MF's Not Dead

Morning folks - I have to admit that I have been quite tearful recently. 

And why's that? you might ask, and I'll tell you . . .

Muuuuum!! It was that Bruce from The Online Darkroom. Muuuuummmmm!

Ilford FP4+ At Work

But first let me explain myself - I was recently incredibly lucky to be allowed, properly allowed, inside a derelict building. 

No mincing about making sure the rozers haven't seen you . . . oh no, someone actually opened the door! The place was Dundee's Maryfield Tram Depot and for nearly all of its life from 1901 to 1956 it was just that - a massive hangar in which to store trams. 

When the trams were decommissioned it saw life as a property for corporation buses and then reached an ignominious end in the hands of Scottish Water.

It has been empty/derelict for roughly 20 years and was in a state of potential collapse before it caught the eye of Dundee Transport Museum. 

Hopefully, with a TON of cash in the form of funding, and most importantly vision from its board, this wonderful (and large) old building will be brought back to life as just that - a museum that reflects the story of the cities transport systems. 

I can't wait. 

I have to say I do have an affinity with lovely old places (like the depot) that have been treated really badly. 

I dunno, I always feel that there's something of the spirit of the place hanging around in darker corners and eaves and so on, waiting for someone who actually gives a damn to come along and rub their chin and say:

"Well . . . . maybe . . . "

Anyway, a bunch of us from the DCA Photography Forum got a chance to go. 

I packed the Hasselblad SW; the Gossen Lunasix-S; a tripod and some FP4 and had a bloody great time. 

I got home, eagerly processed the film in Pyrocat-HD and then next day made a contact print and winged a snap of it over to Bruce ('cos we do such things) and awaited his (always) considered, objective and knowledgable opinion . . . . and this is what came winging back and what set me off a-blubbin':

You’re going to hate me, Phil, but I think digital is better suited to photographing the interiors of old buildings than film. There, I’ve said it. I spent a while looking at Neil’s (Neil, being another member of the forum) pictures and your contact sheet and I can’t really see any advantages from film. 

Take the “comparison” pics I’ve attached - and I know yours is just a contact so it’s very unfair. But do you see yourself being able to get as much detail and micro contrast out of that scene? That Leica must be some camera as I don’t think I’d have got results like Neil’s from the D700. Neil obviously knows his way around Photoshop or whatever but I think he stays on the tasteful side of editing. The highlights in his comparison pic are spot on I think, loads of detail but light enough that you get the sense of the contrast between the darkness in the building he’s standing in and the adjacent building. Did he use a bit of HDR right enough? If so, he’s done it well. The texture in that scene is amazing. You can see the unevenness on the surface of every brick.

You’re going to have a job getting something like that out of the FP4 because film is HARD compared to digital. In the recent past I might have dismissed the digital shots as, “Well, yeah, that’s the computer doing all the work.” But just concentrating solely on the images and not thinking about the processes, then digital produces better results in most cases. I think that’s what’s changed for me: I’m now more concerned about the print in my hand rather than how it got there. Yes, there’s all the tradition behind film, Minor White, Ralph Gibson, Ansel, etc, but the reality is that these guys used film because it’s all they had and most would have used digital had it been available to them. You’re presumably using MF for sharpness and a lack of grain but digital does that much better. If you use 35mm for grain and a (comparative) lack of sharpness then you’re playing to film’s strength. Basically, digital does MF better than MF but film does 35mm better than digital.

Here's two of Neil's photographs - he was using a Leica M 240 and 21mm Elmarit.

© Neil Robertson

© Neil Robertson

They're good aren't they, and even rather film-like - especially the second one.

Hmmmm - was The Robbins right?

Two boxes of Man-Size Kleenex and a day later, I was still upset; so much so that I sobbed all the way to the darkroom.

I had to prove something to myself, because I respect Bruce's opinion and his judgements of both image and print making. I also respect Neil's photography - he's been doing it for a very long time and has probably used more cameras than you've had hot dinners! And (amongst other things) he's a really good street photographer too.

Anyway, with gritty determination, I fired up the DeVere 504 with the 100mm Vivitar and made some prints. 

It can be unusual making 8 prints from a film that only has 12 frames on it, but I was happy with all of them; in actuality I could probably have printed 11, but stuck at 8 as it gets really hard to dry that many big prints in my tiny darkroom - especially so when you're using a caravan retractable clothes line as your hanging source!

My current image size is 8 x 8" on 9.5 x 12" Ilford MGRC Pearl - that will continue as long as I have that size paper left, after which economics will dictate that I revert to 10 x 8".

The developer I used was some truly ancient Adox MG (it had been in one of those soft pack things for at least a couple of years); they were then double fixed and selenium toned. 

I'm really happy with them.

They're different to Neil's photos - he bought some really fine inkjet prints of them along to the last meeting and we compared notes. 

As I said before, he'd been using a Leica M 240 with a 21mm Elmarit. 

To my eyes they look different, yet in some ways quite similar - especially my sixth one down (compared to his first photograph); his camera picked out details on the wall that were virtually invisible to me (my meter reading for those shadows was EV 1) - such is the nature of modern photography!

Anyway, here's my prints - all scans of the original silver gelatin jobs.

I still think MF is a very valid format - OK it isn't all bells and whistles and hyper-reality, but it does a very good job of conveying space and light and atmosphere (though how you can judge that I have no idea). 

As with all these things, it is also the process itself that ensures its validity. 

I simply wouldn't bother if I were able to check things immediately and then spend the afternoon dealing with them on a computer; I just love the sheer footeriness and downright challenge that Medium Format photography brings; it's a considered and methodical way of doing things to me, and I will continue to do it for as long as I am able.

The thing I would say about MF is, definitely 'professionally' it's as dead as a dodo - you just have to look at the slew of images in this year's Hasselblad Masters competition to realise that THE name in MF, has little interest in its heritage. 

And yet, I'll pose you this question . . how come, old Hasselblads, Rolleis, Mamiyas, Bronicas and Fujis STILL keep selling? 

They're not exactly cheap these days - in fact if you'd had enough money to buy a bundle of 500C/M bodies back in the heyday (1980's) then you'd be making approximately three times what you paid for them.

Is there really a deep-pocketed army of 'advanced amateurs' keeping this going? Or is it the fact that (like me) people realise that roll film is a wonderful and (dare I say it) therapeutic form of photography, whereby you can enjoy a great deal of the scutter that comes with Large Format, with little of the weight and hassle. 

There's no doubt about it, Large Format photography makes you (well it does me) feel like A Photographer. 

There's something primal from photography's early days that fires up every time you see an upside down and reversed ground glass . . .

But the thing is, when I am out somewhere wild with the Hasselblad and I've chosen my point of view and composed, locked the mirror up, watched the scene and then squeezed the cable release, that quite and precise whirr of the shutter makes me feel the same way.

 

I guess it is the Visual Heritage of Medium Format - from Callahan to McKenna (and all points inbetween). 

So much incredible photography has been made with roll film, how could you really go wrong?

MF makes me feel like I am walking in some pretty important footprints and more to the point, makes me feel responsible for preserving a legacy that shouldn't just be allowed to be side-lined by advances in technology.

There, I've said it, Medium Format photography isn't dead . . it doesn't even smell funny. As long as 120 film continues to be made, there'll be a bunch of nutters (and I would call myself a chief nut) out there, revelling in the freedom of (sic) a roll of film.

Bruce and I are still friends by the way - I just wish he'd use his film cameras more these days, and whilst he is currently having a whale of a time with his ancient D700, an as-ancient Epson and some old software, he is (still in my opinion and he can disagree as much as he likes) a film photographer at heart (as he might say, whatever THAT may mean these days).

As always, thanks for reading . . . keep on thinking!

H xx

Pull The Ud(der) One

Morning folks - hope you are all well. 
Today's rather unusually entitled post has probably been percolating in my mind for at least 50 years, ever since I read Roger Price's book 'Droodles'. 

I've mentioned it before on FB and I still find it funny and in particular the Droodle "An Old Cow Hand". 

I suppose it says something about me, but don't you agree that such things read at a very formative age can go on to have a profound influence on your life?

I spent a huge amount of my formative years reading 'proper' Sci-Fi, and a lot of that post-Apocalyptic stuff; a healthy respect for J G Ballard, John Wyndham and Edmund Cooper coloured my world, along with a love of where Ray Bradbury placed humans in a future that was (at the time) undreamt of. 

Ray's futures might have been partially in space or some semi-distant time-frame, but it was where humans were and what they did within that place that was the important thing. 

Ursula Le Guin did a similar thing. 

In 'The Lathe of Heaven' published in 1971, she describes a hapless character whose dreams change the 'current' reality and who gets exploited by the psychiatrist who is supposedly 'curing' him. 

It is a mind-blowing book and poses the question that what if we as humans were unwittingly exploited for seemingly good reasons; would the world become more ordered or would chaos reign? 

Damn she hit the nail on the head. 

Does it not feel (to you) that the world we now live in is just some mad f-ed up experiment? 

It does to me - it has almost gone beyond surreal.

Frank Herbert wrote similarly to Le Guin; in 'The Heaven Makers', all human life was influenced by invisible alien machines to create 'entertainment' for alien invaders.

It's a fabulous concept, and if you only know Frank from 'Dune' please do read his smaller novels - they're superb. 

From devouring libraries-worth of SF, probably my favourite book came to me much later in life; indeed, roughly 40 years later. 

Despite its late assimilation, I love it like one of my old faves. 

It is Walter Tevis' 'Mockingbird'. 

To cut a long story short, with a backdrop of love and humanity, we also have a supreme robotic intelligence, in charge of a world where the technology is slowly failing; the robot (Spofforth) knows this, but is, in a wonderfully human twist, bored and actually wants to kill himself, but can't because of his programming. 

It takes the concepts of Azimov's Foundation series and turns them on their head in a way that only a great writer could. 

Tevis similarly juxtaposed the what-ifs in the more famous work 'The Man Who Fell To Earth' in which a higher intelligence becomes stranded on earth, is crippled by the government and ends up seeking solace in drink.

So what has this got to do with photography? 

Well, as I have banged on about many times before, it seems to me that the lunatics have finally taken over the asylum. 
In driving cameras further and further up this one way road to a golden technological future with a goal of seamless user-experience, they've kicked the ball into their own net on the final whistle.

An own goal? 

Ai-powered picture taking? 

Ai-powered picture faking? 

Or, my current pet hate, automatically corrected verticals and horizontals. Have you noticed how nobody nowadays (except a complete idiot [or actually a 'human' photographer]) takes photos with squint verticals and horizons anymore? 

EVERYTHING is perfect.

From swapping 'best take' portraits of your friends onto (sic) Charles Atlas-style torsos to software infills of a landscape that doesn't exist. From motion-stopping settings, to something that can actually fill-in a footballer (sic) that has momentarily been hidden by another player.

I'm sorry, but The Photograph is dead; whilst the software-based image is alive and kicking. 

Indeed 'images' are now so embedded in the psyche that nobody pays any attention to them any more. It's over. 

Cameras are meaningless. 

What was once a profound tool that could change things is now nothing more than a child's cardboard box for playing with.

My friend Alan recently said to me something along the lines of: you're lucky still using film because at the end of the day you have an art object (in the form of a negative and a print). 

I'll raise my hat to him on that. 

In an era where little is tangible, it's nice to be producing things that are tangible (no matter their end).

I'll finish this little bit by saying that I think Winston Churchill had it right:

"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

If only the people in charge of our modern world (and believe me no matter how free you think you are, you're not really) had read more dystopian SF when they were young . . . would the world be in an any better place? 

If the 'freaks and hippies' of Edmund Cooper's 'All Fool's Day' had actually survived the 'straight' (1970's terminology . . anyone in a suit) plague that wiped out 'normal' society and had flourished in a Utopian Society rather than falling into gangs of self-seeking chancers (Never Trust A Hippy is what Johnny said), would the world be a better place? or is it the case that no matter what you are, where you're from or how you think, you'd still become a character from Justin Sullivan's prophetic 1989 song about depopulation and the lure of 'The Smoke':  'Green And Grey":

The time I think most clearly, the time I drift away

Is on the bus ride that meanders up these valleys of green and grey

I get to think about what might have been and what may yet come true

And I get to pass a rainy mile thinking of you

And all the while, all the while, I still hear that call

To the land of gold and poison that beckons to us all

Nothing changes here very much, you used to say it never will

The pubs are all full on Friday night and things get started still

We spent hours last week with Billy boy, bleeding, yeah queuing in Casualty

Staring at those posters we used to laugh at,

Never Never Land, palm trees by the sea

Well there was no need for those guys to hurt him so bad

When all they had to do was knock him down

But no one asks too many questions like that anymore, since you left this town

And tomorrow brings another train

Another young brave steals away

But you're the one I remember

From these valleys of green and the grey

You used to talk about winners and losers all the time, as if that was all there was

As if we were not of the same blood family, as if we live by different laws

Do you owe so much less to these rain swept hills than you owe to your good self?

Is it true that the world has always got to be something

That seems to happen somewhere else?

For God's sake don't you realize that I still hear that call

Do you think you're so brave just to go running to that which beckons to us all?

And tomorrow brings another train

Another young brave steals away

But you're the one I remember

From these valleys of green and the grey

No, not for one second did you look behind you

As you were walking away

Never once did you wish any of us well

Those who had chosen to stay

And if that's what it takes to make it

In the place that you live today

Then I guess you'll never read these letters that I send

From the valleys of the green and the grey

Valleys of green and grey

Anyway, enough of this; from the time of my favourite novels comes a lens in the form of a 1973 20mm UD-Nikkor. it's a gigantic lump of metal and glass which, if mounted to a 1974 Nikon F2 (with DP2 finder) becomes a serious consideration for carry-around camera.

And I suppose it is this perversity to use such outmoded and human-inputted technology that drives me. 

Sure I could go into my local City centre, blaze through 20 billion images and come home, edit them and then print them out in postcard size on a nice little inkjet at half the cost. 

But I don't, and that's because somewhere in me is some sort of wish to stand out a bit. 

It's that perverse 'get-it-right-up-ye!' attitude (which I suppose comes from a youth spent listening to rock, punk and metal) that makes me not want to conform. 

I also really dislike how big corporations become embroiled in ones' life.

If you'd ever met my Mum she'd have told you; when I had hair half-way down my back she'd always say: "why don't you get a nice haircut?" to which I'd roll my eyes and to which she would laugh, knowing that I definitely wouldn't but that she'd just lovingly goaded me. 

One lives in the wake of one's parents, but in a good way. 

My father loved his Brownie 127 and Instamatic, but was always jealous of his friend's Braun. 

Dad's retirement present was a Kodak Carousel and screen. 

If he knew how much I was embroiled in taking and making photographs I think he would be pleased. 

My Mum was an independent soul who once (as a teenager) cycled from London to Wales and back, on a sit-up-and-beg, on her own; that is an achievement.

So blame them for this - independence and cameras . . in a nutshell.

Anyway, enough of me shite - one could argue that photography has always been at the behest of big corporations from Kodak to Nikon, via Ilford and Praktika and Zeiss . . . plus ca change.

So here's some scans of this month's time wasting. 

All 20mm UD-Nikkor, Kentmere 400 film and the chunkiest chunk of super-chunky machine - my Nikon F2 (thank Bob and Lynn and Len and Joyce). 

The prints are on Ilford Portfolio in postcard size and the lens used to print them was a 5cm f2.8 El-Nikkor - it is nearly as old as me and has a proper old Nikon Plug-Lugs (Bash Street Kids) lens cap.

'Tis a lovely thing - were I more pshop-oriented I'd have stuck Plug's face on the lens cap . . but here he is anyway - the likeness is uncanny isn't it?

Anyway, onwards with the postcards - the first one is how they look as postcards (10 x 15cm paper) with a 5mm border and the rest have just been cropped to the image size. 

Straight scans off the prints themselves.

And that, as they say, is that. 

The Kentmere 400 was rated at 200 and was developed in Fomadon R09 at 1+75 for adjacency effects and also because it pays to live a bit dangerously every now and then. 

I could find no time for that dilution so extrapolated from Goldfinger's time of 14 minutes for HP5.  

I did my normal agitation and temperature procedure to the 14 min. mark and then let the whole lot stand to 20 mins; the theory being that the developer exhausts itself on the highlights but continues bringing up shadow detail and from reading around, shadow-detail can be a bit lacking with Kentmere 400. 

The results were some of the easiest negatives I've ever had to print. 

I had to use 2 reels in a larger Paterson tank because the quantities were roughly (yes you can get away with not being microlitre precise) 7ml to 500ml - you don't want to really use anything less than 6 ml of any Rodinal-based developer.

And that as they say is that. 

Done and dusted. 

Dangerous and Daring Trousers nailed to the analogue (sic) mast.

In the words of The Firesign Theatre (whaddyamean you've never heard of them??) "Don't Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me The Pliers".

Over and oot

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