Quiet Byways In Fife

Sadly, with a warning of severe weather predicted for mountainous regions, I swore off (and at) the snow and freezing rain predicted for my first spot of camera time in months.
A PLAN B was needed, so I put on my thinking cap, and (given that the sun doesn't crest the Tay Valley till around 8am [in the Winter]) thought better of risking life and limb in the mountains and plumped instead for a local, but quiet, bit of The Fife Coastal Path - Wormit to Balmerino.

Field Edge, Fife Coastal Path, December 2018

But before that, a word about how I am going to do FB posts this year . . hold your excitement there man . .

Most photographers don't air their dirty pants in public , , you only get the crisply ironed ones (who the feck irons pants, but apparently it is a thing so who am I to judge . . ).

So, in the interests of the skid-marked, fart-shredded and un-ironed variety (or is that just me) I have decided to detail each film in their completeness.
I'll tell you how it came to be, then there'll be a scan of the contact print (stains and all . . there is nowhere to hide) and then you'll get choice prints made from the negatives.

The reason for this?

Well, I was thinking about it - a film is in itself a creative process, whether you realise it or not.
If you are out photographing, you might well be subconsciously following something.

Of course, you could just be snapping at anything and everything, but I am not talking about random bombing, I'm talking about your 'journey' (ugh . . overused these days? YOU BET).
OK, not 'journey' how about:

 Arc Of Travel

You load a film and set off with something in mind . . you do don't you?
I do.
I generally photograph for a purpose, that being to finish a film that hopefully contains some photographs I like.
It is a sort of Arc Of Travel and often I can see that in my contact prints - they detail where I have walked and travelled in a timeous manner . . . who knows, they might even show some sort of thought process or signs of life and not just my usual drooling gait!
The shutter of my camera takes slices out of the time I spent doing that activity and preserves something extra - an adjunct as it were, to my memory.

I remember the walk; I can describe it to someone easily. But to make that memory physical and of meaning to someone else, I need to refer to the photograph.

Now what if that photograph (as well as being a record of the photons bouncing off everything) has also managed to preserve some of the atmospherics, that I felt at the time?

I'm not talking about filming it, because that is photography without decision making; it might preserve the sounds and motions of the landscape, but has it captured any of you and your thought process?
Is this the distinct difference between the moving and the still image?
A definite URGE to take one small bit of time and subject and make it yours?

A giant widdle on the lampost of eternity?

I don't know.
Not to denigrate film-making - I'm sure film-makers would say that they've managed to capture some of their self in their work - maybe that is true.
It requires further thought and navel-gazing from me . . .

Anyway, with regard to photographs, some speak loudly, but others are mute.

And (long way around as usual) I guess this is why I am going to air everything.

Because, as I said, some sing loudly with a lusty bellow, and others are quieter than church mice, but no matter their db's, they are all a part of your AOT (Arc Of Travel).

The contact print reveals all.

Your choices, your composition, possibly even your thought process.

There is, as they say, NOWHERE TO HIDE:

Jings, did he really compose that?

Out of focus!

Camera shake?

Nice foreground but look at that bokeh!
Not that AGAIN.

The morning I was thinking and writing about this, I coincidentally got an email from Bruce of TOD and he said the following:

"Plus, I've noticed there's a process I go through. It seems difficult for me to jump out of the car, identify the best photo opportunity and take the shot (as I'd have to do with LF). Rather, I work my way into it. The process of exposing film seems to hone my photographic senses. The first shot I take of a scene is hardly ever the best. The good stuff seems to happen when I get right into it. It's like there's a shift in the way my brain works. I can't do that with LF or even MF. "

Very coincidental don'tcha think?

Oooh, I thought, there must be something to what I am saying if someone else is thinking the same way, so I thought about it and made a decision that this is the way I am going.
I might also thoroughly detail each frame (certainly when showing a 120 contact . . maybe not a 35mm, and half-frame . . well . . ) and film and process.

Hopefully it won't be yawn city - maybe it will be . . . but what it will show, will be the process of thinking (hardly) and how things went along.
So without further ado it's time for a baked bean and sprout curry with extra sauce and a side dish of boiled cabbage and pinto beans . . .
Ooo, and see that bowl of Kimchi . . .

Brace yourselves . . . 

Thruuuuuuuuuuuupppppppppppppp!

Here we go:

 FILM # 66/51

FILM # 66/51

Right, so here's my notes for each frame - seems dull - maybe it is . . but tough:

First film >120< taken since   the weekend of 16/6/18!

1./ 5 sec - - - - - > 10 sec, f16 ZIII - Very Dark

2./ 8 sec - - - - - > 19 sec, f16, ZIII - Copse

3./ 8 sec - - - - - > 19 sec, f16, ZIII - Gate

4./ 3 sec - - - - - > 6 sec, f22, ZIII - Field Edge

5./ 3 sec - - - - - > 6 sec, f22, ZIII - Coppice/Field Edge

6./ 4 sec - - - - - > 7 sec, f22, ZIII - Wood

7./ 1 sec - - - - - > 4 sec, f22, ZIII - Path

8./ 1 sec, f22, ZIII - Fallen Trees

9./ 1/60th, f8, ZIII - Horse, Handheld

10./ 1/2 sec, f22, ZIII   - Reeds

11./ 1/30th, f5.6, Z???, Seal, Guessed, Handheld

12./ 8 sec - - - - - > 19 sec, f16, ZIII - Sitting Room

All tripod/cable unless noted.

- - - - -> Denotes an extended exposure time due to reciprocity.

I've no pretensions about the photographs - they're OK, but at least I was doing something!
It was a really enjoyable walk, with the first mile or so conducted in near darkness. I do so love watching dawn arrive and, because of the nature of the path I was able to do so without the massive buffeting the wind was doing on the other side of the hills.
It's easy walking this bit of the path, although I would caution against heading down to the tempting looking bits of shoreline (though you'd have to massively scramble down - they're pretty steep) as the tide will get you.
Anyway, keeping to the path itself, I encounted nobody till I was on my way back, which is sort of the way I like things actually.

Camera was the Hasselblad SWC/M; tripod was my faithful Gitzo, and the film was Ilford Delta 400, rated at EI 200 and developed in Pyrocat-HD for 21 minutes at 22º C.
I no longer use a water bath to pre-bathe the film - it seemed ineffectual - so it is straight on, constant gentle agitation for 30 seconds and then 4 agitations every minute up to 17 minutes. Then I let it stand to 21 Mins.
Stop is 3 changes of fresh water.
Fix is around 6 minutes.
Then washing at the end.
Finally it gets the dreaded Photo-Flo treatment - I've never had much luck with any wash-aid, they all seem to cause all sorts of gunk on the film.
With Photo-Flo, take ONE drop to 1200ml of water, mix the drop gently, VERY VERY GENTLY through the water with your fingers (like you were tickling a trout) and then leave the film on the reel (in the solution) for about 5 minutes.
You have to be careful not to create foam when removing it to hang.
Again gentleness pays dividends.

I've mentioned this before - my darkroom is furnished with an Astrid Ioniser that keeps dust levels down a fair bit.
The reason for this? Well, if you really want to be scared when you've hung a film, just turn out the lights and use a torch to look behind you as you exit. The levels of dust revealed by the light beam are usually through the roof and completely sobering.
Thus, the Astrid. It is a great thing.
I used to use an old Mountain Breeze ioniser, but that expired a few years back - and the reason I went that route in the first place? Well, it was a tip from the late Barry Thornton and it made sense to me. Since I took on his ioniser tip I've rarely had to spot any print.
I know it seems like the strangest darkroom accessory ever, but it works.

Oh, and I've got a tip for removing dust from film too - that's in the printing section after this next bit!

Assessing the contact:
Contact prints are always a compromise - I tend to print mine on Grade 2 and take it from there, but typing this has reminded me that Ansel Adams in The Print (I believe) recommended printing them on the softest grade possible to maximise your eyeballing of potentially good prints and I think that is maybe something I will try out in the future . . . thank you brain!
Anyway, the above was a solid Grade 2 and printed to try and maximise each frame (though somewhat unsuccessful on that front). There was an old Barry Thornton adage too - minimum time for maximum black - which referred to using the film rebates (the black gridwork as it were) as an assessment of the correct exposure time for a contact. Now that's alright if every frame is perfectly exposed, but as you can see, these aren't.

I'm going to do a metering 101 in an upcoming FB simply because, the last 120 film I took was completely screwed up by a total brain-fart on the metering front by me . . . but hey, this isn't chimping and checking every photograph on a LCD screen - this is photography.
Chance will ALWAYS play a part!

Anyway, onto the prints (at last, you cry!).

I had two small session with this lot - Prints 1, 2 and 3 were printed on Ilford MGRC; Print 4 was printed on Ilford Galerie - Grade 2.
All prints were developed in Kodak Polymax which is liquid Dektol, the legendary cold to neutral print developer. They were fixed in Tetenal Fix. Print 4 was selenium toned.

Here's the dusty bit:

I always pass a negative between my first and second finger in a light wiping motion - pair of finger scissors - close 'em - pull it through. Dust is removed, and particles of gunk aren't deposited over the film - you can also feel the film this way. It's robust stuff. Try it and stop worrying.
If you're using glass carriers, a quick wipe with the back of your hand, removes 99.9% of the dust and eliminates the static that causes it to cling like a nylon dress to your tights (or is that just me?) - it sounds disastrous, but it works beautifully. 
This is a combination of tips from Barry Thornton and the woman who I watched printing from HCB archive negatives - they are simple and effective techniques. 

There - that's saved you a swift twenty for one of those horrible anti-static brushes!

Print 1

Print 2

Print 3

Print 4

Right - have you had a deco at those?

What's that at the back Atkins?
Yes, go on man? 
Contrast?
Yes, c'mon on, spit it out.
Hmmm - they do don't they.

To me, they all look remarkably similar with regard to contrast, yet Print 4 is a standard Grade 2. OK the selenium has given the blacks an extra edge, but it is subtle . . so what is going on?
Well I guess any printing paper is going to have to be a compromise between light sources - according to Ilford's literature, you can expect a difference of around a Grade (!) between condenser and diffusion heads. They also state that Multigrade paper needs a bit of adjustment to reach an acceptable Grade. It took me a while and a lot of trial and error to realise that using MGRC I needed to print on at least Grade 3 to get a print I found acceptable. I've never used MGFB but given the emulsion is the same then that should hold true for that too.

I think this is why I absolutely prefer printing on Galerie . . . there's something about printing on the old warhorse that just seems right. There's no farting about, no split-grade options . . just a quality emulsion on a quality base that will deliver an excellent print if you are careful. Add on this the possibilities of bleaching and toning should you feck it up, then like I said, it's a no-brainer. Expensive, YES, but in terms of wastage and time, I think the cost is probably acceptable.

It was Joe McKenzie who introduced me to it back in the 80's. Galerie then was slightly different - the blacks had a modicum (and I mean a tad) of greenishness to them - this was sorted by selenium toning - that's what Joe always did and I guess I have followed his regime ever since. This being said, these days the blacks on Galerie are neutral - no green, so you don't really have to tone if you haven't got the time or can't be arsed.

If you're still unsure about using it, save a bit of cash and buy a 25 pack - again, not cheap, but it will give you an idea. You'll be really surprised that an 'ordinary' fixed Grade 2 paper, can handle so many variations on a negative . . but it can. And that is part of its beauty. You really don't need to go down the split-grade route. Time spent in the dark can be exhausting - you want something that can lead you down the path to a nice print and not to have to worry about procedure.

I've said it before and to many people - with an average negative, there's a good chance that you can produce an acceptable print by just printing on one grade (and yes, this even works on multi-grade paper . . just because you have the ability to change grade on the fly, doesn't mean that you actually have to).
Sometimes an 'acceptable' print isn't always possible using one grade (say in the case of heavily underexposed film) and then I would advocate manipulation with dodging/burning/bleaching/toning . . . but on the whole, printing should be a relatively simple process.
You really don't need a wizard's cloak and a split grade printing degree - that has always seemed like over-complication to me.
But that's just me - if you disagree, feel free to come round for an afternoon stuffed into my tiny darkroom with me and the DeVere - just bring a gas mask and a SWAT team..

Anyway, that's a pile of reading you've done to get to here.
WELL DONE.
I've no idea why you've read all this, but if you've been able to take any wee tips from my own personal procedures, and (most importantly) have found them to work, then good.
I am chuffed about that.
As I said at the start, I think this is the way FB is going to go from now on . . but maybe with not as much explanation.
So, till the next time - happy hunting, take care, and if you know anyone who wants 200 tons of excess sprouts, use the contact form at the side of the page

Complex Brexit Negotiations

Morning folks - well, after the doom and gloom of the last post, I've only gone and done it!

Whit? Biled Yer heid at last Y'big lummock?

Er, no, not quite, and forgive the above local parlance.

Y'see, I live (according to the BBC) in one of the newest, most urgent, creative cities in the world - yes, it's Dundee . . .

As a creative icon (sic) of said city, I can write what I want, so get it up ye!

WTF Sheepy? WTF??

Well, the V&A Dundee has opened to 'worldwide' acclaim, and though I am not from here (just entrenched as it were) I can say that my heart has swollen with civic pride at the thought of all that Scottish-Central-Belt-Bias being coughed out in surprise, that the Wee Hard Toon has such an iconic, beautiful and, I believe, game-changing building. A lot of people in Glasgow and Edinburgh will now be asking:

"Why Haven't We Got One Of Those?"

No pretensions though - this town will bring you down to earth with a bump if you get too Up Yersel'.

Anyway, back to what I only went and done:

I travelled . . . to foreign climes . . . well, the eye of The Storm actually . . . Brussels . . . with film and a film camera!

Actually, this is the second time we've been there, having fallen in love with the mad place a few years back. I know it sounds boring, everyone thinks it is a boring place filled with dull Belgians, wittering on about complex things . . and you know what . . no way is that true. 

Anywhere that can give you a statue of a giant Smurf (and I HATE Smurfs) that makes you laugh, or a museum dedicated to the most wonderful Magritte, or one dedicated to Sewers, or a totally bonkers cafe with over 2500 Belgian beers in stock, should be praised. Anywhere that can cover the link between the mess of the 21st Century and the hard idyll of medieval times with such panache and downright individuality is alright with me.

Brussels is a 24/7/365 sort of place - there's something happening all the time. It is also achingly photogenic from beautiful buildings to parks, to dogs, to rough bars, to traffic, to the pantheon of all races lumped together in one place - a real city of mankind. We felt sad to leave actually - it felt to me like a place I could live and I am not a city person.

Anyway, X-Rays, film and travelling:

Well, y'know there's a lot of conflicting info out there, so take it from me, a confirmed film nut:

Up to a certain point, travelling normally and passing hand luggage through a few scanners, you are more than likely fine.

Mine was Ray-Gunned 3 times in total in my hand luggage and it has lived to tell the tale. In fact the bag inspector looked at my Tri-X and said:

"Och that's only 400, not 3200 . . . it'll be fine!"

 

And sure enough. Even taking it through the scanners in the European Parliament, it was fine, so, please take it from me:

It'll be fine!

So, on that note, why did I take a 35mm camera after making my avowed stance on the last FB? 

Well, convenience actually and also reliability. I nearly freaked out and fell back on the Sony A6300, but was firm with myself, had a good chat behind closed doors, steeled my will and packed the Nikon F3 with the Ai-s 28mm f2.8 Nikkor.

I had wanted to take the Rollei T, but the last film I had through it showed some serious frame spacing issues, and I also felt that should I encounter problems with taking a few rolls of Tri-X through scanning, how would that be exacerbated with 120 film?

So, good ol' reliable Nikon. Not the M2 with Summaron - I often think you can look like a 'target' with a Leica - though to be fair it is very unusual to see ANYONE with a film camera these days. Even the mega giant Nikon and Canon SLR's and holiday compacts seem to have been supplanted entirely by phones - how fecking sad . . . whilst a phone is convenient, I laughed aloud when I saw what an iPhone did to direct sunlight on someone's holiday photos (Is that a lump of ectoplasm or an amorphous blob worthy of Ghostbusters? Nope, it's the sun!). 

It takes a fine photo in the right circumstances, but it is not a camera.

Anyway, gripes aside, I had fun with the F3 - sure it is loud and clacky, but it has a damn good metering system and with an Ai-s lens is convenience in itself.

Here's some pics - mostly phun with rephlections. 

The first 5 are prints made on some very old Tetenal RC, developed in Kodak Polymax (liquid Dektol).

Can a litre of paper developer last a year in a bottle? . . . in the case of Polymax . . yes. 

It is genius stuff.

The last two are shitty scans from the negative - I much prefer handling a print.

Tickets Please

Nikon F3, Nikon 28mm f2.8 Nikkor, Kodak Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD, Wet Print - Tetenal RC

Who Is That Weirdo, And Why Is He Taking My Picture?

Nikon F3, Nikon 28mm f2.8 Nikkor, Kodak Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD, Wet Print - Tetenal RC

Hmmmmmm, Sheephouse?

Nikon F3, Nikon 28mm f2.8 Nikkor, Kodak Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD, Wet Print - Tetenal RC

Not Him Again . . .

Nikon F3, Nikon 28mm f2.8 Nikkor, Kodak Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD, Wet Print - Tetenal RC

WTF?

Nikon F3, Nikon 28mm f2.8 Nikkor, Kodak Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD, Wet Print - Tetenal RC

The Correct Use Of A Smurf

Nikon F3, Nikon 28mm f2.8 Nikkor, Kodak Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD, Wet Print - Tetenal RC.

Atoms Dream Of Atoms
Nikon F3, Nikon 28mm f2.8 Nikkor, Kodak Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD, Scan.

Crumhorn Mania
Nikon F3, Nikon 28mm f2.8 Nikkor, Kodak Tri-X, Pyrocat-HD, Scan.

And that is it really - more 'serious' photography will commence shortly, though I have lost a whole Summer of morning light again - never mind, Mushn't Grumble . . .

TTFN and remember:

How can I take care of yours if you've not taken care of it yourself?

PS:

Le Grand Schtroumpf is your man!

pmEZ (postmodern End Zone)

OK, and good morning to you. Firstly I will apologise (again) for the length of this FB. I know, your time is precious . . so is mine.
And I really have tried to be snappy and fine-tuned this time, but when you are drawing together all the threads it is really hard.

Anyway, I've been stuck on anything to write for FB for a few weeks and (I know I am rather late to the table) I seem to have come to the conclusion that photography, my photography, everybody's photography has little meaning in this world.
Everything is running at such a pace.
Visual stimulation overwhelms.
We're saturated in a tidal surge of imagery.
To put it bluntly (and you'd better make sure your Mum isn't in earshot):

What The Fuck Is The Point?

At one time, not that long ago, you'd think to yourself, hmmm, I quite enjoy using Dad's Instamatic/Braun/Cheap 35mm Compact et al. 

You'd maybe speak to someone about it and if you were lucky (and that driven) you'd have a nice camera shop nearby; the recipient of your hot breath and nose-grease as you admired all those wonderful looking machines stacked in the window. 

Maybe some friend of your parents' would say "Look, I know a bit about it" and would help you out with choices gleaned from those well-thumbed, creased corners of Amateur Photographer. 

You'd save your money and go to sleep thinking about, how, if you were lucky, you could afford that Praktika, or K1000, or OM10 or Nikkormat. Your savings were concentrated and your scrimping meant that one day, say on a nice bright Saturday, you could prep yourself, head down to that camera shop and ask (a bit hesitantly) whether it would be possible for you to have a look at your machine of choice.
Of course, the assistant would smell the hot breath and sweat of passion coming off you like a bulb of hot garlic in a blackened room, he'd recognise that feeling, recognise the sweat in your palms as a Nikkormat was handed over.
If the shop was nice and concerned about the sale (and had its own D&P service) they'd let you have a roll of 12 or 24 exposure film and try the camera out!
Of course, they didn't need to tell you how to use it because you knew. 

But OH, the tactility of that feeling; the solid weight of your first 'proper' camera, the lovely smooth and firm action of a new focus helicoid, and the wonderful light click of an aperture ring. The solid thwack of a mirror returning.
Sheer joy!
The beauty of how the whole world turned from just somethng you looked at, to something that concentrated the vision; every movement of your head (as that camera was pressed to your eye [and the viewfinder cleared after being misted by your hot brow]) turned that world, rendered by a standard 50mm lens, into a work of art.
Every new view a place of contemplation and promise.
It was wonderful.
It was a defining moment.

You went back in, the film was processed, but you knew really that what you had been holding in your hands was now yours.
You'd felt that symbiotic relationship between it and you the moment you held it.
This was it!
Man and machine united in a common goal, and in the back of your mind, there was the possibility that maybe one day, you could be lucky enough to hold that world-changing, mind expanding chunk of metal and glass and sheer human ingenuity, to your eye all the time.

That my friends, and I'm sure you'll recognise yourselves in there, was what it was like.

When I started Art College in 1980, we were lucky. We still had the grant system, and not only that, as an Art Student, you were also given an additional grant of around £120 to spend on equipment. I spent mine quickly, on a nice little Olympus OM10, simply because my brother had always used an OM1. 

My friend Russel spent his on a Pentax K1000 and I think, in hindsight, that was the wiser choice; you simply had to learn the basics of exposure in using one, whereas I with my ultra-modern, new-fangled Auto machine, had to learn what I could and couldn't do by watching the LEDs.
I acquired a Manual Adaptor later and that helped, but it is another story . . .

One chap called Robin in our Graphics class had a really nice Nikkormat - I was jealous as hell of that camera - it was solid, black and totally professional looking
I did love my OM10 though - it was a constant and reliable companion. But again, isn't hindsight a fantastic thing, with £100 at that time (the cost of on OM10, 50mm f1.8 Zuiko and case) I could have bought something nice and secondhand that would have given me a greater picture making experience . . never mind, so it goes.

No matter the choices, there's one thing the hot blood of passion can do and that is to instill a love of something that can last a whole life long.

I spent a large chunk of last weekend looking at film cameras on ebay - it was exciting and it also proved that far from being dead, film photography is very much alive and kicking - maybe more-so than it has been in years.
And why?
Well, to me, because as a process it gives your passion savour.
Like a healthy dose of salt in a bland dish, it kickstarts the juices.
Each piece of film is a finite entity.
You can tinker a bit, but if you are taking this seriously, what you want is an end result, preferably printed in a proper darkroom on proper paper.
It is your little slice of eternity:

"I made this!"

Which makes it all the sadder, that all your efforts are for nought.

I know that is quite a damning statement, but let me qualify myself.

Somehow, somewhere along the lines, a quietly brazen insidiousness has crept in.
Everything in our wonderful modern times is oh, I dunno, a piece of piss.
Look, I can publish my thoughts in a snap, for a world of a million readers!
It is easy, and in the same way, a billion people can document the endless inanities of life in 'photographs' and publish that to a world of a billion viewers just like that.
Notice I have used inverted commas around the word, because they might well be slices of time, they might also well be documents, but are they valid? Do they hold any importance for anyone other than the taker? Are they just meaningless wallpaper, to be thumbed away for the next hundred million?
See what I mean?

You, oh trad-photographer, have pursued a passion, a hot sweat of lust and possibility; you've spent time - so much time, so that you can try and distill yourself into that one variation of approximately anywhere between 1 second and 1/2000th of a second.

You've sliced time and made it permanent!

Isn't that an incredible thought?
Because you found something interesting, you invested yourself in one image
Maybe because you thought that image made a point; maybe you just simply thought it looked good in the viewfinder; maybe you were documenting something from your life that meant something to you; whatever your reason for taking that photograph it is a little part of you.

At one time that might have meant something, but I fear that something has gone.
We've been washed away.
Even the slight hold we had on the world of visual arts up to say 5 years ago, has been vanquished.
I hate to turn this into an Us and Them thing, but it really is like that.
As soon as the world could turn that thing they saw into something shared with a million people, our battle was lost.
I'm sure some people will chime in and say this democratisation of visual stimuli is a good thing - surely the world needs the truth and what is photography anything less than the truth or a truth?
Yes, you are right, I agree with you, but you see, maybe stupidly, I take this personally.
My truth was something I had come at from years of looking at things, sifting through the chaff, trying to find my truth and present it in a form that someone else might find interesting.
Maybe they did, maybe they didn't.
All I know is that, that thing, the thing I loved doing, has about as much meaning these days as a fleeting thought in the mind of a madman.

To put it another way, remember way back - about 40 years ago, when, you were quite often forced to sit through slide shows in other people's houses - the ephemera of their lives projected onto a screen; drinks passed round; laughter:

"Look at . . "

"Hah! you didn't do you?!"

You know the sort of thing, some of it was good, a little bit of it was very very good, but most of it was terrible and more imporetantly, of little interest. It showed nothing new that you didn't already know from your own life.
Fact is, it could often be DULL.
Well, nowadays, take that cosy 1970's living room with its Swirly Carpet, Rounded Collars, Party Susans and Arctic Roll and magnify it by 800,000,000 (average number of active Instagram users per month) and then tell me that the image has any meaning any more.

Weird weather? Nope - meaningless
War? Nope - meaningless.
Fun? Nope - meaningless.
Nature? Nope - meaningless.
Political Unrest? Nope - meaningless.
Social Problems? Nope - meaningless.
Change? Nope - meaningless.
Empowerment? Nope - meaningless.
Beauty? Nope - meaningless.

Every single thing that could, at some point in the not too distant past, have made your turn on your heel and say
"Well I never!" 
no longer exists with any meaning, simply because the power of the image has become so diluted by the vast numbers of posts as to make it a thing requiring no thought, no attention and making it almost more commonplace than the air we breath.
It sounds utterly desolute when put like that doesn't it?
It does, because I think it is.

Speaking for myself, I would snap and print away thinking at the back of my mind, maybe someone, somewhere will look at this image of a tree or a weird shadow and go "Gosh!" but that has passed, simply because they have seen it all before.
Everything.
I look through the BJP, through the photo mags, through online stuff, and it is becoming increasingly rare for me to stop and look at something twice, simply because the same subject matter has been explored from every angle a billion times already.
My visual taste has been numbed.
The image is meaningless.
It won't become any more meaningless because it IS already!

So where does that leave you and me?
Well, rather than holding up our hands, selling everything and joining a retreat, I think we have a responsibility.
A HUGE responsibility.

And what might that be Sheepy, you pontificating B'Tard?

OK, want to know? Well, it's this:

Yep - in the words of the immortal Robert Crumb, a message from the past, of hippy hope in the face of adversity. Keep your pecker up. Stick it to THE MAN . . .

Keep On Truckin'

You've got to.
There is no choice.
In much the same way monasteries throughout Europe kept the papyrus and parchment of a more learned time safe(ish) for the future during the Dark Ages, then we, as image makers of 'Permanence', as custodians of  'The Legacy' are going to have to do the same.

Now I know that sounds like a load of old shite, and I fully get where you are coming from, but you see the moment your images are digitised, there is no longer any certainty.
Everything I am writing here is unsafe.
Everything you upload to Clouds,  Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Whatsapp, anything that is stored digitally is not permanent. It might appear to be, after all you trust these big corporations don't you?
Of course you do.
And free(ish) too!!
Amazing!!!
That is very good of them.
But hacking occurs.
If you really want to frighten yourself about data security in the modern age, I urge you to read and subscribe to Krebs On Security.
Yes you can back them up your data to the nth degree (really, can you really really really be bothered doing that again and again, and like Neil's Lucky Gonk, maybe you should employ another Hard Drive just in case the first one fails . . ).
You can print all your images and archive your memory cards.
Good point and fairy snuff - well done that man!.
But the thing is, the majority of recorded human engaged activity these days isn't backed up, it's in the cloud with all the billions of others.
I used to think Solar Activity and EMPs would be the downfall of society, but these days I think that could be largely mitigated . . no, I think of far more worry is the ease with which data can be held to ransom or simply cease to exist at a whim.
Your photos are amongst that data.
I genuinly believe that renders it in danger - maybe not imminent, but all the same, you just don't know.
It is the same with negatives too I suppose and prints - one whim, a billion silverfish, fire, naughty child, poof, they're gone, but, they still stand more of a chance I believe.

Anyway, all this chit-chat is a mere fireside drunken rant aside to the main theme.
I know this seems like a total shoe-horn, but I thought I'd provide a bit of juxtaposition here and show the two extremes of PMEZ photography.
I came across a series of articles on the BBC and Mashable sites and thought I would show a bit of them.
So, first up, the dreaded selfie, technique invented (well sort of) by me and t'missus way way back:

A recent study suggested an obsession with selfies is a genuine condition, called Selfitis.

An urge to take selfies and upload them on social media more than six times a day is chronic selfitis, according to researchers at the Nottingham Trent University and the Thiagarajar School of Management in India.

And Junaid admits his selfie urges can cause friction with loved ones.

"They're like 'can't you go to a meal and not take a picture?'

"And I'm like 'no, I didn't get ready for three hours for no reason'. Why would I not take a picture?"

Junaid says negative comments under his pictures no longer affect him like they used to - but admits to having work done on his face because of the pressure he feels to look a certain way.

"Years ago I never used to look like this. I used to be quite natural. But I just think with the obsession with social media... I want to upgrade myself now.

"I've had my teeth veneered, chin filler, cheek filler, jawline filler, lip filler, botox under the eyes and on the head, tattooed eyebrows and fat freezing."

Junaid, from Essex, says he realises how negative social media can be, but that he doesn't take it too seriously.

"What you see on social media is not the truth," he says.

"Social media is fun using it in the right way. But don't let it affect your life purely because you aspire to be what someone else on Instagram is being... it's just not worth it."

Only 61% percent of social media users believe the selfies they share are an accurate reflection of who they really are.

A new report from Ofcom, which surveyed 1,000 people across the UK, revealed the truth behind our selfie habits.

Almost half admitted editing them before posting and 27% say their photos online make their life look more exciting.

23-year-old Saffana Khan says this is true of her "Insta-life".

"I try to be really fun on Instagram. I try to be 'that' pretty girl - as pathetic as it sounds," Saffana tells Newsbeat.

"I try to seem interesting, probably more interesting than I actually am."

The results of the survey showed that for every selfie shared online, the user would take six photos.

But Saffana can take many more and spend long periods of time taking the perfect photo to post on Instagram.

"I might sit and take photos for 20 minutes, playing around with my phone to get the right angle and the right light to make my features look a certain way," she says.

"I'm not what I look like on social media."

Saffana has 400 followers on Instagram and says she spends an hour a day using the app.

The Ofcom report claims 29% of people spend one to two minutes editing their photos before posting online, but Saffana admits she can spend up to five minutes on hers.

Sometimes, she will filter the photo on Snapchat first and if it doesn't get enough likes, it gets deleted.

"If a photo only has 50 likes I'll wait a couple of days and if it turns out I hate that photo of myself and I don't have enough likes, I'll delete it," she says, adding that she'll check back every seven minutes to see how many likes a photo has.

"60 likes is a definite keeper."

Saffana is a keen gym goer and follows lots of fitness models on Instagram.

A recent study revealed that Instagram was also the social media most likely to have a negative effect on users' mental health.

As a user who spends an above-average amount of time on the app, Saffana understands how this happens.

"Only recently have I got it into my head that I won't necessarily look like the people I follow but that's OK," she says.

"Even now I still struggle with that because it's such a reminder that I don't look this way regardless of the filters and how I can edit my pictures."

Hmmm - lovely and truly informing eh, but I suppose no different to the selfies I took of myself back in the 1970's with a polaroid camera, simply because I could . . but then I've only got a few of those, not 1000's. AND, they're still hanging around like a fart in a lift.
Try saying that of your Instagram selfie in 40 years time!

Next up, the positive side of Instagram.
The Mashable article is a few years old now, but all the same - you can read the full thing here

Instagram has transformed smartphone users into a legion of amateur photographers, handhelds forever at the ready. At its best, the photo-sharing platform captures the transcendental moments of the human experience (the Perseid meteor shower; a sunset over the Manhattan skyline). At its worst, utterly delightful banality (your pancake breakfast).

Critics have condemned "the Instagram effect" as a detriment to the immense care and skill that photography demands. Some argue its easy cropping and preset filters offer an oversimplified view of the craft. But Instagram is continuing to expand, and the pros have adapted to the platform with haste and grace.

"Photojournalism has become a hybrid enterprise of amateurs and professionals, along with surveillance cameras, Google Street Views and other sources," photojournalist Fred Ritchin told Mother Jones earlier this year. "What is underrepresented are those 'metaphotographers' who can make sense of the billions of images being made, and can provide context and authenticate them."

The 14 journalists on our list are using Instagram to take photos with as much sensitivity to context, composition and texture as they would behind a traditional lens. The result is a colorful glimpse into foreign cultures and crystallized moments of pain and joy.

David Guttenfelder, an Associated Press photographer and seven-time World Press Photo award winner, was just named TIME's Instagram photographer of the year. In 2013, on assignment for the AP, Guttenfelder traveled to North Korea, where his Instagram photography offered a rare glimpse into the inner life of a nation normally obscured from public view. He has also photographed the aftermath of Typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines as well as quaint pastoral scenes from rural America.

In this photograph, Guttenfelder captures a group of North Korean seamstresses at the Sonbong Textile Factory inside the Rason Special Economic Zone. "Nobody knows anything about [North Korea] and what it looks like," Guttenfelder told TIME of his tenure. "I feel like there's a big opportunity and a big responsibility."

IMAGE: @DGUTTENFELDER ON INSTAGRAM

Ed Kashi is a photojournalist, filmmaker and lecturer who has recently been embedded in the Middle East while documenting the ongoing conflict in Syria. His Instagram portraits capture the daily life of Syrian refugees, with a particular focus on the children who have been displaced by the conflict. Another set of recent photographs, taken in New Jersey, offer a "then and now" look at the damage caused by Hurricane Sandy and the state's recovery.

In this photograph, Syrian children play at the Domiz refugee camp in Northern Iraq.

IMAGE: @EDKASHI ON INSTAGRAM

So, yes, positivity can reign and draw our eye to parts of the world and goings on we could never imagine, but the thing is, unless you physically stumble across these gems, or they are recommended or read about, then what hope have you of finding them in a vast galaxy of so-so-ness?
A crap filter would be a great thing, but it doesn't exist.
The ephemeral nature of digital capture (40 billion thumb swipes a day) means that you might really want to change things with your photos of the truth, but in reality there's not a whole lot you can do unless you are really really lucky. It's Warzones vs. Botox; Injustice vs. Narcissm, Truth vs. Altered Reality.
Do you really stand a chance?

Anyway, I'll leave my final bit in the hands of the American photographer Lewis Wickes Hine, a man, who, though his photographs, did change the world.
And the photos still exist over 100 years later.

"When he became photographer to the National Child Labour Committee in 1908, he set out to capture scenes in factories, mills and workshops that would later be used as evidence to clamp down on child exploitation. He was so hated by the factory and mill owners employing children that he would often have to go about his work in disguise, for fear of his own safety. He was threatened on numerous occasions.


As a result of his photographs, child labour laws in the United States were revolutionised."

Artificial flowers, New York, 1912.

Pennsylvania coal breakers, [Breaker Boys], 1912.

The full article can be read here

I don't know about you - I haven't written this to be provocative, just to make you think a bit about your image making and why, really, you should still be (or even starting to) using film and printing it.
OK - I know it can be a faff, I know it is expensive and I also know that for a large number of people it isn't possible.
But just something physical then . .
How about that?
It isn't hard . . print some of those billions of digital photos you have, get your phone down to a supermarket booth and print those selfies, just do something that means it is out there.
It's a little bit of you for the future, even if it does only end up as a scrap of soggy photo paper adhering to the edge of a skip! 
Just fecking do it.

I suppose, that, the Fuck, is THE POINT.

There. Over and out . . .
Phew . . . How do you feel now?
You can comment at the bottom you know.

TTFN, and remember, Nuts, Whole Hazelnuts. URGH! Cadburys Take Them And They Cover Them With Chocolate.

Art, Pain And The Eternal Struggle

Morning folks . . in fact, to coin a phrase from a friend of my Dad's, who was Welsh and not Irish 'Top o' the mornin' to you! Don't you just love it when the dawn beats you to rising . . my favourite time of year.
Anyway, enough of that, because we are about to talk about graft.
Hard Graft.
Damn Hard.
In fact, if you don't feel up to a bit of a solid workout, then you might as well give up now, because, and I'll say this only once:
"The Darkroom Boot Camp Makes Men."
There.
Now any of you solid young fellows that don't feel much like working, well, you can leave now, and take your dollies with you, because what we are talking about today is Man-Stuff.
It soon sorts out the wheat from the chaff, and if you don't feel up to it, you jolly well know what you can do.

It is really rather easy to see why hardly anyone bothers to print with traditional darkroom materials these days.
To put it bluntly, making a 'proper' monochrome print (on silver gelatin paper, using an enlarger and a negative) is fucking hard.
There, I've said it.
I can't say I have ever seen it put like that before (not even in the original proof version of Mr. Ansel Adams' Meisterwerk 'The Print').
But it is true.
And how can I say it?
Well, I have spent a large period of my adult life spare time toiling away in darkrooms - approximately 30 years actually, and whilst I consider myself a good and able printer, I am not sure whether I have ever even crossed that borderline into the legendary realms of the 'fine' printer.

Others might disagree with me, however (and this is where the tao of self-belief comes in) they're wrong. You see, my problem is that I tend towards self-criticism and a lack of self-confidence in all of my creative endeavours, and this leads to the rather unhealthy situation of being too critical of my prints.
I can print. Sure I can print well.
But I am not 'fine' .
See what I mean? That damn lack of confidence. Hoist 'pon my own petard as it were.
If I were different I'd be saying:

"Yeah, 30 years Analog (how I bloody hate that word) - man I can print up a storm. 

Split Grade? Yehay, piece of easy shit. 

Toning . . send on the selenium. 

Archival processing? Man, my shit will last longer than that radiation leak from Fukashima 

l'm ALL ANALOG man."

Or words to that effect.
But the proof of the pudding and all that - the object, is sitting there in your hand staring you in the face and it's either the cat's pyjamas or a total mutt, because you see, there's no glossing over things with printing.
You are holding the truth in your hand, and it is either being held with an archival cotton museum glove or feverishly clutched in your nicotine-stained hand whilst you shake your other fist at the sky. There's no escaping the truth.


I spent a reasonable amount of time this morning scanning through tons of old prints for the first time in months and months, and maybe the break has done me good, because I was clearly able to see the rejects and the also-rans, the winners and the sure-fire pleasurable prints. 

You'll find some scans at the end of this blog and see if you agree.

The thing is though (that apart from the total hounds) at the end of each respective printing sessions I loved most of the prints I had made, because that is the nature of printing.

It can be a pleasurable activity. 

You are crafting something of the three-dimensional world into the critical and narrow realism of the two-dimensional print

And sometimes, just sometimes, that 3-D world is transformed into a 2-D image of such passion and beauty it takes your breath away.

But a lot of the time it isn't.
You can't escape the truth.

It is though, an object; and an object you've made.
It may not change lives in the way say a viewing of Edward Weston's contact prints does. But it is you.

And if you've made the negatives and processed them yourself as well, it is all you, and stands or falls on your skills and vision.

It is (or can be) the culmination of a very complex process, a juxtapositioning of skill, eye, taste, ability, luck and craft.

And it is fucking hard.   

There's that 'f' word again.

I'm not labouring the point either, because darkroom work is mostly a solo activity.

Nobody else is around to see the eye-strain, the smells of spilt chemicals, the blue air, the messed-up borders, scratched negatives, dust, fevered dodging and burning, test-stripping, counting, airless-sweating, more dust and bad skin/chemical reactions, until you emerge from your not-so-secret bunker clutching a couple of pieces of paper, blinking in the cold daylight and shouting "AT LAST!".

Oh no - if you're lucky someone will say, "Hey, they're nice."
And that's it.
And as if this slaving away in the red room wasn't enough, then there's the masochism of  penury:
Penury?
Yeah, you know, that noun that equates to "the state of being very poor; extreme poverty".
Viz: "he couldn't face another year of penury"

Some synonyms are:
extreme/dire poverty
pennilessness
impecuniousness

impoverishment
indigence
need
neediness
want
destitution
privation

See what I mean - appropriate don't you think, because photography in general, has never been a poor man's hobby.
And in fact I can think of no other hobby (apart from say diamond collecting) that requires such an ungodly amount of cash to keep it going.

Again, no wonder hardly anyone prints any more . .
Why's that Sheephouse? I hear you cry

Well, to put it bluntly, it is fucking expensive.
You know, you can spend the best part of £80-£90 on a box of 100 sheets of 10x8" fibre paper.
Add in say another £20 odd on enough chemicals to get 50 or so archivally processed prints out.
And subtract from that 50 prints (of which maybe 5 to 10 are acceptable if you are being honest and of those, maybe 3 or 4 are truly things you love) the rest of that paper (approximately £40-odds worth in today's prices) which gets put away in old paper boxes, never to be looked at again!
So looking at that box of 100 sheets, you've maybe got 8 in total that you love; maybe 20 that are acceptable, and 72 that don't cut the mustard.

You see what I mean, printing is not just hard, but economically it's fucking hard.

I'll stop using the 'f‘ word to put my point across now - apparently it tells you (the reader) that I am substantially lacking in vocabulary . . make of that what you will . . .

So why, when this is an obvious case of pouring money down the drain do the few hardy souls left doing it, actually do it?

Masochism?

Blind Faith?

Insanity?
Well blind faith is close to it actually, and the pleasure of making art - you might only be scratching your shitty stick against a corner of a cave in the furthest reaches of the Lascaux cave system, but at least it is your bit of cave . .  the compulsion to make beautiful things is as old as mankind.
The compulsion to make something that might just last longer than you, is even older.
In one of my favourite films (Moonstruck), a man asks a woman why men have affairs, to which she answers "Because they are afraid of death".
Whilst printing isn't quite like that, it is in a way.
Aside from the conscious deliberation to make something that is pleasing to the eye, I feel the underlying urge is to make something that will be your little piece of eternity. Something to which massed hordes might flock and worship, in much the same way that true vintage prints by the greats of traditional photography provide the same attraction. You stand and marvel at someone's vision and soul scooped from light and form and writ large with passion on a flat piece of sensitized paper.
It is magical.
Almost as magical as those hand prints in Lascaux, though maybe not as archival.


I had the good fortune to view the touring Ansel Adams exhibition in Edinburgh a few years back - it was really extraordinary. Not just for the images, but for the quality of the printing, which was absolutely superb. The images breathed an air of unqualified precision of concept and untouchable artisanal skills - they were really special, and whether their totem-like qualities were helped along by the subdued lighting and the fact they were under glass and proper artistic OBJECTS I knoweth not . . all I do know is that they made such a deep impression on my wife and I that we went back to see them again. They were in their own way a photographic Lourdes . . where the outcome could be life-changing.
I left determined to be a better printer . . but haven't succeeded.
But back to that compulsion


I also like to think of printing as being rather like climbing a hill.
You are always trying to reach that distant pinnacle.
You might well reach one impressive top or plateau, but you can always see more tempting ones to head off towards, and each one of those is your image's potential,

But look!
There!
There, miles away!!
The most beautiful one!!!
Well that my friend, that could well be the best print you've ever made in your life . . .
But can you reach it?

It is going to be a hard slog, and incredibly daunting, and you might well fail.

Surely it would be easier to sit down here and take it all in
After all, you can admire those peaks from a distance. There's really no need to trouble yourself, because it probably isn't worth the effort to make it to those lofty snow-covered crags.
And besides, isn't it supposed to be fucking hard?

Well yes, it is, and a number of you will fall along the way and be content to rest your weary bones, after all, this craft stuff takes stamina, steely determination and downright grit.
But then this is your craftsmanship we're talking about. Are you just going to sit there and be content to munch your sandwiches and slurp your coffee on the great tartan blanket of also-ran printing, or are you going to pack it all away, hoist your backpack and get moving before the light goes . . remember, this is one life . . there's only so much light left to determine how immortal you'll be.
You have to keep moving, keep walking, keep taking in the sights and sounds and keep enjoying the journey, because despite the effort involved, remember it is (or can be) a pleasurable activity . .
So my friends, I'll remove my soapbox now and say:
Practice, practice and practice . .
Printing is like learning a musical instrument — you'll never improve if you don't practice.

And you never know, if you keep heading on to those distant peaks, maybe Ansel, or Edward or Wynn will be up there ahead of you on the trail, holding themselves back, just waiting for you with a nice refreshing draught of inspiration.

The snarlin' hounds:

It's a print Jim, but not as we know it. Totally lacking in any impact whatsoever.

Ghastly. Bad Grade Choice and the spectre of the film masking blade on the enlarger causing underexposure on the left of the print.

The photograph has real atmosphere, but the print is as flat as anything.

Even when you think you have a good print, things conspire against you. The black top right edge is a manufacturing fault!

The Cat's Pyjamas:

This is a little series called 'City Of Discovery' all made in Dundee. They're 35mm negatives made with my old Nikon F2 and the 35mm f2 pre-Ai Nikkor.
The pale edges you see next to the blackness of the rebate are adjacency effects from film development.
Paper size is 10x8" and they're nice as physical objects.

This is called 'The Pilgrim's Way' and it was taken on St Cuthbert's footpath, which follows the route of Dere Street in the Scottish Borders. I was so taken by the quality of light and the ethereal feeling I had whilst walking this ancient track that I had to make a photograph. It's probably boring to you, but to me it has feeling. The camera was my Rolleflex T with the 6.45cm mask inserted. The quality of the negative is very fine.

I adore this photograph and print.
The photograph was made on my Rollei T using Trix-X on an incredibly bright day. What you are seeing is shadow and reflection and the dehydrated remnants of water on a window in one of the hot-houses at St Andrews Botanical Garden . . one of the finest little botanical gardens in Scotland - visit it and buy some plants.
Paper was 10x8" Ilford Galerie and I would happily display this print anywhere and not look sheep(house)ish.

Believe it or not these two images were made on the same film and on the same day - they flowed together and all was right with the world.

However, even in my hour of triumph you'll maybe notice in the first print that spectre of the masking blade encroaching on the right side of the image. Still, it'll do for the moment . . should anyone ask me to exhibit these I would of course reprint.

Both are printed on untoned 8x10" Ilford Galerie.

Archival Storage. Silverprint Archival box and crystal clear polyester sleeves.

Donkey derby stables - that's about 500 sheets of fibre 8x10.

The print as a real object

Two more.

This one didn't scan well, so this is all you get.