I'm In Love With My ̶C̶a̶r̶ Sonnar

OK and Good Morning/Evening.

Well this tale is like a strange love story.

It's a bit like the best Romcom ever made - When Harry Met Sally.

First the characters meet but there's indifference. Then time takes its toll, life moves on, they meet every now and again and they start to get used to each other; then there's the denouement when love is proclaimed and they sail off into a happy future together. 

Sorry to ruin it if you've never seen it, but you really should.
Oh and it has the best Mexican Wave in the history of film - I never tire of it.

Anyway, nearly 2 years past this April, I bought a reasonably priced CF 150mm Sonnar for the 500C/M. I liked it, but barely used it. It was part of my arsenal, but was bypassed in favour of the 60mm Distagon and the SWC/M.

If you read FB regularly, you'll know I had terrible trouble with underexposure recently - you can read the whole sorry story here - however, as detailed below, I am pretty sure I've discovered what I did wrong.
Huzzah!

But to rewind a little, I desparately wanted to see whether I really did need to buy another light meter (I was convinced it was duff, despite testing it against 2 other meters) so I packed the 500C/M, attached the Sonnar and went out into the freezing cold.
I dunno, the things I do for this 'ere blog . . . 

Why the Sonnar?
Well Bruce from The Online Darkroom and I had been talking about lenses and he'd said he'd love to see some of my reflection photos made with the 150mm. I thought about it for a while, because I didn't think it would work; I didn't think you could get in close enough to get that wideness you need with reflection photos. Anyway, my fears were unfounded and even though there's only a couple of those photos of slightly that ilk on here, a longer lens really does work.
Not only that, but I've discovered that at pretty much any aperture, the humble 150mm Sonnar (the cheapest lens you can buy for a Hasselblad, full stop) is sharp and beautiful.
It's a stone cold optical bargain actually.

As an optical design it is ancient - nearly as old as semi-modern photography itself - and wonderfully simple; however, with Zeiss' T* coating (and maybe a lens hood++) it is as good as it gets actually.
Well it is in my opinion.

++ If you own a Hasselblad, don't be tempted by the likes of Photodiox lens hoods or those awfully cheap ones on Ebay - they're mostly very poor - I know because I have spent the money for you and tested them myself.
The real Hasselblad ones are made from high grade plastic and are built to last.

Urban Artist, Dundee

You kind of need a hood, especially in circumstances like the above, but onwards, that's a sample print . . . strap your rubber trousers on, 'cos here's THE CONTACT!

Film #66/53

                            

Film #66/53

Anyway, as before and the new regime, here's my film notes - you know the score by now, read 'em or don't bother!

#66/53, HP5 EI 200, 10/2/19

1./ 1/15th, f8, Z? Guess Gossen/Lux comparison

2./ 1/125th, f11, ZIII, Gossen

3./ 1/125th, f11, ZIII, Gossen

4./ 1/125th, f11, ZIII, Gossen

5./ 1/125th, f11, Z?, Gossen/Shatter

6./ 1/125th, f11, Z?, Gossen/Shatter

7./ 1/250th, f11, ZIII, Refl.

8./ 1/60th, f8, C-Gul, Guess

9./ 1/60th, f16, ZIII, Wall

10./ 1/60th, f11, ZIII, Design

11./ 1/60th, f.8, ZIII, Plant

12./ 1/15th, f5.6, ZIII, Guess

All handheld

PHD 5+5+500 22℃.

Agit 30 sec, then 4 per min,to 17 mins then stand to 21. No waterbath.

Very happy with this - I double checked the Gossen with Lux on the piephone - the Gossen is fine. I read the standard reading not the spot on 66/52

It might be hard to discern from the contact above, but it was printed at Grade 0 to give me some idea of the negatives potential. It is a new way of working for me and I like it. Sadly scanning only really reveals part of the story, but if it wasn't scanned you wouldn't see it, so you'll have to carry on squinting.

Ah, but before we get into the meat and potatoes (actually neeps are probably better for the gut and can be wonderful in a casserole) here's what happened last time:

Maybe you'll remember in Rescue Job I detailed the horrors of an underexposed film, well I think I've worked out what I did wrong.
The bit below also explains why I am talking about Gossen and Piephone in the notes above.

An Old Friend

So, here's an old old friend, my Gossen Lunasix 3s, with spot attachment.

When I started again, I couldn't afford fancy-pants Sekonic or Pentax spot-meters, so I ended up with a battered but useable Gossen, from MXV for very little money - possibly about £30 - and it has been a reliable friend ever since. 

It's also one of the most sensitive light meters ever made and tbh I love it. 

I had him recalibrated (for exactly NOTHING) by Gossen about 10 years back, and have made many well metered photographs with him. The spot attachment was an option accessory and clips on the front - it reads 7.5 or 15 degrees, I use 7.5. 

The whole shebang is kept in a £5 Lowepro compact camera case on a strap, and when out and about, that is worn on my left hip, camera bag on my right, bandolero style! 

It's convenient and works for me.

Gossen Lunasix 3s

What I did wrong last time:

- I'm only huuuuman after all, I'm only huuuuman after all . . . blah blah blah -

You see the meter window at the top has the needle nearly on 11? 

Well using the spot attachment, I should have been aligning the 11 on the lower yellow disc with the green mark (just above that disc - it is to the left of the yellow triangle).

Instead I was using the spot attachment and using the 'standard' reading on the silver disc (just above the 'V'.)

Confused?

Me too, and I hope I have dissected it correctly - it really is much easier with a meter in your hand than staring at a screen. Anyway, suffice to say that I was consistently underexposing by a whole stop  - not too much trouble if you were using ZV, however I always place shadow readings on ZIII, so with the last film I was actually placing everything on Z II, hence, shite.

Lesson learned!

Be aware.

Shattered Window, Wobbly Bridge, Dundee

A picture of that shattered window from last time - it is trickier to photograph than it looks - I've probably handled the exposure a bit too heavily here, but it does get the extraordinary texture across. On the whole I like it, but I've taken better photos of it.

Inside Outside, Vision, Dundee

If you're a REALLY longtime FB reader you might recognise this scene from years back. It's in the Vision building in Dundee. The last time I photographed it, it was almost empty; nowadays, well there's a lot of it being used, hence the office chairs and tables. I just liked the fact that it wasn't at all apparent where the outside began and the inside ended.

It's scanned off a print made on Ilford MGRC Pearl and lightly toned in selenium. The print is better than the scan (but then I would say that wouldn't I!) - in fact everything on here is scanned - the prints are better.

Urban Artist, Dundee

Here's an on-the-fly portrait of a young artist.

I've photographed him before - he's a really interesting chap actually, more artist than graffitti artist, he's more inclined to cheer the place up with his crazy pictures of charachatured Seagulls, than to tag his name everywhere. I like that attitude. Anyway, he was doing this crazy Doctor Octopus Seagull on an ex-Dundee Waterfront noticeboard that someone had scrawled "Cock" all over - public service or what?!
I asked him if I could take his pic and he agreed.

It was a tricky one actually, because of the strong backlight coming from behind him, and I am glad I opted for f8 rather than f5.6, because it snagged the catchlights in his eyes.
There's something Breugel-esque about this and I can't place it.
I know, give him a brush and some sack-cloth and there y'go!
PS. the arm movement was from his spray can shaking - gotta keep it moving in cold weather . . .
It is my favourite from the whole film - maybe I am more of a people person than I thought. It was easy to go up to him and start chatting.

Wall, Dundee

This wasn't as well executed as I'd hoped - I just liked the simplicity of the shadows. It was v.hard getting the wall straight from a ground level pov.

Safety Glass, Dundee

Ah, the dread shatter again. Again not as well executed as I'd hoped, but not bad - it kind of looks like a giant Spring roll over-mounted with broken glass. I should try and do a better print of it . . maybe get Bruce in, in his Split trousers to do some adjustin' an' waftin' an' stuff . . 

Whole Safety Glass, Dundee

And the final one - this is a print too, but I'll confess that I've straightened it ever so slightly, as my verticals were off and it is better for it.
This is the back of DOJCA opposite the old plaster sheds  - I just liked the starkness of everything!

A ThinkTank Suburban Disguise 20 Just Ate My Hasselblad

Oh, yeah, I wasn't pulling a Spiderman or nuffink, but just so's nobody can spot me, here's a pic of my ThinkTank Suburban Disguise 20. A 500C/M with Sonnar, hood and back fills it completely, but it is dead convenient and very well made. 

Probably one of the better bags I've owned actually - should I need another bag for anything in the future I might well buy more from their range.

Anyway, that's it.

I've come to love the Sonnar now and look forward to using it further in the future - what a great lens.

Now, remember to tie your shoelaces, lace your bow-tie, clean your teeth, brush your hair, check your wallet and make sure you turned the toaster off.

That's you! 

Off you pop . . see you in a couple of weeks.

Homeless

I pondered about this one, because, despite the title it isn't technically about being Homeless - please read on though - hopefully I'll be able to explain myself better.

There's a gulch near my house - I guess round these parts you'd call it a glen, albeit a really really small one. It is steep and contains a well-maintained public footpath.
It's been there for a long time as far as I can tell.
There's a wall alongside it that I would say dates back to at least the mid-1800's by the look of it, however it is probably likely that the course of the path runs much further back in time.
The wall is certainly on the 1847 Charles Edwards Survey Map.
In my experience boundaries of all kinds are usually far older than they seem.

Prior to the railways arriving, the Firth of Tay was boundaried in this part of town by a cliff before it hit the docks of the city centre. This gulch runs down through what is still there of the cliff.
There is vegetation everywhere - dense old trees, ramsons, ground ivy, bramble, gorse. 

It is (unusually, for public land) completely wild; the council haven't attacked it with weed killer or strimmers.

There are what appear to be animal trackways - they could well belong to deer or foxes or just the humble coney. They're well used, but there's no spraints of any animal variety, just human and then not very often, but it doesn't half give you a surprise!

In amongst this wildness, this lost parcel of land, someone has, at some point in recent time, chosen to take refuge.

I'll pause there, because immediately to my mind the word desperation makes itself felt.

Well. you'll see what I mean when you see the photographs. 

I can sort of understand it though. 

The area is relatively secluded, well, actually, it is very secluded, yet you're within a ten minute walk of food shops and so on.

And yet, despite their invisibility, the sites (there are/were two of them) are despoiled.

Vandals?

Madness?

Who knows?

The site in these photographs contains a (not very obvious) sleeping bag kicked into the dirt and the remnants of a campsite - old buckets, plastic, bottles and tins.
The refuse is actually quite well hidden in the undergrowth, like they wanted it to be secret.

Slowly nature is reclaiming this brief intrusion, as she will always.

The other site contains the same detritus, plus the wreckage of a tarp shelter; a traffic cone; more buckets; some tins and, perhaps shockingly to these modern sensibilities, some sad, lone bits of excrement.
It's a weird thing - everybody does it, few talk about it, but when you discover such a thing, when you nearly plant your foot in it, it becomes a matter of outrage.
You feel really unclean.
I came home and sanitized my tripod legs and shoes

With regards to our depositor of surprises, where has this person gone? 

That's what I'd like to know.

In the past year of so, this is the fourth destroyed campsite I've seen, and not just in my area, but in various bits of the town - the Docks and Seabraes.
Is it the same person?
If it is, to just abandon everything like your sleeping bag, tarp, tent etc., why?

Anyway, I'll leave the unponderables.

Maybe you have a similar thing going on where you live.
It's always worth lifting those bushes and checking - if someone wants to take themselves out of society, well, though not easy, it can be done.

I'm actually reminded of a brilliant book by William Boyd, called Ordinary Thunderstorms, about a scientist, who, through no fault of his own, is thrust into the world of invisibility and starts sleeping rough.

It's a rip-snorter of a plot and highly recommended.

Anyway, enough - on with the photos, though as usual you get the notes too!

Film #66/72

1. 4 second reading to 10 seconds - f8 ZIII - Garage

2. 4 second reading to 10 seconds - f22 ZIII - 21cm Focus - Parallax - Gargh!

3. 1 second reading to 3 seconds - f16 ZIII

4. 1 second - f11 ZIII  - Homeless

5. 2 second reading to 5 seconds - f22 ZIII - Tape Measure 48cm

6. 2 second reading to 5 seconds - f16 ZIII - Tape Measure 52cm - Ivy

7. 1 second - f16 - ZIII

8. 1/2 second - f22 - ZIII

9. 2 second reading to 5 seconds - f11 ZIII - Homeless

10. 2 second reading to 5 seconds - f16 ZIII - Ivy + Tripod Leg

11. 8 second reading to 19 seconds - f22 ZIII - Tape Measure 50cm to 150cm Focus

12. 8 second reading to 19 seconds - f22 ZIII - Quick Release Plate Came Loose

Used a small tape measure a lot - worked well, be sure to use it in the future.

5+5+500ml PHD 22℃ - agit to 14 mins, stand to 18 mins.

The detail on every leaf is extraordinary   - it's like they are etched - very pleasing to my eyes especially considering the blurriness from the PVD which is ongoing and very flarey

Homeless I

Homeless II

Homeless III

Homeless IV

Homeless V

Homeless VI

Homeless VII

Homeless VIII

I know, I can hear you saying it to yourself:

"But where's the filfth? Where's the grinding poverty? Where the Don McCullin man?"

Well, you know, they're/it's not there and that's the sort of semi-surreal thing about it, and I guess that why I am most pleased with Homeless VIII.

The 19 second exposure has given movement to the tree's branches, which in turn has added an air of unreality and dream to it. 

Well it has to my eyes.

Don't worry - I don't think I'll be going all Lee Big Stopper on you yet - that whole branch of modern photography is rather sad. If you want to see what it can truly do, please search out John Blakemore - he was innovating (after a manner with the baton from Wynn Bullock) decades ago.
If you've never looked at either photographer's works, please search them out.

Kudos must be paid to Pyrocat-HD as a developer - without a staining developer there's no way in heck the highlights would have had a chance of being printed.

I know I am lucky too in having the SWC/M to rely on - every single piece of veining on leaves shows up - the Biogon is without a doubt the greatest lens I have ever used.
Not the easiest, no, but certainly the one that renders foliage in a most extraordinary way.
The closest I can get to it is by saying that you can count every leaf and blade, which you really can't with a lot of lenses.

I used my handy Ilford Reciprocity tables - basically, apart from SFX, most Ilford film under time pressure exhibits the same reciprocity failure, so I knocked up a sheet (along with Kodak) affixed it to some card, and laminated it with cellotape - works great!

These are all 800 dpi scans off of the original prints. 

They're all made by me, on my knees (!) in my guerilla darkroom - I guess where there's a will there's a way.

Paper is my current easy go-to paper - Ilford MGRC and they're all on Grade 3, except the contact which was Grade 2. I suppose if I was using a condenser head on the DeVere I'd be Grade 2 for the prints, but no, it's a colour head, so  Grade 3.

I will say, that with my current PVD affecting my eyes, it was damn hard using the grain focuser - they both seemed to be disagreeing (I have two - a Paterson and a Micromega) but in reality it was my eyes at work - very difficult . . but I got there.

Weirdly and cosmically, there's a denouement to all this:

Last night me and t'missus settled down to watch the physicist Brian Cox in his Wonders Of The Universe series - she had some wine and I enjoyed a couple of fine glasses of Ardmore whisky.
Old Coxy boy was explaining atoms and elements; you know the 'We're All Made Of Star Stuff' stuff, and it hit me, that this homeless person and their soon-to-be-returned-to-its-natural-state camp; all the detritus; my camera and film; tripod; the time measured with my Gossen meter and its handy Zone wheel; clothes; me; chemicals; paper; Ardmore; the missus; Coxy; my TV; the tide running deep and wild out in the estuary; my CD player (and Mike Oldfield as I type this); keyboard; ICs in the Mac; phone cables; satellites; you . . .

We're all from the same gaff.

From the same complex, vast in both time and complexity, mishmash of cosmic mashiness.

Like the best bubble and squeak you've ever had, where everything works together, or should work together.

Humans, we have to get there.

There's no going forward nowadays without tolerance, kindness and co-operation.
We're at a point in time where it could soar or go utterly shit-shaped.
For human-kind to progress and lift itself above the sad, petty madness, people have to change.
It is probably unlikely, because there's nothing humans like more than regularity and confirmity and the certainty of the known, but I think you have to move out of that comfort zone sometimes.
Change is good.
It's why we're here.

Maybe homeless person has changed or change has happened to them?
Maybe they 'got lucky' and are driving around in one of the countless bloody Audis you see coming up fast in your rear-view.
Or maybe they copped it and are hidden deep within some Lost Council Wildness waiting for some unfortunate photographer to discover them . . .
Maybe they're still out there, sheltering under some forgotten hedgerow, waiting for time to be kinder to them . . .
Who knows.

That's all there is to it.

For myself I've resolved to think even more on things and try to be less persnickety and pernickety.
Sometimes you have to force yourself to approach things differently.
To quote my hero, Rambling Syd Rumpo from the Sussex Whirdling Song:

"So there he is, a-plighting his troth ...

A troth, by the way, is a small furry creature with fins. It's a cross between a trout and a sloth or slow-th, and it's a curious match. I often wonder what they saw in each other in the first place, though I suppose the sloth, hanging upside down, tends to have a different slant on things."

There, something that makes me laugh, with language distilled from that most disliked of humans (next to the immigrant) the Romany.

It's what everyone needs though - a different slant on things - celebrate your inner sloth.

Weird eh, and sorry for expounding when all you wanted to do was read about film and stuff . . but that's what you get from getting up at 5 AM and drinking too much tea (Hi Mike!!)

Anyway, that's shallot.

I am relatively up-to-date photographically now, so it could be a while before I post anything new.

I did think I could do some more SFX stuff, but the spectre of wrong Nm hit me - it was ghastly and might well be a tale further down the line . . .

Oh and things might change on the next FB simply because Google have decided to change the way you use it to write - I've tried it already and it was more for phone-users and not keyboard heroes . . . 

Over and out - watch out for that trout.

Told you so.

The Deletion Of Memories

The sound of sizzling bacon is making its way up through the floorboards of the Goode Shippe FB. The sun is shining. Our trousers are lightly greased, immaculate Jason King moustaches preened into place, and the axles on the ex-council bowling green roller are well-oiled and ready to go. Yes, it is another Weekend FogBlog, and I certainly hope that our staff photographer is there to take grossly inappropriate photographs as I spill mayonaise down my frilly shirt and accidentally rip the arse out of my split-knee velveteen loons!

You will probably have, somewhere in your house, or in your Mum and Dad's house, a big plastic bag full of old family photographs. Maybe they're extremely organised and are in albums, or (as is most usually the case) there's just a ton shoved away in several boxes. Whatever way, they'll be there somewhere.
This whole practice of photo-squirelling ended for most people in the world about 7 or 8 years ago, when the advent of the (relatively) cheap digital compact camera meant that you weren't stuck with the 36 photographs of all sorts of things that you'd always wasted a roll of film on.
Nowadays, perfection has been reached - you can take a crappy photograph and look at the screen, say to yourself,  'Oh, Aunty  Jean does look like Frankenstein on this one', make your decision on the spur of the moment and bingo, press delete and it is gone forever.
Before this, you took your film to the chemists or the local lab and got them to process it, and (unless Aunty Jean got her hands on it) you were stuck with that photo of her looking exactly like Boris Karloff.
This was a good thing, because mostly you wouldn't get rid of these photos. You really didn't want to tear it in half and chuck it in the bin, because it seemed sacreligious - you had paid good money to have them processed and printed, why automatically tear them up?
Years later, when Aunty Jean had moved on to look like Lon Chaney Jr as the Wolfman:

you could go to your big bag of photos, hunt around for several hours, produce a photograph and say to her 'Remember when you used to look like Boris?'.

But not any more, it has gone. people want to look good in photographs and will delete at the tip of a hat. The thing is, where does this digital censorship stop? Pretty soon, all family photographs will be perfect and the ones that were the most revealing (and perhaps more importantly, truest to the family's real selves) are no longer there. A snapshot, literally, of family life is gone. It is sad isn't it? No more gurning grins; no more haircuts from hell; no more 'What on earth were you doing?'; no more laughter.
People these days just seem to be too darn serious.
So what am I trying to say from this? Well basically it is a plea to all you digital compact family camera people; rather than just take a photograph and automatically checking your screen and making a snap-decision on image execution, why not take a pile and don't edit them at all. I exhort you - this weekend, go out and make a load of images with a proper camera if you have one, or a digi-phone-thingy if that is the last resort.
Put all the ones you would have automatically deleted in a folder somewhere and forget about them. Set up a calendar reminder for say a year or so hence and restrain yourself from looking at them in that time. Then, when the time has passed you can look at them and maybe say to yourself  'I'm glad I didn't get rid of these'.

My wife and I were preparing a slide show for my mother-in-law's birthday, and we were going through bags of old photos looking for suitable ones that we could caption. Eventually we found them - there are plenty of others, but this is a favourite. These days I don't think it would have survived the digital culling.
It screams 1970's, and it isn't just the clothes, it's the wonderful vaguely inaccurate colour. And is that really a huge bag of Embassy and Capstans?
Oh, and I have also kept the caption we added for the slide show, simply because it makes us laugh every time we see it. Hopefully you'll feel that too . . . .
People try to reproduce this colour cast these days when they want to make things look 'retro'. Sometimes they are successful, but often it is too polished. The most successful are your valiant Lomographers, off a Sailin' the Seven Seas of Weirdness.

Rise Of The (Junkyard) Robots Part Two

I, Herman Sheephouse, being of dodgy mind, and sound body, do hereby declare that from now on, I be known, formally, as Herman Sheephouse.
There, that's that out of the way.
Well folks, last time (and if you haven't read it here, you should as it is pointless carrying on otherwise) I said I could show you how 'junk' photographic equipment could help you produce good results if it was used with care . . . well, that is a far-reaching and pompous statement, however whilst not exactly 'junk' the prints below were produced with things that the photographic trade would prefer you not to use so you can spend your hard-earned pennies on something shiny and new!

The Culprits.

A 1958 Minolta Autocord - it has no leather and a highly scratched lens. In other words a pretty old and 'junky' camera infiltrating, like a tramp at a Prom, the lands of 'mint' and 'minty', where true art can only be produced by the best gear money can buy.
Sorry that makes me sound like I hold my prints with some regard, like they are high art or something.
Well, I do, but they're works of craft produced for me - they aren't being exhibited at the V&A . .
Despite being scruffy and for a long time unloved and rejected by society, the Minolta does however work like a dream, with a film advance smoother than my Rollei and a Seikosha shutter that is really something else.

Old paper - basically fibre-based photographic paper from stock produced prior to 2007.

A lens from a widely laughed at manufacturer's enlarger lens range (Vivitar) which actually compares favourably with a Rodenstock Rodagon and actually could well be one of the sharpest enlarging lenses I own.

Kodak Polymax developer, mixed and stored in a plastic bottle for 3 months and gone brown. Wait a minute - who the hell seriously uses Polymax, and aren't you supposed to use mixed chemicals within a short space of time?

Home-made fixer, cheaply made from Sodium Thiosulphate and Sodium Sulphite. Wot, you can make fixer?

Ancient 'well brown' Rodinal.


The Culprits in detail.

The Camera?
Well, if you check the first part of this article here, you'll see that the lens on the Minolta is in terrible condition - a result of decades of cleaning abuse. It is a great shame really. When I first got the camera, I was a bit appalled by its low contrast, however, there is a trick to getting round old lenses that could possibly be in shite condition.
It is a three-fold method:
Firstly, be careful where you point it (this also applies to hosepipes, guns and the male member).
Direct light sources are just going to emphasise everything, so try and avoid if at all possible.
Secondly, use a lens hood. A Rollei Bayonet 1 lens hood fits the Minolta perfectly, and it works. No hood and you are asking for flare, even in overcast situations.
Thirdly, use a robust (er, OK then . . contrasty) developer and film combo. Pan F and HC110, Tri-X and 1:25 Rodinal are good ones. The denser the negative the better really. Increased negative density results in increased micro-contrast, which in turn makes you photographs look sharper too. It does. Honest.

The Paper?
Kentmere Fineprint VC - Finegrain. It is a fibre-based paper and I believe they no longer make the Finegrain surface.
The story:
Back in 2007 I purchased some Glossy Kentmere Fineprint. It is a very nice paper actually and I would say if you have never thought about Kentmere, give it a go.
Anyway, that was back in the day when it was still manufactured in the Lake District. I had some faults on a couple of sheets, and phoned them up. They said send us some samples of the fault, so I did. They got back to me. A fairly disgruntled employee (who I think had worked there for years) told me Harman had bought the company, were moving production, and that was that . . .
So I contacted Harman and sent them some more examples. They looked at them, kindly agreed with me and sent me a replacement box. However, it was the Finegrain surface, not Gloss. I thought 'Och well, give it a go' and by the time I had decided I didn't really get on with the surface, I'd used about 10 sheets. So I chalked it up to experience, sealed up the box in late 2007 and haven't opened it since.
So that is roughly 6 years out of date for a start. And of course, always assuming that the box I had sent to me was fresh in the first place . . . who knows!
Here's a pic of my two boxes of Kentmere and their production codes:

Paper is supposed to go off isn't it? The perceived wisdom of most photographic paper is that it is good for a couple of years and then starts to exhibit signs of base-fog, necessitating an addition of a 1% solution of benzotriazole which helps to keep some of the mud at bay.
Well, all I can say is that the average exposure time for the prints below was 12 seconds at f16 . . none too tardy I am sure you'll agree.
Not only that, but the blacks are nice and crisp and there's little sign of Cap'n Fog - ol' mud-flaps himself.
Result!
That's an extra 90-odd sheets of paper . . smiles all round.
I've no idea what the Mobberly produced Kentmere paper is like - but I did like the old stuff. Kentmere Graded Glossy and Ilford Galerie were my college staples.

The Lens?
I felt I needed a 100 or 105mm lens for enlarging 6x7 negatives, but being financially spread a little too far, I did some research, narrowed down my options and went cheap.
It arrived (£24 including delivery). I'd bought it off eBay and it had been described as mint. One man's mint is another man's paperweight. On cursory examination it certainly looked mint, however when I actually removed it from the polystyrene keeper and took off the rear lens cap, I discovered massive strands of fungus - and when I say massive, I mean it - this was lens fungus but not as we know it Jim.
And it wasn't just inside either . . it was outside too!
Oh chuff, I thought, but carefully, with the aid of some lighter fluid for the metal parts, ROR for the glass (marvellous stuff) and some silica bags to remove moisture and some serious sessions with the good ol' Sun and the lens in a patch of hot sunlight, I have removed the smell of decay (yep - the same smell as the described in the Leica Sniff Test) and have a gem of a lens.
Actually scouting around, the history of the VHE lenses is super interesting.
They were made by Schneider (you can tell - mine has Schneideritis - a curious 'white' spotty stippling of the black around the lens elements - no detriment to pictures though)
This particular example is a 100mm f5.6 - it is a 6 Element lens..
Hmmm, you'll be saying, wot is so interesting about that?
Well around the time of this lenses manufacture, Schneider were also manufacturing a certain renowned Focotar II 100mm f5.6 for Leitz. Yes, hmmm, interesting . . The Focotar's production range dated from 1974 to 1981. The serial number on the Vivitar is SB 330/79 . .so can I assume that is 1979. Certainly their respective barrels bear no resemblance to each other . . but I would love to see a cross-section of a Focotar 2!

Focotar and Vivitar

I have no pics of the Focotar's construction, however here is a scan of the Vivitar's box so you can see the construction of the VHE.

Roadkill Vivitar Box

I also happen to have a El-Nikkor 80mm (the second version with the rubber ribbing on the barrel) which is regarded as one of the better 6 Element MF enlarging lenses and to be honest, the Vivitar knocks it into a cocked hat. I know enlarger lenses vary enormously in batches, so maybe I have been lucky and got a nice example - if anyone cares to comment please feel free.
It was quite a surprise when I made my first prints with it. Strangely it isn't apparent when focusing on the easel, however I think the prints speak for themselves.
Must do a test some day.
Anyway, for cheap lens, ex-fungal, basically could be considered as a piece of 'junk', it performs exceptionally.

Chemicals?
Print developer.
Well, Kodak Polymax is the liquid equivalent of Kodak's famous print developer Dektol, described by Sir Ansel of the Adams as 'exceptionally clean working'. And it is. But when it has been mixed, it will obviously (like all other photographic chemicals) start to oxidise and will eventually lose its potency and have to be chucked out. Well, this particular mixing is 3 months old, has been used quite a number of times, is brown (very) but works beautifully! The only other print developer that I have seen beat Polymax for mixed longevity is Wolfgang Moersch's Eco Print, which I actually thing is one of the finest print developer's ever made. It is neutral to cold, but just keeps going and going. It is also exceptionally economical too, and like Wolfgang's other products should be considered State Of The Art.
Yes I know if you are reading this outwith Europe you'll find his stuff difficult to get . . and when you do it is expensive, however, what do you expect. It is a dedicated product range from a very small manufacturer, but a manufacturer who has dedicated his working life to the beauty of silver-based photography. As such I think he deserves to be supported.
If you are in the UK, you can get it all from Silverprint.
But back to Polymax. Try it. I always use a pin to pierce the plastic film at the top of the bottle (after the screw cap comes off) and that sort of reduces it's oxidation process, however it will start to go brown in its unmixed state too, but again, it keeps on going and is reliable.
Home made fix.
Basically I used Lloyd Erlick's Plain Fix recipe - full details here. It is a mildly Alkaline fixer and requires less washing than prints treated in Acid fix. It too imparts a slightly cool/purple-ish tone to a print. This can be semi-neutralised with Selenium. It has decent (but not huge) capacity, and will discolour through use (slightly purply).
On the safe side I reckon I can get around 25 8x10 prints out of it. I use a 2 bath fix regime. Basically two identical fixing baths. Fixing times to be safe are around 3 minutes in each one, though I've found you can usually turn the lights on around 2 minutes, however best to do your own tests should you mix some.
I did this because I have run out of Acid fixer which I often use for speed purposes.
But what I am trying to say is that it is easy to mix your own chemicals and do your own thing.
Rodinal.
Cost £6.99 in 2003. Not carefully stored, loads of air space in the 500ml bottle, but works perfectly. I am sure some people would have just chucked it away.


The Prints

I'll preface these with some words about physical vs web viewing.
They look better in the flesh, but you can't all come round to mine . . we haven't enough tea bags and the space in my study is limited . . also, the buses stop at 10.50PM, so web viewing it is.
Web viewing is fraught with difficulty, because your monitor and my monitor aren't the same or even set up the same.
One man's perfect is another man's coal cellar . . so accept the limitations and we can rejoice together . . .
A scanned print isn't anywhere near the physical beauty of a print - no way.
They can digitize our photos and our prints etc etc etc . . .


SHEEPHOUSE: And if this is your army of enthused Amateur Photographers, why does it go?

AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER: We didn't come here to fight for them.

SECOND AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER: Home, the Digital Establishment are too many.

SHEEPHOUSE: I see a whole army of my country men, here, in defiance of tyranny. What will you do without freedom? Will you fight?

AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER: Against that? No, we will run, and we will live.

SHEEPHOUSE: Aye, fight and you may die, run, and you'll live... at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willing to trade all of that from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take away our silver-based passion, but they'll never take our freeeeedom!


And on that note, here they are.

Print 1: Kentmere Fineprint VC Finegrain, Grade 2, Kodak Polymax, plain Fix, Untoned

Print 2: Kentmere Fineprint VC Finegrain, Grade 3, Kodak Polymax, plain Fix, Untoned

Print 3: Kentmere Fineprint VC Finegrain, Grade 4, Kodak Polymax, plain Fix, Untoned

Hunt The Sections
All taken from the above prints - as you can see the texture of the paper has scanned quite well.
Considering the film combo is Tri-X and Rodinal, the grain is pretty incredible.
I love the tones too.

Self Portrait In Dirt #2
Kentmere Fineprint VC Finegrain, Grade 2, Kodak Polymax, plain Fix, Untoned

Again, paper surface has come up well.

Nice Wall
Print 1: Kentmere Fineprint VC Finegrain, Grade 3, Kodak Polymax, plain Fix, Untoned

This is from the bit below the diagonal slashes in the centre white bit

Oh yeah, and they were all taken hand-held, which I suppose tells you the versatility of a TLR in low-light situations. You can brace them pretty well, and the leaf shutters are just perfect.

And that's about it folks - I am chuffed with all these prints, and it just goes to show that with a bit of conscientious application you can please yourself with results that are pretty alright, for really not very much money at all. 

I suppose the term 'junk' was a bit inflamatory, but what I am trying to say is that where there's a will, there's a way. 

Photography is one of the most stupidly expensive hobbies around, but you can produce results with a bit of creative thought and the use of stuff that your more 'advanced' hobbyists wouldn't even sniff at.

The Minolta is a prime example of this - check out the lens 

and tell me you would have given it a chance had you seen it in a dealers . . .

Thanks Minnie - can't wait to take you out for a wander again.

Anyway, enuff zee snuff.

Next time a tale of derring-do, camera lugging and a failed experiment. 

The odds were stacked with me, and I managed to kiss the dice goodbye! 

Take care, God Bless and thanks once again for reading.

Photographing Nothing

Greetings m'Dearios. Well this week we seem to have been a sailin' round in a big circle. 

We set off on Monday with all sorts of waves and well-wishes and we found ourselves back on Friday in the same port with all sorts of puzzled looks and warding.

For 'tis bad luck to return to the port you set off from in the same week.
I have an idea how it happened, and I will blame it on Mog.

That cat.

He'll sleep anywhere, and given we'd been re-caulking a part of the foredeck this week, he managed to get tar on his fur, but, before we had him trimmed, he had a snooze in my cabin, and left some nice tarry marks on me charts.

'Twasn't good though.

I made it onto the dock and was immediately beset by Cap'n Mash.

After our usual sailorly greetings, he took me aside and the following conversation ensued:

'T'isn't right cap'n'

'You're right there Mash.'

He'd found out about Mog

'In my day ship's cats were considered ill-luck when they got tarred.'

'My day too cap'n - we're the same age remember.'

'Oh. Ar. Aye, so we are.'

'You're forgetting yerself there cap'n'

He looked a bit offended.

Anyways after much beard strokin', he said:

'So where are you going to nail it?'

I've risked offending many people before, and I wasn't going to let Mash tell me what to do, so I looked him in the eye and said:

'You've overstepped yersel' there cap'n.'

He took this like a slap with a bowsprit.

'But it is cap'n. Bad luck is what it is. If you don't then I will. That cat'll bring it all down upon us again.'

'Bring what down cap'n?' I asked

He looked at me in a weird way and said in a small voice:

'The Fear, cap'n, The Fear.'

This was mighty strange, but I asked him anyway.

'What fear be that Mash?'

He rubbed at his jowls and took out his cloute and wiped his forehead and looked me straight in the eye and said:

'It.'

This was getting stranger by the minute.

'It what Mash?'

'It!'

Mr.Sheephouse had appeared on deck at this time and was observing us - no doubt he wrote it up in his journals. He was holding Mog in a friendly manner and supportive of the cat's behind, just the proper way you hold a cat.
Mog was watching too.

I didn't know what to say, so I let Mash qualify his statement. He was looking swole now, his face had lost that steely look like he was going to stop me and he had more the appearence of a big babby.

'Haven't ye noticed cap'n? 
No matter where ye go, from the Southern shoals to the Northern rocks. 
From warm water to cold. 
From the lands of the sultry-eyed ladies to the lands of the blubber-eaters.

The sea, cap'n. 

The sea! 
That's The Fear cap'n.
The sea! 

It all be the same!'

We headed out on the next tide and I am happy to report that our charts are now fine.
Mog is sitting watching me write this up. He has a dish o'cream and his favourite catnip mouse.
It takes a lot to change a sailor's mind once he's set on course, but a ship's cat is a capn's best friend.
I've raised Mog since I found him half-drowned in a burlap bag as a kit.
There was no chance of me nailin' him to a mast.
No chance at all.

***

Definition of nothing
[pronoun]
·   not anything; no single thing:
    I said nothing
    there’s nothing you can do
    they found nothing wrong
·   something of no importance or concern:
    ‘What are you laughing at?’ ‘Oh, nothing, sir’
     they are nothing to him
[as noun]:
     no longer could we be treated as nothings
·    (in calculations)
     no amount;
     nought.
[adjective]
[attributive] informal
·     having no prospect of progress; of no value:
      he had a series of nothing jobs
[adverb]
·     not at all:
      a man who cared nothing for her
      he looks nothing like the others
[postpositive]
·     North American informal used to contradict something emphatically:
      ‘This is a surprise.’ ‘Surprise nothing.’

***

You know, looking back over contact prints and boxes of prints I have, I seem to have spent an inordinate amount of money and time and effort on photographing nothing at all.

One generally supposes that a picture needs to have a subject, but as I shall show dear reader my subjects often consist of nothing other than a piece of wall, or fence, or moor, or tree. Nothing you could really call 'subject matter', nothing even that you could really call a snap. So why do I continue on this fool's errand when the world and his brother wants pictures of something?

When I was much much younger and still finding my feet on a fingerboard, my Mother would urge me, even cajole me, to play something with "a tune to it."

At the time, John William's Cavatina was the piece of classical guitar music that everyone wanted to hear, but I simply couldn't play it. I could have made a half-hearted, fumble fingered go at it, but I couldn't just sit down in a room with Mum and Dad, Trevor and Olive, and Arthur and Evelyn and Dolly and Tom and Doug and play it. I could do a passable attempt at the opening bit of the Concerto Aranjuez, or a Chinese-whispers version of Smokestack Lightning, but Cavatina?

No way hose-pipe.

Not a chance.

And I wonder now why I didn't even try to appease them. It would have been simpler, would have won me all sorts of appreciation, maybe even an extra piece of God's own pudding (in case you're wondering, an Apple pie, with shortcrust pastry and a hint of the exotic with cloves added for spice) and custard . . . but I didn't. I prefered instead to mumble and do the hard rasquedo-ey bit from Concerto and that was it. 

I sort of realise now why I was like that - basically, I am stupid.

It manifests itself in many ways, but generally, at the hint of being able to do something that might in the long-run lead onto something, I stand in the corner and just say 'No'.

It has been the same with every single creative endevour I have ever been involved with, and to be honest I find it immensely irritating.

So how does this contrary motion manifest itself photographically?

Well, I must admit that when (and if) in a situation where all comers are photographing the view or whatever interesting is happening, I tend to find myself off in a different direction, or around the corner, or just plain photographing the people doing the photographing. When in landscapes of incredible beauty, I tend not to go for the grand view (though goodness knows I have) but more for the things in that landscape that I find attractive . . . and that is . . . usually . . . what you could call . . . er . . . nothing.

So why bother?

Well I find this a difficult one to quantify.

Apparently John Szarkowski wrote in a forward to one of Ansel Adams’ books, a quote from Fred Astaire in the film Funny Face. Astaire was playing a fashion photographer. Audrey Hepburn’s character asked him, “Why do you photograph beautiful women?” and he said, “Madam, you’d be amazed at how small the demand is for pictures of trees.”

I think that is an interesting quote, because in Mr.Adams' case, pictures of trees and the grand vista were what he made his name with, however my favourite Adams photographs are the ones where people are involved and where the non-obvious is the subject matter.

There is one of walls and buildings from Mexico (where the light is just extraordinary and a dog just pops into the frame and Mr.Adams makes the photograph) that I love very much for the fact that other than the dog appearing at the appropriate moment, there is nothing going on.

But there is also another, a portrait he made on his Zeiss Contax, of Georgia O'Keefe and Orville Cox at the Canyon de Shelly national monument.

I think he out-decisived HCB on this.

From my own point of view, it is full of nothing, and yet it doubtless has something.

Georgia O'Keeffe and Orville Cox, Canyon de Chelly National Monument
©Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust

One wonders what was said, or maybe even un-said. There can be so much read into this seemingly simple photograph, but ultimately it is a photograph of nothing where something is happening.

For my own bizarre ends, you name it I have photographed it, from cigarette stubbers to barren, rock-strewn hillsides, to pictures of mist (taken from inside the mist) to piles of earth and posters and bits of light on walls.

There is never any intended subtext of duality.

They are just plain photographs.

So why do I do it? Is there some sort of attractiveness in my subject matter. Something that might halt a viewer in their tracks and make them say (Hmmmmm . .. I see!) . . Well no not really. A large number of my photographs aren't just as dull as dishwater, they're horrendously boring too. But the thing is, I quite like them. I made them, and even if they are dull to you and you and you, to me they are fine. Not great. Just fine.

I don't make photographs of sports events or society photographs - those tend to be pictures of something. Mine are more like random observations from a chaotic world (isn't that a great book title . . so great I am going to copyright it now):

Random Observations From A Chaotic World ©  Phil Rogers 06/09/2012

There, that's better.

What I think I am trying to say (and regular FB readers will appreciate the fact that every week they're delving into the thought process of a Stromatalite) is that photographic subject matter is obviously entirely a personal choice, but (and here's the kicker) like my refusal to play Cavatina, it doesn't actually have to be of anything at all.

It's a weird way to approach a hobby, but it is my way and unless I change dramatically, I can't really see anything beyond my random collection of images of unremarkable buildings, trees in the middle of nowhere, ephemera and detritus, random mist, forgotten parcels of land and the occasional person passing through the edges of my viewfinder.

A photograph is a photograph is a photograph; be it masterful archival print handled by be-gloved curators in a museum, or a snap permanently pasted in a plastic sleeved album handed round at parties and family get-togethers. From the £20,000 investment on a gallery wall to the plastic-papered object you collect from Tescos, to the thirty billion random examples littering the ether. All photographs. All of them of subject matter that might be something, could possibly even be something, but mostly is nothing.

Hmmmm (rubs beard and re-reads again) this has all gone a bit . . shite. I've got away from what I was trying to say and wandered off again. 

That dear reader is part of how this comes together most weeks. powered by massive mugs of tea my brain slowly grinds into motion, but it doesn't necessarily grind in the direction it was grinding the day before. But please be ensured that, like a fleshy orbital sander, it will eventually get to some obscure point.

Yes, what was I saying.

Why do I do it?

I think it all stems from something Gary Winogrand said when asked why he photographed so much, and his answer was (to paraphrase him) that he photographed to see what the world was like photographed.

There is (strangely) something to this seemingly obtuse, mad and random statement.

Strap on a helmet - he's headed off in a different direction again . .this is the Winogrand by-pass:

Gary snapped away like a good'un; like there was no tomorrow.

On the surface, seemingly endless random shots of people and situations.

Photographs of, really, nothing.

Tiny slices of time, chaotic and juxtaposed. Fleeting moments that would at their time of occurrence have absolutely no meaning at all to their perpetrators. An arm lifted here, a conversation there. A laugh. A burden. A fall. A bag. A coffee. The movements of the world. Bits of time that you would never analyse.

But with crafted observation, transformed into art.

When you view his images there is something that hits you straight in the nose.

He was a humanist.

There is great feeling and warmth deeply inherent in his photographs.

There is pathos and a very refined sense of humour.

They're not gritty in the way a lot of photography of the 60's and 70's was.

They're honest and human, no set-ups, just lightning fast reactions to unfolding situations; anticipation to the Nth degree.

But ultimately photographs of nothing made into something.

Here's a couple of examples - they're mad and funny and strange all at the same time.

The first image is almost like something from a surrealist painting don't you think?

Democratic Convention, LA, 1960
© Winogrand Estate

It's bizarre to think that in photographing nothing: three people, at random, up close (with the incredible fact that none of them seem to be aware of the camera) Mr.Winogrand has, like Mr.Adams, made a photograph into which so much can be read.

My next example from him is probably one of my favourite photographs these days.

Untitled 1977
© Winogrand Estate

Again, a picture of nothing.

A boy and a sheep (?) in what looks like a stock shed, and yet, one wonders what is going on.

My own thoughts are (every time I look at it):

Who is looking after who?

Is that some strange alien and the boy is disgruntled because he is hogging the limelight?

Have they had a fight?

Again in photographing the mundane Mr.Winogrand has provided us with an image which raises more questions than it answers and with the added bonus that we smile and chuckle and then this great photograph is now our new best friend.

I call it genius.

Sadly Gary passed away in the 1980's leaving an archive of tens of thousands of unprocessed rolls of film. One wonders what other gems are in there.

Ok, we've taken a left and now we're back on Sheephouse Drive

At this point in time, I have decided to shamelessly shoehorn some of my own photographic nothings into the proceedings . . . and why not . . . FB is my little kingdom and I can do what I like.

Of course these images are in rather grand company, but I like to think that if either Mr.Winogrand, or Mr.Adams were still alive and came round, we could sit and have some tea and good old chin-wag, so I am sure they won't mind my paltry efforts.

The photos I have included below are essentially images of nothing.

They're random snaps (well the first two are) from random moments of time.

There's nothing going on and there's nothing happening.

The first two were made on holiday with my trusty little Olympus Trip 35:

Mersey Ferry, 2012

                         
      

Yes, that flag is on the Mersey Ferry - I dunno, it just seemed like a nice little bit of Britishness that I rather like - but essentially it is a snap of nothing. I was just wandering around the deck blazing through a roll of film and pretending to look:

a.) Arty

and

b.) Important

Nobody was fooled - my family remained in the cafe area and looked unimpressed.

Two days before we had been a-wanderin' in the rain around the beautiful and lively City of Liverpool, when I spied the next subject.

The man was drunk or homeless or just plain desperate, but his back and the way he moved caught my eye and I had to briefly follow him and make this picture.

I felt (and still feel) sorry for him actually.

He exuded an air of complete lonliness.

It was him versus the world and the world was winning, and it was raining.

I should have bought him a coffee in hindsight, but such was his air that he would probably have told me to shove it.

Man In The Rain, Liverpool, 2012

The third is the most mundane, but it shows how, sometimes, unplanned and strange things can happen.

It was a lengthy set-up involving a 5x4 view camera and a large tripod.

Nominally it is a picture of nothing, that somehow seems to have become a picture of something.

Something weird.

Just why I decided to photograph this clump of trees is totally beyond me.

It took about 20 minutes to set the camera up, a few minutes to sort out the meter readings and make the exposure, a few minutes take-down time; and then of course there's the lugging time, the getting back to the car time; the processing time (one sheet of film at a time) and then the printing time.

A large chunk of my life has been wasted on making an image of absolutely no consequence or worth to anyone . . at least that is what I thought.

However, somehow, light and rocks and leaves and their positioning in the landscape have led me to capture an image of a dead man's face. You can see it quite clearly, near the bole of the left hand trees. He looks like he has been trussed rather in the method of Bronze Age sacrifices, and, putting arms and legs onto everything as usual, I feel that maybe some of the spirit of this quiet clump of forgotten land has manifested itself in a natural apparition.

We are programmed for faces. Just look around you and they are everywhere in the natural world. Strangely, I just seem to have found one in a pile of rocks and leaves, in a public cemetery, early on a May morning.



The Drowned Man, 2010

I could have illustrated this FB with loads more images of total inconsequence, but I have spared you dear reader.

They are dull.

Maybe when we get to know each other better I'll reel them out and await your judgement.

In the meantime, don't fuss over your photographs, just go and take a walk and take a picture of something that you find interesting to look at.

For the sheer hell of it, why not follow Mr.Winogrand and just photograph to see what the world looks like photographed.

It might well be nothing in the eyes of the world, but it will be your something.

God bless, thanks for reading and (as usual) stay dry.