Ruuuufff - The Dog's Dinner Session

Firstly, can I say that if you've received this on your phone, please scroll down to the "Posted by . . " link at the bottom - and tap that - opens it up in full Technicolor.

Morning folks - a curious title I know, but in a month where I've been busier than I could imagine I should have been (if that makes sense) and an impending showing at the DCA forum at the end of last month . . . something had to give . . so it was a mighty trawl through some old negatives and a bunch of them printed on 6x4" Portfolio at an image size of 7x7cm.

Now it really does seem perverse to be taking a sublime image-making machine like a Hasselblad or a TLR Mamiya and printing something that is only a little bigger than a contact print . . . but hey-ho, it was an experiment, didn't cost too much in materials and was fun (and more importantly QUICK) to do.

Printing small has a lot of advantages, both in time, chemicals and (in my case) ease of moving the print about in the darkroom - as regulars might remember, my darkroom space . . well, you couldn't actually swing a cat in it, but I can print up to 9.5x12" without too much trouble. 

Anything bigger is almost impossible, so small prints get the job done comfortably.

Anyway, these 'ere Medium Format Postcards (MFPs as they're known around here) - the first thing that needed to be addressed was column height! 

Using a standard (for 6x6cm) 80mm lens was going to do two things - firstly give me a crick in the neck and secondly, not allow enough space to get a focus magnifier onto the easel.

The Micromega just fitted . . Paterson Minor . . nope.

Actually printing so small also reached the bellows extension limit of the DeVere too. 

Who'd have thought it! 

So, I switched up to the 135mm Vivitar VHE (100mm was too low still and 150mm gave me enormous amounts of extra light flying around on the easel, so 135mm it was.)

The easel by the way is my original (and first iteration) of a RR Beard 10x12". 

It was well used when I got it and it's been even more weller used by me - they're amazingly robust things and you can straighten the blades with not too much trouble if they've got off-kilter, which is admittedly rare.

It might not surprise you to learn I've actually got far too many easels:

Oh really? Now that is a surprise!

Namely FOUR (yes, I surprised myself there too) Beards; a Leitz; a Durst; an LPL  . . . and that one I wrote about last year, the Agimask. 

That's a bit mad really, but I suppose you never know when you might drop and misalign one of them, do you?

Of them all, the bests (by a country mile) are the Beards. 

I actually could do with a newer 10x12 Beard as my others are 16x12's and seeing as I can only manage up to 9.5 x 12" then they do seem to be a little overkill, however needs must, two were purchased and two were gifts from old darkroom codgers.

 

The humble easel is actually (IMHO) one of the most important parts of the enlarging process (along with a properly aligned enlarger). 

At college cos the easels that were available were all misaligned and so on, I actually used to use masking tape to hold the paper down.

It was actually pretty OK at doing that - the medium weight Kentmere was straight with little curl and the tape enabled me to maximise the size of the paper.

When they were dried, the good ones were dry-mounted and trimmed. 

Dry mounting gave a lot of gravitas to an image, even though these days it is regarded as archivally unsound.

I've heard good things about using t-shirt presses for straightening fibre prints and I am probably going to go down that route.

Anyway, back to Beard-stroking - when I set up my own darkroom, I thought back, realised that masking tape wasn't such a good thing and that heartbreak and wasted paper would ensue.

Scenario: your best bit of printing ever scuppered, mid-exposure, when the masking tape frees itself from the baseboard and the paper inevitably curls upwards . . . ah the blue air!

So I knuckled down and bought a Beard.

I soon realised what I had been missing.

Anyway, enuff of that old nonsense . . here's wot said pics look like. 

Did your Aunty Maeve and Uncle Tony send you a postcard back from Torremolinos? 

Well they're the same size as that - 6x4" or 10x15cm if you're a post-'65/73 sort of person.

Yes, I entirely agree with you - there's a lot of wasted paper . . and it ain't half expensive . . 

However, as a wee object you can take into the playground and use for swapsies at playtime, they work quite well.

Look at the curl though . . . and that's them flattened under three tons of angle-iron for two weeks.

Ah, the golden days when you could get around the backside of Duncan Of Jordanstone College Of Art and see what the crazee kidz had been up to . . . 

Nothing more than a demonic face on a wall and a bed/bath . .  of course.

This area has now sadly been fenced off . . btards.

An incredibly bright day and I

 was perched over my camera in the middle of a slow-running burn catching the reflected light on the overhanging rock. 

There was something about it that was incredibly appealing, but I think I failed to catch the delicacy.

My friend Neil did it so much better than me.

Edge of the dole office in Dundee's Wellgate . . . one of the most salubrious buildings in a run-down city centre that could be considered to be very salubrious these days. 

It's a real shame. 

I remember the place as lively, filled with shops and happy shoppers and a lot less graffiti.

This self-same window has now been turned into a free-floating It's The Arts window, showcasing local designers . . and quite right too.

I can see two or three faces in that window . . can you?

A famous staircase.

I have to state fairly categorically that I think I might have been the original person to photograph it in an architectural style.

Now every bleeder on the numerous city photowalks do/does . . .

Och well, so long as they don't copy my DANCE COMMANDER outfit, I am alright . . . (look that up on You Tube - it's a cracking song by The Electric Six.)

One of the Perth Road lanes - the house has always struck me as looking haunted.

In truth it's a student warren, so it's probably haunted by the ghosts of hangovers and kebabs.

It's a pretty mucky lane too, so watch out for that dog shite . . .

Wait a minute . . . are you sure you get dogs that big?

I couldn't believe my luck - there I was with (I think) the 500 C/M and 250mm Sonnar and no tripod, and I managed to capture a Wild F.

It was obviously just resting before heading North to it's natural nesting grounds in the Grampians.

You'll often hear one in the quiet of the glens:

 

"Who put that f-ing boulder there?"

"Ah, f!, I forgot my toilet paper!"

You get the gist.

I was once up a cold and lonely mountain in a heavy mist - it was wonderful and quiet, and the next thing I heard was what sounded like a billion teenage boys have a jostley fight.

In reality it was two middle-aged men with MLT (Mid-Life Tourettes) - their language was completely unbound to say the least.

Anyway, I hope the Wild F found its nest and a mate.

Quick, someone give Hamza a c

all!

Ah, dontcha just love a good bit of plastic adorning a lovely Cherry tree in Winter?

Although I've said Cherry tree, I am not so sure in hindsight. 

It IS a tree.

What I do know is that said tree has grown wild in an area of Dundee's Docks.

Not the proper docks, cos you can't get into them anymore (just in case you get up to some monkey business) no, it's a bit beyond them by The Grassy Beach.

That is local terminology . . and very old - kids from the deprived inner city areas used to go there for their holidays . . it's only a couple of miles away from the centre too!

The area actually is right next to the point of land where the young Mary Shelley used to watch the port (and indeed whaling fleet) of the city at the time and slowly started formulating ideas about the Modern Prometheus . . look it up - it is well documented.

Sadly Pedro Almodóvar was not seen enjoying an amazing curry at The Tay View . . . 

I think most Ferryites (people from Broughty Ferry) disown this bit of coast as it's too common.

Anyway, sidetracked again - it's a weird area - there's loads of scrub, trees, brambles, grass and underneath it all, showing through quite clearly in places, the remains of an old tarmacked carpark, still resplendent with lines and spaces.

The tree is a decent size so has presumably been growing wild for at least 25/30 years. 

Woohoo - go TREES!

I think the picture is very Zen and somehow the plastic reminds me of the gauze adhering to Mick's face on the cover of The Rolling Stones' 'Under The Covers' album.

Sadly, this isn't gauze, but solid sheet plastic and kind of indicative of the shithole we're making of our wonderful planet.

And that as they say is that. 

All prints were toned in Selenium too and on the whole I think it was a worthy exercise.

Whether I could continue producing at such a small size I am not sure - seems to be quite wasteful.

And I am even thinking now that given the massive extra cost of Portfolio over normal MGFB, I might just put up with some curly prints!

Till the next time . . watch out for the MLT

H xx

What Do We Do With All This Stuff?

 Across the evening sky

All the birds are leaving

But how can they know

It's time for them to go?

Before the winter fire

I will still be dreaming

I have no thought of time

For who knows where the time goes?

Who knows where the time goes?

Sad, deserted shore

Your fickle friends are leaving

Ah, but then you know

It's time for them to go

But I will still be here

I have no thought of leaving

I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes?

Who knows where the time goes?

And I am not alone

While my love is near me

I know it will be so

Until it's time to go

So come the storms of winter

And then the birds in spring again

I have no fear of time

For who knows how my love grows?

And who knows where the time goes?

Morning folks - hope you've got your black jumpsuit on, because today's post is concerned with death and what to do about all the detritus you will inevitably leave behind! 

Oh yes, it's a right old morbid smörgåsbord of early morning thinking, confusion, inevitability and good old:

"Feck Me . . I am how old??!! . .  but I was ONLY 17 a few years back . . . "

I find it weirdly satisfying in some way that Sandy Denny (writer and singer of the lyrics at the start) had a grandparent who was a Dundonian . . anyway, that's grist for another mill, though I have to say lyrically, with relations and friends embattled by the rigours of life, that song rings to me like a bell on a clear morning.

Taking A Trip In A Caravan
(The sort of image that will never survive. Never printed, just scanned.
Found in the nether-regions of my computer.)
Olympus Trip/Caravan/Autumn/Agfacolor.

So, my post today concerns photographs and how the hell do you handle them in the event of someone dropping off their perch.  

Unfortunately, having re-read it umpteen times, it is largely devoid of advice or ideas and is more a random collection of thoughts about clog poppin'.

"Say wha??"

Well, you can't avoid it, it is going to happen. 

You might hide in the corner clutching your head, but somewhere down the line the Grim Reaper is going to camp out in your garden and demand some sort of restitution. 

So what do you do?

That's a hard one, because actually I am not sure you can do anything, except prepare as much as you can and then that's it. 

The hardware is fine, there's no problems with that - in fact you could really deal with all that stuff in one word . . and no it's not necessarily Ebay, so, got your Ikea meatball meal deal ready?:

Döstädning!

Go on have a laugh at my expense why dontcha.

Ee's off 'is trolly!

The concept is a simple one - you divulge yourself of stuff that might be really useful to someone else down the line (in age). 

After all as you get older, stuff becomes a burden - this could be a solution and might make you feel good too. You don't really need 15 Paterson tanks and 8 Kodak Beehives (just in case) do you? That old Meopta enlarger you upgraded from in 1996 and that takes up about two large suitcases worth of space . . surely there's someone out there that could use it as a learning tool. Of course, I know you'll say, well they'll just sell it anyway, to which I would say, fine, let them try and pack it properly!

It's a thought.

I didn't come up with the concept, but I quite like it. In an ideal world, where people weren't trying to squeeze every last penny out of everything, then it could almost be considered utopian. 

But that's about getting rid of useful stuff - what about those archival boxes you have filled with your entire photographic output? 

I have a friend who has everything - from a first film made on a parent's camera, right the way through to now with 12 mega-terabyte drives (for storage and backup). 

But backup for what? 

Are his children going to keep all of those drives? 

And how do they share it around? 

What happens if they were to slim it down to say one and it fails?

And what about the physical stuff   - a lifetime of negatives and prints? Are they really going to look through every single photo their father has taken? 

It is a massive burden acquiring stuff, but it is an even more massiver burden acquiring custody of someone else's stuff. 

So what do you do?

Pretty much without exception, most families are exactly the same - we've got PHYSICAL photographs (yes I know there are exceptions based upon monetary and sociological factors - please bear in mind I am generalising based upon my own experience.) 

And it's not just a handful of photographs, no, that would be too easy; it is TONS of them and not only that, but tons of them picturing the most ephemeral and trite things as well. 

Boxes (or if you were sensible paper envelopes) filled to the brim with multiple out of focus snaps of birthdays and scenic snaps and a delphinium that your Gran had - the list is as endless as it is incomprehensible why someone took a picture of a squashed cup-cake anyway.

 

Added to this, I don't think anyone anywhere has gone:

 

I know we should really curate these because somewhere down the line someone is going to have to go through this.

Though actually that's not quite true - my wife and I kind of did back in the day - the best were stuck in albums, and the remainders and corresponding negatives shoved back into their envelopes and put away somewhere. 

But the thing is, they have never gone anywhere and ultimately, they remain as a MASSIVE headache for our progeny, or the next door neighbours when they're wondering what the smell is. 

Our (carefully curated remember) albums now occupy a whole large shelf, that will either have to be taken on board, or . . . 

 

My own personal photographic output occupies six CXD archival boxes . . . and that is just the negatives! 

When you factor in the print boxes/old paper boxes stuffed with prints, I start to wonder, is my family really going to want to go through all this when they possibly have a whole house to clear? 

Or is it more likely the case that they're going to cherry pick.

And the rest? . . . well who knows . . .

When I put it like that it is kind of depressing isn't it? 

You start to think, actually is there any point in this?

When my Mother died, my sister and her kids cleared the house. 

Living 400-odd miles away and working full time I was unable to help, so consequently, anything from my early life that my Mother still had (it wasn't much, but it was something) got chucked or given away.

There was nothing particularly valuable, it was just sentimental junk. 

But that's not the point.

Some things you have with you for years; for instance my copy of Lord Of The Rings was given to me at Christmas, in 1974, and I have read it around 28 times. 

It has fallen apart, but now has an ignominious chunk of Japanese framing tape obscuring the lovely spine . . . yet I refuse to give it up in favour of the other very nice editions we have in the house, simply because it is mine and stained with my patina; and, to an extent it is imbued with me.

You could probably call it sentimental junk, but strangely sentimental junk counts for a great deal in the human condition.

But the question is: WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO IT?

In an ideal world, we'd reach the end of our lives in some sort of psuedo-hippy white room, with little or no possessions (the key thinking being that they are things that tie your soul to the earth) before we are whisked off on The Cosmik VW Space-Combi to Nirvana. 

I sort of get that, so chuck the hotdogs on the Bar-B now. 

But although we're the stuff of stars, we're also made from the heavy layers of earth and rock and water beneath us; we're as tied to the planet as one could possibly be. 

Sure, all thoughts of the soul lifting free and soaring off to some cosmic plane . . well, who knows? 

Yet as humans here we are, farting, eating, breeding, contemplating . . and, for want of a better phrase, gaining earthly chains.

Jings, you don't half acquire them don't you?! 

In the past few years I've encountered people's hoards, the likes of which the ancients would have considered treasure troves . . but in our modern world of plenty, it is just STUFF.

And it is the autopsical handling of stuff that is the most difficult. 

I was recently talking to a neighbour and she said something along the lines of:

"Why worry about it? It won't be your problem. Enjoy it now and let it become someone else's problem."

I can get that.

But I can also get that someone, somewhere will have to deal with it.

It's no surprise that house clearances are so popular - the lure of a Leica IIIg in a box of old towels; a Maserati quietly rusting in a garage . . .

When the time comes and someone has to clean up the remnants of your life, their temptation will be to quickly scout through everything looking for valuables, and the rest . . well the rest will probably just get chucked.

And sadly, for us as photographers, that probably means all our efforts in the form of negatives and prints and hard drives. 

Don't worry about the tools . . someone will want the tools; but the form, the architecture of creation; your creative urges writ large . . well, sadly, unless you were well known, then I doubt anyone will give a shit.

So what does one do with thousands of negatives; hundreds of prints; 12 terabytes of digitalness?

I actually don't know.

Are they of any worth? 

Only to you my friend, only to you.

Even the great auction houses in the home of serious photography (America) won't take negatives. 

They only want vintage prints, and even then I doubt they want the work prints, oh no. 

The scrap copy of Moonrise over Hernandez with the giant coffee stain on it . . probably in a pile somewhere . . but a signed edition? well that is a different story. 

And a different story in that we're talking about one of the masters. 

Old Joe Soap from Wigan or Ohio, or Sienna or Dubrovnik, or Cobh or  Beattock . . well fuggedaboutit.

This was hammered home to me recently due to a family thing, whereby I had cause to riffle through a part of my family hoard of snaps that weren't in my house.

There were hundreds of prints all loosely gathered in plastic bags and boxes, flying free from their old printers' envelopes and not a negative in sight. 

The shoe boxes I had organised them into some 30 years back with the help of my Mum's memory were nowhere to be seen.

And this was kind of important, because after all, snaps going back 40+ years. . . who remembers who these people were? 

That person with the standard lamp shade on their head? 

The dog in the cardigan? 

A small girl playing at a kitten's tea party in a sunny room somewhere.

The boy/man floating dead in a canal?

Who are they and why are there photographs of them?

Our stabs at immortality in the form of documenting the fleetingness of life through photography (sic) are worth nothing if nobody knows who/what/where/when/you/we/they/are/were and why.

When I put it like that, I kind of wonder is there actually any point in a photograph?

When all you have left is a random image of 'somewhere' or 'someone' and nobody knows where it was or who it was, or even what they were doing . . why document it in the first place?

I need to go and have a big think now, because in the typing of all this, I have asked myself a series of questions I am not comfortable with.

Several weeks and gallons of tea later . . . 

Approximately 1949.

This recent find hasn't scanned well because of the glazing of the photograph.

The print is a contact print.

Approximately Mid-1940's
Another extraordinary find.
I think the lighting is terrific.

So I guess the point of a photograph, is to bring into existence a moment of time that is relevant to you, the photographer (and anyone with you involved in said moment of time).

And that is it (well actually that is partly it.) 

When you depart this plane, that moment of time kind of ceases to have any relevance, because everything that was ever behind it is gone. 

If you are survived by others in the photograph, then the relevance is still there until they too face the inevitable and shuffle off into The Cosmic Corner. 

At that point the photograph carries on existing, but only as evidence of a slice of time with a little relevance. 

Like the above two gems (unseen by me until a month ago) it becomes a 'historical' artefact. 

However when you look at photos like that, you can see that the life of a photograph isn't quite as dead-end as it might at first appear to be.

But I think that all depends on the subject matter - apart from family photos, this 'historical' relevance might become more important if the photograph is what is now colloquially known as 'street' (or indeed any documentation of the fleetingness of 'modernity'.) 

A friend from the Forum (Hi Neil!) has a wonderful collection of snaps from around Dundee in the late 1970's early '80's and they are true historical documents of a City undergoing change and that has largely vanished.

In cases such as that, I think the photograph can live on.

But can it live on when it is (as a huge amount of hobbyist photography appears to be these days) ANOTHER picture of some flowers with massive amounts of bokeh, or ANOTHER woodland, or ANOTHER abandoned building, SOMEWHERE?

I have to say (and I mean no disrespect) that the ease of digital photography in being able to produce, say, fifteen images when just ONE would have sufficed, has resulted in an explosion of truly terrible photography. 

Yeah I know, you're saying:

"My Dad used to take loads of horrific pictures of us with his Instamatic" 

however in my opinion, it is just too damn easy to make something look 'acceptable' and there is now so much of it (please, check Flickr [look for your favourite lens f'rintance] . . some very good stuff on there, but also a hell of a lot of bilge) that often it is impossible to lift one image out of the morass, because that morass is now so huge, and, dare I say it, so professional looking!

It is almost like trying to fish a floating sweety wrapper that you lost out of the Pacific Gyre.

And, it is all Petabytes of data, just lying around on servers, doing little, and rarely looked at.

My friend can take 300 images in a couple of hours - I doubt (as a film photographer) that I take 300 images in 6 months.

It is stuff, stuff and even more stuff, with little thought to the future, or indeed the environmental impact of such energy usage concerned with storing stuff that nobody will look at!

But back to the meat and potatoes . . can a photograph truly survive in a post-maker environment?

As regular readers will know I love good landscape photography, so here's some thinking about that.

I might say that some of the skill of the truly great landscape photographers is such that their eye and personal deep feeling for landscape somehow imbues the image with something other than it just being a picture of a scene. 

(Please note this is entirely different for what passes for most landscape photography today.)

I'd like to call it (loosely) ATMOSPHERE. (Friend Bruce might call it UB [Unsubstantiated Bollocks].)

It can exist in a photograph. 

That's not bullshit, I tend to regard that as fact.

And somehow that twilight dust present at the taking of the photograph, sifts its way down through the years after the image was recorded; the photographer's feelings and emotional interaction with the landscape and what they did with the resulting cosmic mess (that is a negative) carries on in a physical form (the print).

So much so that maybe someone, somewhere down the line will look at that print and say:

"Oh!"

and that image will transcend time and come to mean something to another viewer in another place. 

That is the happy outcome. 

In decades to come, Michael Kenna's or Paul Caponigro's prints, won't just be consigned to the skip of eternity - no way hosepipe.

And what about the records of moments in time? 

Well they already have cojones in spades, simply by dint of the fact that they are a recording of a (perhaps important) thing that sprang into being and ended, but someone was there to capture it.

You'll know them by their triumphs and tragedies, yet they live on.

Donald McCullin's photographs will survive any bombardment.

And it's funny, I can still look at a photograph by Clarence H. White and be moved to tears. I've no idea why. Spirituality was important to him, and each photograph, though seemingly 'dull' on the surface carries with it a weight of soul. 

His soul. 

These are images made over 100 years ago, yet they can still speak. It's weird isn't it?

So I suppose what I am trying to say, is that there is a point to a photograph (phew.)

The above pictures of my parents as young(er) people helped me visualise (along with copious letters) their world. In truth these paper-thin slices of silver gelatin and time moved me to tears.

Somehow they've survived for nearly 80 years without any great care.

To me they have a point.

But is there any point to the mountains of snaps and the general day-to-day picture taking that we (well I can only really talk about me) generally do? 

I will often go out and waste and hour or two with my camera taking pictures of the same things I have taken pictures of before. 

I do it, because I enjoy the process AND because sometimes I'll develop a film and go "Aha!"

And whilst the Ahas won't win me any awards, they're a reflection of my creativity and creative urges.

But they don't half add up to a pile of pointless stuff that someone else will have to deal with.

My friend Bruce says he'd rather just have a greatest hits left rather than a whole archive.

Books is his big answer, but he has still to make one (not chiding Bruce, btw . . . ) 

For years I have railed against this, but in reality, his approach is probably pretty sane. 

It's something the kids can look at and admire, rather than having to trawl through 20,000+ negatives and go:

"Jeez Dad didn't half take some crappy pictures! What the Feck are we going to do with all this?"

Ah you see, because behind all our endeavours is also the fact that leaving a mountain of stuff behind also means we're loading guilt and angst onto our descendants, who have to decide what to do with it:

"Have you got room for all this?" 

"Nope, me neither . . . "

In all my years of writing this blog, I think these are the hardest questions I have ever posed:

WHAT DO WE DO WITH ALL THIS STUFF? 

HOW IS IT POSSIBLE TO WINNOW A LIFETIME OF IMAGE MAKING? 

SHOULD WE EVEN CARE AND JUST LEAVE IT TO CHANCE? 

I really don't know, but I'd love to know your thoughts, because really I think I have only just scratched the surface.

Anyway, the question is out there now. 

No doubt (as I've found with some of my articles) some enterprising bod will nick the idea to get some clicks and it will become more of a general question.

And I hope that when you come in to have your card marked, you have some damn good ideas, because frankly I haven't got a clue.

So, answers on a postcard please to:

H. Sheephouse

Sheephouse Towers

Fleeceville

Sheepcestershire

BB1 BB2

If I get a decent response, I'll publish them as a separate post, say in a few weeks time . . . .

Comments can be read on this 'ere link 'ere.

As always thanks for reading.

H xx

A Nice Refreshing Breeze

Morning folks - I hope you are all feeling tip-top and chipper, rather than feeling you've done 15 rounds with 18 white pudding suppers from The Chipper (you'll only get that if you're East Coast Scottish).

Hmmm - what's that lovely smell? 

It certainly isn't the wonderful aroma of diluted acetic acid liberally sloshed all over freshly-fried potatoes along with enough salt to construct a model of a Leica M2 . . nor is it that heady mixture of deep fried batter, fish and cigarette smoke drifting down the prevailing breeze on the Blackie! 

(Again, you'll only get that if you've ever been to the nether-regions of Dundee).

No!

It's the smell of change. 

God. 

AT LAST!

Ghost Of A Jute Mill

We were recently on a short but lovely family holiday to York. 

It was great, but seeing as we've done the place to death, this time, we explored more of the older pubs, of which there are quite a few. I am now actually of a mind to think, you can really get the measure of a place from its older pubs. 

We did the same in Brussels last year and it was eye-opening. 

However the smell of change wasn't just that wonderful afternoon feeling of a couple of pints and some really good chat. No. 

It was the curious metallically-musty smell of a newly opened camera back!

Yep - film cameras. 

I saw THREE. 

This is a new record for a trip away (I have recorded the film cameras I've seen on holiday religiously for years) so I can only assume that there's a fresh breeze whistling up the kilts of enthused amateurs like myself. 

How is it in your part of the world?

A couple of months back, I accosted a chap on Dundee's High Street, because he was carrying a Leica M6. 

I know, the sheer affrontary, but I couldn't just let him walk on by. 

I had my Rollei with me, so it was very much a case of 'show me yours and I'll show you mine'. 

He also said:

 

"You're not that bloke from here that writes that blog are you?" 

Outed. 

I couldn't believe it. 

And if you are reading this, hail and well-met squire!

Then in York, THREE film cameras:

A Praktika; a small rangefinder and an ME Super (so surprised was I by seeing that, that I actually walked up to the young woman and admired it - she said she loved it and it had been her fathers).

Include me with an M2/35mm Summaron and that's a few cameras.

And then, last week, I was out with the Mamiya C330, wasting a roll of Tri-X with a view to pushing it to 800 and developing it in Rodinal (sic) at 1+100. 

The pics were crap but the experiment worked. 

And there I was, standing in Blackscroft, wondering what to point my lens at, when a young woman shouted across the road at me: 

"MEDIUM FORMAT!" 

I was so shocked my false teeth nearly shot out. 

I said "Pardon?" and again she said "Medium Format" to which I said "Yes!" 

I crossed the road and asked her if she was a film user and indeed she was, a Pentax K1000 and she "loved it"! 

As we parted I shouted:

 

"Never stop using film."

 

and she said:

"I won't, I love it!"

I was chuffed as a chuffing chuffer in a chuffed-up competition. This is fantastic. 

Tri-X Ei 800, 1+100 Rodinal and Red Filter.
Mamiya C330 + 80mm f2.8

Tri-X Ei 800, 1+100 Rodinal and Red Filter.
Mamiya C330 + 80mm f2.8

I am pleased though, I'll tell you that. 

Myself and all the wee bloggers like myself who have been banging on about film for years . . maybe we've just been preaching to the wrong sorts, because in that time there's been a groundswell, albeit small, in people finding that actually film is fun, satisfying and educational in a skill-set sort of way.

Gosh - I hope we get badges or something.

There's an amendum to this - I've said before that I frequent Dundee's DCA Photography Forum - it's always been great, though I am one of the very few film users and pretty much the only darkroom user. Well, last time, there was a chap there who said he's just recently made his first darkroom prints and couldn't wait to get back in and make some more (he uses the DCA's own hireable darkroom). 

Oh boy, I was in heaven. 

Someone I can talk to about printing. 

And maybe that's where this wee upswell could continue growing. 

Home darkrooms. 

Or public ones, but home ones are good - there's no time pressures.

You know in recent times I've seen not-that-old Meopta Medium Format enlargers selling for well under £100. 

Now probably people in the market for an enlarger are thinking:

 

'Oh no, I NEED a DeVere, or a Kaiser or something with a Heiland head or stuff like that.'

 

To which I will say to you - YOU EMPHATICALLY DO NOT! 

Meoptas' (or older Dursts or LPLs, or even a good condition Leitz) are actually excellent little enlargers - very well made and solid with everything you need and nothing you don't. 

They're simple. 

Like printing. 

It is a really easy process and does not need super-computers or professional analysers to deal with exposing a bit of coated paper. 

Sure you can go as complex as you want, obviously, but in the initial stages it is all about learning the craft, and that doesn't have to be too expensive if you move along the RC paper route ***. 

What printing does need, is enthusiasm; an ability to take some (sometimes) considerable knocks in confidence, but above all else an ability to take it on the chin and keep going. That doesn't sound like FUN but I swear to you that it is - it's wonderful actually and in my opinion at least half of what makes you a 'photographer' - well it is at least half of what makes me a photographer.

Anyway, that's an aside. 

Things are moving. 

*** As an aside to this I urge Ilford to please watch the pricing on paper, because it would be quite easy to kill 'wet' printing stone dead. Having just been financially crippled from ordering 125 sheets of 8x10 MGFB, it doesn't half make you think twice; AND that's me speaking as a really enthusiastic printer . . . so Harman/Ilford, please . . watch it.

I'll not say much more than this:

If you are new to 'traditional' photography, Hello! well done, it's fun and hard work, but more the former than the latter. 

It can be as easy or as difficult as you wish, but that's up to you. 

At the end of the day it is ALL about expressing yourself. 

It might not be obvious, but that small miracle of metal/plastic/emulsion and glass that you're holding is a portal to creativity and self-expression. 

It's a time machine, a black hole and a conduit all at once.

It can frustrate and delight all on the same roll! 

Use it wisely and it can give you decades of pleasure (as long as they keep manufacturing film and paper). 

Treat it with respect and pleasure and it will repay you in spades.

In short, it's a wonderful thing.

And that's it - of course this could all be a herd of bullocks and a mere blip in the coincidence/time continuum, however, for the moment . . . 

There y'go - unusually for me - briefer than an ill-fitting pair of 1970's mustard-yellow Y-fronts.

Good luck folks!

Much love and respect.

H xx

Rescuing Old Crap

Well folks, and a jolly top-o-the-morning to you!

Today's post is something that might interest those of you who have darkrooms (or even those of you who don't) . . . basically it is dealing with ancient materials.

I have no wish for this to be considered a 101 on old photographic materials - there's lots of info out there already; all I can do is present my own experiences over the years and add in some practicle titbits of advice which you can either accept as a voice of experience, or tell me to F-off in the most brusque manner . . . it is up to you!

My Favourite.
There’s Something A Bit Hipgnosis About This.
Ancient Tri-X/Ancient Tetenal TT/Grade 4

Film and paper - gosh there's a lot of it out there!

As old photographers die, their relatives shove the stuff up on Ebay at a rate of knots. Look! some of them even open the black plastic bags full of paper and photograph the paper, just so you can see what great condition it is in! 

Film! 

I find it incredible that someone wants to buy film that expired in 1999 for a new project, when they could just as easily spend a bit less and get something that is fresher and more likely to deliver PREDICTABLE results. 

Yes folks it is true, at some point down the old film route, you'll meet Mr. N. Tropy and you know what, he ain't happy. Of course that's OK if you really don't mind wasting your time and efforts, but for me, I'd rather err on the side of caution.

I've been rather taken aback recently with some first-hand experience of the dread Ilford Backing Paper Mottle, because, strangely, it is not a consistently predictable defect. 

I've had it occur on some very old film indeed (Pan F) and yet Delta 100 with the same expiry (presumably manufactured around the same time) has been absolutely fine. 

Indeed Pan F from the same batch has been fine! 

FP4+ that expired a couple of years ago - 75% of the batch it was from has been fine so far and yet I had another roll from the same batch with the mottle. 

It is frustrating, annoying, upsetting and baffling, all at the same time. 

So basically what I am saying is that before you spend whatever on 20 rolls of Ilford whatever on Ebay that expired a few years back . . think twice. You've no idea how the film has been stored, nor whether you'll get mottled . . . 

Film is fairly hermatically sealed in that foil and yet some of the explanations I have seen for it have included atmospheric conditions! Hmmmm.

But anyway, that's an aside, albeit a worrying one . . . back to the meat and two veg of this post.

Our ‘old crap’ candidates for rescue were a roll of 120 Tri-X which was at the very least 30 years old, and a box of Tentenal TT RC paper, which, according to its previous custodian was at least 25 years old. 

That's over a quarter of a century of wear and tear. 

The Tri-X was paper/foil wrappered - not plastic - there was no date on it.

Being a bit of a twat, I thought what the hell, shoved it in the Hasselblad and took it down to Dundee's whale sculpture on a bright Winter's morning; snapping away just for the sheer pleasure of hearing a shutter go off. 

I had no preconceptions about these photos, they were just for fun. 

Getting home I thought that with film that old, I'd want to use a developer with some ooomph. 

In hindsight, this was daft thinking, but I'll not digress. 

I used HC 110, Dilution B, crossed my fingers and prayed to Ansel. 

Sorry No Light Table.
A Foggye Daye In Old Dundee Towne.

What emerged out of the fixer was OK-ish. 

I say OK-ish but there were large levels of base fog and even though I'd rated the film at EI 200, the negatives were quite underexposed in places (I can probably put this down to using a newly acquired Gossen Digisix, which I was unfamiliar with). Of course the base fog was at work too, rolling in like a grey version of the famous Dundee haar. 

So I made a contact print (again on really ancient Ilford Cooltone MGRC) looked at it and thought:

"Sheesh, what's the point?!”

And I put the whole thing aside . . . for a year.

Go On, Admit It. You Would Too.

But during that year, things changed a bit. I progressed a lot as a printer, simply because the lovely chap who gave me the Tetenal paper also gave me several hundred sheets of other papers - all well old (a minimum of 20 years) - I wasn't going to just ditch it, I was going to learn how to use it!

And I did - it was a steep curve. Fresher paper gives you wonderful blacks and crisp whites (mostly) but with some of the stuff I was using I was treated to muddy-greys and safari suit whites that had been dipped in dirty washing-up water. But the key thing is that I used its shortcomings as a learning curve - indeed most of the pictures I’ve published on this ‘ere blog in recent times (and my Instagram feed) are all scans off prints made on the self-same paper.

But back to that film/developer thing. Reading Anchell and Toop's 'Film Developing Cookbook' they said that the likes of Rodinal was far less likely to increase base fog than most other developers. Hmmmm, I thought - maybe the HC wasn't the best thing after all.

So having also been given nearly 70 rolls of truly ancient film, I started using Fomadon R09 at 1+50 and it has worked very well indeed. 

I'll sometimes use HC 110 (if the film isn't truly ancient) but mostly it has been Fomadon . . . and weirdly, also Perceptol. 

The thinking behind Perceptol is that although it is a solvent developer, it can really work with negatives with a broad tonal range. If you're knocking 3 or 4 stops off a film's box speed and pumping your exposures, why risk blasting the highlights? 

I’ve found Perceptol to be excellent in these sorts of situations - I use it at the Barry Thornton approved 1+2.

That's all well and good Sheepy, but warrabootthepapeeerman?

Ah yes, paper. 

A great deal depends on how it has been stored. 

The stuff I was given, had been, I think, bought in the Middle East, transported to New Zealand and then eventually back to the UK. 

It hadn't been frozen, just standard room temperatured. 

As I said before I wasn't going to just ditch it.

Well, straight outta the box the Tetenal (and indeed 30 years old Ilford MG) hit me with a brick of disappointment.

I tried to print them both at the notional 'standard' print of Grade 2 and got nowhere; the whole Grade 2 being the prime Grade for a print, is I believe an outdated concept, or at least it certainly has been for me. 

For many years I printed and aimed for a negative that would print on Grade 2. 

Having recently reviewed a lot of these archival prints I actually ended up chucking out a few hundred. Why? 

They were flat. 

As dead as a Dodo. 

Grade 2 whilst having a lovely spread of greys, really didn't do anything for the images - it’s probably the way I take ‘em - on the other hand Grade 3 and up did. 

So, with paper as ancient as we're talking about, your minimum starting point is Grade 3 (actually Ilford recommend [if you’re using a diffusion enalrger] that you print harder anyway). 

It will give you an averagely decent print (on the whole). 

I say that because, you'll probably find some of your Ebay chancers are actually fogged. 

Weirdly fogging isn't a consistent thing either. 

I was given (about 8 years back) some Agfa MCC from around the early 2000’s. 

My initial prints on it at Grade 2 were WTF? 

EVERYTHING was dull; even the paper base was dull. 

I tried some Benzotriazol and that's didn't cure anything either. 

In a fit of pique I thought I'll try one more, but at Grade 4. 

And you know what . . . the print was lovely, as was the rest of the box of paper. 

So, old Paper . . . Grade 3 minimum and maybe even more likely Grade 4. 

Fogging on the first sheet you grab? 

Delve deeper into the stack of paper and see what happens - like the Ilford Mottle it is NOT consistent.

Grade 3
Note Exposed Edge, Top Left

What A Difference A Grade Makes.
Grade 4

Grade 4 - Exposed Edge Top Left

Grade 4 Again - Not The Best Print Though

Still Looks Dull On Grade 4

Grade 5 Is Better, However I Misaligned The Image
 - Note The Rebate Is Showing Top Right Edge -

In The Words Of Robert Carlisle:
“Aaaah, That’s Better!"

With the Tetenal my starting point was Grade 3. 

But it was a no-no. 

Not exactly dull, just lacking in a bit of that old brass band OOMPA! 

Of course it has since occured to me that with these papers being ‘Pearl’ or ‘Lustre’ or basically anything slightly matt, you’re not going to get the same blast of euphoniums that you do with a good old glossy; however this is what I have at the moment. 

So next step - Grade 4 and then 5. 

And it worked. 

Although ye olde Tri-X negatives were pretty fogged and quite dense in places, the extra blast did the trick. 

It was like a whole new Tuba section wheeling on from a side street!

So, it can be done.

Take your time, make a nice print, double fix them, bit of toning and you’ve got something that should last as well as anything from a fresh source.

What I actually like about these photos is they are imperfect. In these days of software straightening everything, there’s none of that here. Yes I have converging verticals, yes they’re a bit squinty-woo . . . but I am not software.

As an ammendum to this whole process I found this little nugget on Ilford’s website:

CAN I STILL USE MY OLD OUT OF DATE PAPER?

We do not put expiry dates on paper as there are so many factors which influence how it will perform over time, for example, papers stored in cool dry conditions will fare better than those stored under more adverse conditions. Refrigerated papers will last even longer.

A simple print test will tell you if an old box of paper is performing to standard.

Well, I’ve got that to pushing 30 years so far . . . not too bad at all and sort of bodes well for the 1960’s box of Bromesco I have been given. 

As for you dear reader, of course you will be hit with the dread grey cat in a grey room - it’s bound to happen, but if you follow what I’ve said here and print at a harder Grade, hopefully you can skirt around it.

And remember if your lovely new batch of ancient film is smelling a bit funny . . . use Rodinal (sic).

And if you can’t be arsed, don’t blame me - YUMV as they say these days.

And that as they say, is that. 

Please remember I did this for fun and the learning process. 

It’s not ‘mission critical’. 

That’s probably why I’ve just ordered some fresh boxes of MGFB.

Over and oot.

H xx