on my sleeve . . . you can see my rubbish as well as my decent bits, but hey that's walking around with a camera!
Again, any questions or anything, please feel free to ask!
You should have a go at using Ralph's regime - it is surprisingly flexible and gives results which can surprise and please.
As usual, take care, God Bless and thanks for reading.

This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us

Mornin' m'hearties!
Well, Mog decided this week that he would act like a cowboy. Pretty unusual you would think, and especially because he is a cat, but there you go . . there's no accounting for some folk.
It was quite a job fitting him with them there leather chaps, especially because fur and leather are a bit of a mismatch when nature ain't taking a hand.
We finally managed to get him fully greased up with a dob o ship's lard though - he looked pretty weird, but we's got there.
Sheephouse was delighted - he thought it quite a hoot and bounced all over the midships shouting things at the top of his voice like:
"Put it there pard . . "
and
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeha, Doggies!"
Even Mog found the last one amusing - imagine calling a cat a dog, that would be like calling Sheephouse a photographer.
We had fun though, barrel riding and having a bit of a hoe-down.
It's amazing what sort of dances you can set to a shanty. I even managed a Do-Si-Do to "That Whale Took My Boys Down To Davey Jones' Locker, Damn His Eyes" which is a particularly jolly ditty written by some cove from Kernow.
Here's a little snippet:

That whale, boys
He took us down
10 fathoms, O-hey-O.
I thought my boys
We's goin' to drown
20 fathoms, O-hey-O

15 more 
And still we dive
Hey boys, O-hey-O.
Just five more
And then we'll die
40 fathoms, O-hey-O

It's a jolly tune, but can go on a tad long, being of about 40 verses and very detailed along the lines of The Shoals O'Orkney and Lying Off The Larboard Side and all that sailory stuff.
Anyway, a good time was had by all, though we've had to scrub Mog about 10 times with carbolic to get the lard out.
He wasn't happy about that, no sir.

***

I, Herman Sheephouse, being of feeble mind and sound body, do here declare that over recent years I have been extraordinarily focused. Literally.

You see for the age of a pig (a great expression and I have no idea where it came from) I did all my printing through an 80mm f5.6 El-Nikkor lens. This covered me, as most of my photographs were 6x6cm and 6x4.5cm.
Darkroom life was happy and very simple!
But then one day I went and spoiled everything and purchased a Pentax 6x7 and when that went back to the vendor (because it was faulty), a Sinar F . . and consequently, after I discovered that contact printing a 5x4" negative didn't really work (to my eyes anyway), I ended up packing away my lovely Meopta Magnifax enlarger and purchasing a DeVere 504 with a 150mm Rodagon.

So that was me up to two enlargers, two enlarger lenses and the ability to print everything from 35mm up to 5x4.

Everything was fine, until I received the second great gift. (The first great gift, was a truly lovely Nikomat FT [1965] and an early compensating type, 55mm Nikkor [the sharpest lens I own in the close-up range - honest, they used them to film Star Wars!]).

The second great gift was a HUGE box of Nikon gear from the parents-in-law of my friend Canadian Bob. If you are of sound mind and body, look away now, because imagine being a keen photographer and receiving this lot:

Nikon F Photomic S, Nikon F2S, 

50mm f1.4 Nikkor, 35mm f2 Nikkor

105mm f4.5 Nikkor, 300mm  f4.5 Nikkor, 

500mm f8 Nikkor-C mirror lens, 80-200mm, f4.5 Zoom Nikkor

Add to this, all appropriate cases, lens caps, rear caps, converters, manuals etc etc, and you'll being to see why I call it the great gift. Everything was in superb condition, and even though it had seen a semi-professional life, it had been carefully cared for. I paid the robber barons of UK customs £90 in fees and duty, and it all arrived.

I was overwhelmed to start off with simply because I hadn't thought properly inside the 35mm frame since college. But I eventually ended up approaching it with gusto, moving out into the dawn light with mostly the F2 and the 35mm lens.
It was a revelation.
I was no longer tied to a tripod as I was with my Sinar and to an extent with my Rollei. I could shoot as many pictures as I wanted, though actually, I still found that my Medium Format Discipline worked very well and I tended to compose carefully and hopefully make each frame count (though there are more than many frames of utter rubbish).

Here's a print from that earlier time - I like this.
It was made with the 35mm  Nikkor and the F2 and was around the time I started to discover that you could find the whole world in a window.

Bet this makes you feel hungry.
Easily the most bizarre thing I have seen in a shop window.
It's a shame Fuji Neopan 400 is so expensive these days - look at that tonality.

Anyway, I seem to have moved away from the theme of this.

Was there one?

Yep.

Ka-tchow!

This town ain't big enough for the both of us . . .der, der, derder. . . and it ain't me who's going to leave!

As I stated at the start, my adventures into the land of enlargers resulted in me owning two lenses, the 80mm El-Nikkor and the 150mm Rodagon. They are both very fine lenses, however as it always seems to be with photography, somewhere an itch starts and you begin to wonder whether you are getting the optimum sharpness from your lens . .

Now this is dangerous territory, because like all things like this, the search for optimum sharpness doesn't actually result in anything useful . . . or does it? Well such was my actual thinking.

I only print up to 10x8". I could go to 11x14" . . hell I could actually go up to beyond about 23" . . but there's no room for the trays in my darkroom, so I stick to the manageable.

I also wanted a dedicated lens for printing 35mm stuff, so the upshot of my thinking was that I found a good deal on a 1980's 50mm Durst Neonon.
If you don't know about Neonons, basically they were re-badged by Durst but made by usually Schneider or Rodenstock . . . however, they also had lenses made for them by Pentax.
Now this is quite a big thing for Pentax collector's because the company never made enlarging lenses.
Quite unusual don't you think for such an esteemed manufacturer?
I don't know how Durst managed to pursuade them, but they did and they made an excellent job of it too!
50mm Neonons will either say Made in W.Germany or, Made in Japan. Obviously the Japanese ones are Pentax. 

Mine is a very nice example - very sharp indeed and an excellent lens for normal size prints from 35mm negatives.
So, three enlarger lenses and the ability to print anything I fancied . . . you would have thought that would be enough, but no as it has got to be a bit of a mania.
For instance I recently found a 100mm Vivitar VHE for sale for £20. Too nice to turn down. It arrived covered in strands of fungus (and was apparently discovered in a box in a factory unit that was being cleared - it is unused, that is obvious), however some ROR and TLC and I now have a mint condition 100mm Schneider Componon, for that is what it is. There are some who say that the optical formula on these is the same as that of the legendary  Leitz Focotar II's which were made for Leica by the Schneider factory around the same time. Who knows, there certainly was a 100mm f5.6 Focotar II and from what I can find (which is sketchy) the optical formula of the 50mm VHE seems pretty similar to the optical formula of the Focotar II.
All I do know it that the VHE is an excellent and sharp lens.

So, four down . . and even further down madness street I spotted a poor wee orphan. It was huddled in a doorway, weeping quietly. I kept an eye on it for a number of weeks and it wasn't going anywhere. My heart broke and I took it in . . .
A 50mm f2.8 El-Nikkor - the second version.
It was a stone-cold 'dusty optics' bargain from Ffordes .  . whipping out an SK Grimes spanner wrench, I removed the rear element, used a Giottos blower, and hey presto . . mint condition lens . . £19.99.
Hard to believe really - they were over £100 when they were being manufactured . . .

Now a lot has been written about the f2.8 Nikkor, but what really swayed me and made me trust this orphan, was reading the books Darkroom and Darkroom 2 on Lustrum Press.
Just about everyone interviewed for the books was using this lens to print 35mm, so I thought why not . . . and you know what? It's reputation is deserved. I am delighted with it.

I decided to use it for a print session, and was very pleased with its ease of use and sheer quality.

Printed with a 50mm El-Nikkor, 14 sec, f8
Grade 2 on fairly old Kentmere Fine Print VC Glossy.
Kodak Polymax, Kodak stop, home-made plain fix.
400 Dpi scan.

I am happy with this print, though it is one of the world's duller photographs.
I made it on 8x10" Kentmere Fineprint FB VC.
It's an OK print but nothing special, and has gone into the big box of prints (unsleeved). Only my favourites go into sleeves.

So, from here, this is where it starts to get crazy.

Five enlarger lenses in, and a thought struck me during this session that I had three 50mm lenses to hand (there's one I haven't mentioned yet!) and time on my hands . . how about testing them in a practical way for me. Not MTF charts and all that stuff, but real prints and sections of prints, so, I thought, why not give it a shot. The above seemed a suitable candidate as the lettering was clear, but still has that hand-held element of slight unsharpness and would hopefully do the job. I wasn't going to be scientific about this - I like making prints not studying my navel, so I strapped on my leather chaps, had a tot o' red-eye in the Last Chance Saloon, girded my loins, gulped in some courage and came out shooting.

Firstly, there was only one way to go with the enlarger and that was up - as high as possible.

Were I to actually print this, the image size would be 25¾ x 17 inches!

My darkroom is a tight space.
The DeVere topped out and was jammed up against the ceiling - it could have gone  higher (if the ceiling weren't so low).
For the benefit of the photograph, my easel isn't in this picture.

The victim's were as stated: El Nik; Sergio Neone and . . . a stranger in town.
He'd ridden in on a dusty old donkey, climbed down, pulled back his poncho and positioned himself outside the corral. I was friendly and offered him a drag of an old charoot I was chawin'. He accepted and came in. He was a wizened geezer, but he still looked tough . . .
Turned out he was one of those immigrants from Germany. His name was The Old Timer.
This was going to be messy, but I had to know who could be the guy for the job.

Each lens was set at the same aperture, for consistency, though in the case of the Elmar it was approximate, as it moves from f6.3 to f9 . . . and from there I set up my easel, focused very carefully with my Omega critical focuser, and eased some 6x4" paper into the slots . . .
All prints were exposed and processed for the same length of time.

50mm Nikon El-Nikkor (N), f8

50mm Leitz Elmar, f8 (approx)

50mm Pentax/Durst Neonon, f8

                     

Now there are a few things quite remarkable about this . . .
Firstly it is extraordinary how much you can squeeze out of a properly processed 35mm negative . .
And secondly, that paper I used for the sections was Jessops own-brand resin coated . . it was roughly ten years old. It hadn't been kept frozen, indeed I had forgotten I had it, only discovering it in a pack of Silverprint Proof . . I knew it was Jessops because it was 6x4" and I'd only ever bought that size from Jessops.
Astonishing quality for a RC paper. No compensation for loss of speed or grades. I think it may well be re-branded Fotospeed - again, not many people use Fotospeed RC however I will flat out say it is the best resin coated paper on the market bar none. It just seems to exude quality, more so than Ilford or Agfa/Adox. If I had to print on RC, that would be my choice. In fact I would say that of all RC papers it is the only one I would consider of exhibition quality . . and that is saying something

Anyway, another thing I would say about this little lot, is that it is remarkable how similar they all look.

So I have gone one step further and scanned the prints at 720 DPI . . . thinking this will separate the dogs from the pups . . the judgement is all yours dear reader.

El-Nikkor, Section 720 Dpi

Neonon, Section 720 Dpi

Elmar, Section 720 Dpi

Yes, there are obvious differences, however when you weigh it all up and consider that we are talking markedly different lenses here the differences aren't that massive are they.

The Nikkor, is I think the winner. It has rendered the grain very sharply, with a good balanced contrast. 

The Durst is also very good indeed, though it hasn't quite resolved the text quite as sharply. For a lens that cost £15 secondhand it is still an excellent performance, but then I suppose it is a 1980's Pentax lens so what do I expect. 

The surprise for me is the Elmar. The story behind it? It is a 1934 uncoated lens - I use it for making pictures on a regular basis.

Stop the presses . . hold on.

A lowly lens from before the Second World War?

Can you Adam and Eve it? 

Oh sure, it was fairly difficult to focus and the grain was very mushy wide-open at f3.5. Stopping down was difficult due to the aperture control on the lens, but against all odds, it has rendered the lettering very well.

Certainly, there is a slight mushiness, but remember we are dealing at an enlargement size way beyond what it was ever intended for. I should think that for my standard printing size (10x8") it would be alright.

The other surprise about it is that it has given the image a very smooth quality which I quite like, and it has made me wonder whether it might be worth trying out some of those old uncoated Schneiders you see on eBay . . . .

Obviously when it comes down to practical everyday darkroom use, the Nikon and Durst win hand's down with their lovely illuminated aperture controls. As I have already said, an old Elmar's aperture control is difficult to use in daylight and almost impossible in the dark. But if you lost everything and this was all you had left, you would still be able to make decent prints with it . . . folks . . that'll be a future FB methinks!

So there you go - madness and lots of it.

I'd actually love to have a massive Alamo-style shootout with all sorts of different lenses. . it would be interesting, but I don't know if I am quite mad enough.

Anyway, just to prove that the session wasn't entirely an exercise in tomfoolery, here's a genuine print from it.

Gofos And Ena Just Love Dundee's Waterfront Project
December 2012

The negative was made on a cold late Winter's afternoon (approx 3.30PM and the light was going!) and I was footering around down by 'Vision' - Dundee's 'digital hub'.

Basically it is a massive white elephant in the heart of the city, down where the old railway yards and sidings used to be. I remember the area being full of coal and trains back in the 1980's, but now it is full of recently constructed empty buildings thanks in no part to the British Government's attitude towards tax breaks for computer games programming. Foreign governments give healthy ones and value the industry, and in Britain we don't, so consequently the much predicted coming 'golden age' of games programming didn't happen here.

If you are interested in such things, Dundee was an early player in the industry - it was the place where they programmed Lemmings (remember that?) and Grand Theft Auto . . so we have a hell of a lot to account for! 

Duncan Disorderly College Of Art in Dundee still has a hefty investment in animation and programming and so on and it is considered to be a key course . . . a heady change from the day when someone broke the Quantel machine . . 

Anyway - I used the 1960 Leica M2 and the 1934 50mm Elmar. Do I like old cameras? Erm . . .

The film was expired TMY2 400 rated at approximately EI 400, though I was guessing exposures . . . 

It was developed in HC110 Dilutuion B for 7 mins and 30 secs at 21 Centigrade.

I printed it on ancient Kentmere FB VC and used the newly acquired 50mm El-Nikkor. The grain is crisper than a family bag of Walkers . . . I am going to really like using this lens.

Two other things - firstly, the physical print is great I love it and it is sleeved, so I must like it. It has cockled a bit on the edges, but that's the paper for you.

Secondly, greyscale scanning on my scanner imparts a greenish hue, which makes it look terrible, like a non-selenium toned bromide print from years back if you can remember that . . . .

Also you cannot get the full quality of a nice glossy proper silver gelatin print from the web . . go to an exhibition and see some in the flesh - they will knock you out.

It was a weird photograph to make. I'd pushed through a broken fence, turned around, and there was a frog's face! Yes it is very low contrast, not least because of the failing light, however the Elmar has actually rendered things very crisply. The detail of the screwheads is there, so I must have had a steady hand that day . . . 

Anyway, as usual thanks for sticking in - I have had fun doing this and spent a number of hours of my life writing it all up. Hope you found it interesting. Please let me know.

Take care and God Bless.