(Elephant Gun) An Interesting Session

Morning . . I know, but it's a metaphorical one, not a literal one.

I am an elephant fan having been raised on a steady diet of Babar and more Babar . . especially that bit in "The Travels Of Babar" where the elephants paint eyes on their bottoms, colour their tails and use wigs on their rear-ends and reverse to the crest of a hill to put the wind up the oncoming rhino army! It's pure gold.

I'd had a number of negatives from April 2016 that I needed to print. I'd sat on them and sat on them and actually wondered when I was going to get a chance. You know how it is - other things get in the way and before you know it time has flown and you're no further forward.

Anyway, frustrated by my lack of photographing in the latter part of last year, I was (over the Festive period) determined to go and see what I could do. 

So, Hasselblad loaded with expired TMY 400 I went out late on one gloomy Monday and came home with an elephant. Now this wasn't in the slightest apparent to me at the time. It was only when I made the prints that it struck me.

More of that in a minute, but firstly back to the negatives from April. As mentioned in FB from last year I'd had the opportunity to photograph at a place I knew very well. It was a childhood playground and exceptionally dangerous, being as it is, a crumbling 15th Century Tower. 

Health and safety would have kittens these days - but back in the early '70's Steve crawled into long lost barrel-vaulted cellars, accessible from a wriggle through old grass and a tiny gap in the masonry, and together we part-climbed the crumbling stonework and just generally footered around. 

In the 1990's when my Mum was still alive, we climbed the 'renovation' and had a lovely flask of coffee and some sandwiches looking out from our vantage point over a part of forgotten Scotland.

These days however it is fenced off all around and literally falling apart thanks in part to the over-use of CEMENT to patch a place that would only have ever known LIME.

(S'cuse me whilst I get my Hi-Viz jacket on)

Lime is a sacrificial binding material and allows movement of the substrate and the passage of moisture and frost and time through masonry; cement is a solid lump of impermeability - fine and solid yes, and initially maybe it looks like the perfect answer, but when frost gets in behind it, the original stonework "blows" and so starts the slide into oblivion. 

It's definitely not the sort of thing you'd use on ancient stonework - just ask Historic Scotland.

It was this (albeit well-intentioned) use of cement that has caused the Tower to age quicker in the past 30 years than it ever did in the previous 300.

I'm not even a builder, but you just have to read about it, and before you know it you can see how totally wrong it is.

Anyway, surrounding the Tower is a wonderful Oak wood - it is quite small, but some of the Oaks are around 500 years old, so entirely comensurate with the age of the Tower. 

I've walked through this wood my whole life from the age of 7-ish and I love it deeply, as one can only love the familiar landscape of one's childhood.

I've only partially photographed it before, and then not seriously and have always wanted to go back with the skill and the gear to do it justice . . and . . . I'm still not there.

How does one capture atmosphere?

Especially an atmosphere leaden with history, dark deeds and a slumbering peace bought by blood and death?

Damn near impossible if you ask me.

You'll see what I mean from the following:

Wilderness Garden
This incredible, dense patch of wildwoodedness grows on the site of formal 17th Century gardens

View From The Motte
The stonework you see is the 'refurbishment' - it is all falling apart now.

I think, in reviewing them, I need to go back again (what an excuse) and expose more than 1 roll.
On that day we were there, we were beset with cloud and snow showers and a rare glimpse of sun  - the below shows the view from the car whilst a shower was on. The snow isn't apparent as it wasn't lying, but it was baltic. The 'flare' is actually a sleet shower passing through.

I was desperate to capture the feel of the place, but have failed I think. 

Never mind eh!

Also. and it has taken me a while to realise this, the Distagon is very prone to flare. I have the correct Hasselblad hood for it and use it all the time, but if you look at the second print, the flare is obvious as 'sun spots' - pentagon-shaped grey smudges. I was shooting into the light there, but I need to be more careful.

The prints were my usual Adox Vario Classic (until I get it finished). Grade 3 to compensate for its age. The negs were Pyrocatted. Meow, Yeow, Mo-o-o-o-w!

And forward 8 months - that time machine is amazing, but it needs new mud-flaps.

Anyway, here's a tip. Unless you are feeling REALLY inspired, think twice about loading your camera late on a Winter's afternoon and going and seeing what you can find with not a lot of time to spare till it gets dark.

You'll come home with mostly shit. 

Well that's what happened to me - basically it was too late out, too little time to execute things, and my eyes and compositional nuance had decided they were going off on holiday to some sunny spot . . at least that is my excuse.

They were a dreadfully disappointing bunch. Film was expired TMX 400 and developer, W-o-o-o-o-W, Yowl . . you've got it.

Weird Day
DOJCA Architecture Building Front Door (And Me)
This would look a thousand times better if the door wasn't double-glazed.

Elephant?

You see what I mean? 

This was round the back of the Art College, just step over the nearly new Marrut film drier, now on its side and in the rain (honest) and slide in beside the knackered and thrown out print cabinets. See that grey/white object on the right? Darkroom sink - decent condition. 

I fecking hate what they've done to photography at Duncan Of Jordanstone - Joe would be turning in his grave.

Anyway, I was unaware of capturing an elephant until I started printing. 

When I saw it, it was just a bit of fake nylon fur draped over a table and that's sort of how it looked on the contact too.. 

I could probably selectively bleach the 'eye' and the highlights on the fur just to make it more obvious. And look, there on the fur, another flarey grey smudge, courtesy of the light at the top of the frame. 

Och well, them's the breaks - it's not every day you get to "shoot" an elephant though is it?

And that's it again folks.

Printing is fun - I urge you all to do it, even if it is making contacts from 35mm film onto tiny bits of paper. You have to do it if you call yourself a photographer - it's the whole point!

TTFN - and remember, if Noddy had paid the ransom, the elephants wouldn't still have Big Ears.

Small Finds And Bigger Questions

I've waxed long about the influence and guiding a certain Mr. Joseph McKenzie had on me choosing to 'do' photography, but I'll take this opportunity to describe it in a bit more detail (if you can be bothered reading) and further what I might have gleaned from the whole thing.

This might well seem rather narcissistic, but you know, it's not every day that one can say that they've stumbled upon some gold is it? 

Well, I wouldn't call this stumbling, but I would say that it was an interesting re-find. You see, all those (36!) years ago, when it got wrapped up into a square of mucho-mucho-acidic paper towel, I think I did have some realisation of its worth. Nowadays, given that Joe died a couple of years back, it's worth is far more.

You see, I have a genuine Joe McKenzie negative. 

Of me. 

But then everyone had them - all my compadres on that "Introduction To Photography" course in those far-gone days were given their negatives too. 

I've often wondered what happened to them? 

Are they still wrapped in bits of acidic paper towel and tucked away somewhere never to see the light of day? 

Have they gone to the landfill of life?

Me? 

Oh yes, as I said, I still have mine - but how many can still say that? 

So a genuine Joe McKenzie negative - given that he is only now being lauded as the "Father Of Modern Scottish Photography", what's it worth in real terms? He's left one of the largest and most complete archives of any photographer, so is it just another bit of stuff to add to the pile, and, interestingly, is it a McKenzie?

Y'see, whilst it is of me, and whilst Joe pressed the cable release, and relaxed the sitter in front of a room full of other students, the man who set up the lights, the camera, the tripod and processed the film, was Sandy, Joe's erstwhile darkroom assistant. 

So at the end of the day, whose negative is it? 

It is an interesting question isn't it. 

Where does the technician begin and end, and where does the photographer start?

This negative, well, it's a bit of a dog's dinner from the moralistic point of view isn't it.

A mongrel negative as it were . . .

Ruff Ruff Ruff!!!

So, that's the introduction, and here's the offending article - what do you reckon - half sloth, half dachsund?

Like I've said, it was a re-find. 

I'd filed that scabby bit of paper towel in an old colour print envelope alongside some baby negatives of myself that I'd found many many centuries ago, and about 10 years back re-found it and filed it away in some lovely archival negative sleeves.

I knew I'd print it one day, and thought that a very (as in last month) recent negative of gnarly olde photo-bod me, would contrast nicely with smooth, baby-faced, innocent me.

So what's the relevance then Sheepy? Where are you going with all this guff?

Well, interesting turn of phrase, but a good question - y'see, I don't think I'd ever have dreamed when I signed up for Joe's course, that:

A. -  I'd find it as darn interesting and absorbing as I did.

and

B. - That I'd still be pursuing 'analog' (sic) excellence a whole lifetime later.

I've grown from those seeds that were sown on that afternoon. 

Joe became a sort of friend at college, and I might not have seen him in the 25-odd years until he died (indeed the last time I did see him it was a flurry of Happy Huzzah's and a well-wishing for having started fulltime employment) but I still feel that friendship counted. 

I never waxed mournfully when he died - Joe's staunch Catholicism was enough to render such words as meaningless - and I've never gone on about 'us', but I can still hear his ascerbic (but truthful) and humorous comments about life and the establishment and power; photography and music and poetry.

And I didn't attend his funeral either. I dislike such things, but I like to think in some small way he would have understood.

You see, we got on him and I for all we were as alike as chalk and cheese; he admired my abilities as a 'proto-musician' (sic) and I admired his abilities as a humanist and educator and photographer.

And seriously, sometimes, just sometimes, when I am in the dark and printing, I can sense (call me fanciful if you like) his presence, and that's maybe just down to my choices and my approach which largely mirrors his own -after all it isn't every day that you get to spend a huge amount of time learning from a Master Craftsman is it?
But that's what I did.
And I know! - I was incredibly lucky.

I guess what I am trying to say, is that one man's kindness and advice and care (and he was a big-hearted man - acutely aware of all the waifs and strays [students] that came under his tutorage) can influence one in ways not obvious at the time. 

Be careful with your life-choices - they can fly like cheerful sparrows or fall like rain. 

Joe was kind; he was a good man who believed in helping to elevate people.

And I guess, that whilst FB isn't an all singing and dancing 'do this, then do that' photoblog, some of his good will, giving and influence has worked away at me and I find I really enjoy putting nuggets of practical advice in amongst the shite and whether anyone gains anything from them or not, they're still, to quote Harry "Out There". . .

So, 36 years on - what now? Well, I print better nowadays and I can certainly take a better photograph . . . but I still would love to have the lustrous hair and un-lined fizog that I had then.

What am I talking about?

Erm, this:

Sarge, it's a . . it's a . . .

OK - stop tittering at the back. 

Of course it's A BLOKE. it's just that he looks a bit, how shall we say, feminine.
Those were the days when I was wearing Boots grey/black eye-shadow (for the Pete Way, solid and steaming chic look). My hair hadn't really been chopped since the Paul Weller incident, and indeed that was the start of my whole DIY haircut ethic.

Being objective now, I would say I look like a member of Girlschool (the NWOBHM band) circa 1980 . .

This was taken in 1981, and I was not quite 20 years old.

The flash was snooted and it was taken in one of the studios on the ground floor of DOJCA.

The thing I have really noticed is the quality of the image.
The film is Tri-X (Kodak 6043) developed in D76.

The camera?
Ah yes . . the leatherette house-brick with a lens - a Mamiya C330F with a bog standard 80mm.

Nuthin' fancy I think is what they say, but the quality?
Sterling.
We used Mamiyas for all MF work - I well remember the rut in my shoulder from carrying a canvas Nikon bag laden with a C330F - they were sturdy and almost unbreakable though, so that was why they were chosen. And like I say, nothing wrong with the quality of image at all.

Anyway, bring on the FFD button, 'cause we're scooting to the 21st Century.

The Nut In The Yard - Semi-Self Portrait With Rollei.

Yes, I know, it is hardly flattering, but that was a 4 second exposure in a gloomy twilight. it was taken in my backyard with the Hasselblad and 60mm Distagon (hence the massive legs!).
I had one frame left after all those chair pictures and I was determined to use it, so it was in, and out with the Gitzo, a rough squint at the focus screen, and a quick meter reading. I placed the exposure on Zone VI (for white skin) and for reciprocity added a couple of seconds and got 4 seconds at f5.6.
I then went and grabbed the Rollei, got a stick, beat Alec Turnips out of his room, screwed the cable release into the socket, pressed the mirror-lock-up lever and told him what to do.
The reason I look manic is because I was determined to be still for 4 seconds.
It sort of worked.
Quite a contrast to the preceding photograph though.
Ali says I look so much like my Mum it is unreal(ly weird).

Anyway, it was developed in Pyrocat 1+1+100 and printed on some ancient Fotospeed RC, as was the previous portrait.

Portraits are funny things, being formalised slices of time when done like this. You're not quite sure what will turn out. 

In Joe/Sandy's I can see a quiet lad from a rural background just moved (again) to the big smoke and maybe hopeful of pursuing an artistically satisfying course in life. 

In mine, I see a bit of a nut - 30 years of 9-5 but not having to have made any living at all from following artistic endevours. I can be creative me without thinking about the bottom-line and even though it's never got me anywhere, I can publish FB with impertitude and am FREE TO BE ME. 

Snap, print, write, strum, draw, whatever. 

Jack Of All Trades. 

Of course a supportive family helps and I have mine - Ali has been a solid and inspirational source and has never once questioned my pursuing of artistic endevours, no matter how seemingly trite, or flighty and inconsequential they are. 

You can't say fairer than that can you?

So, that's this bunch of narcissism over and done with - I had to get it up here though - like I say, that negative raises some interesting moral questions, and, like I said, it's not every day one can say one owns a negative made by a legend is it?

There'll be less navel-gazing next time - not sure what it'll be about, but I'll try and make it a bit more interesting

TTFN and remember to ask yer Mum how many beans make five.

(Bean-And-A-Half, Bean-And-A-Half, Half-A-Bean, Bean-And-A-Half.)

Dark Weather And Darker Deeds

Morning folks and a Happy New Ear to all of you - goodness knows I could do with a couple - age is proving to be a pain as my upper levels of hearing are fading - damn good job I didn't get myself into hock with that Stax Ear-Speaker set I was hankering after!

At least for the time being I can still see, though to be honest, in Scotland in the Winter all you can see seems to emerge out of a fug of gloom - it's tripod weather most of the time, but you know what, what did I say to that concept in a recent Hasselblad outing? Bollocks! that's what I said.
Oh yes, tripods are cold and cumbersome and rather marvellous, but, when all you want to do is get out and use a roll of film . . ahem . . the first roll since June . . well, you'll understand why I said Bollocks.

OK, so I've waxed long and lengthy about the 60mm Distagon and how much I like it, but, till now, all I've done with it is use it quite well stopped down, erm . .
"just so's everything can be nice and sharp" 
and what did I say to that concept on a recent Hasselblad outing?
Yep, you guessed it . . Bollocks!

You see, what I didn't fully understand with a Zeiss/Hasselblad lens is this . . apart from the fact that they never were cheap, that mucho-expensiveness was there for a reason.

Quality of image.
They are stellar optical performers at all apertures and this seems to be par for the course across most of the lenses (of all ages).
Yes I know the pre-FLE 50mm and 40mm's get a bum-rap some times, but I do wonder how much of that is down to operator error.

From my own point of view, I gave myself a bloody good kicking, and, shock, exposed most of my frames at f3.5, f4 and f5.6.
This was really hard for me to do.
It went against everything I know and I think that is visual immaturity on my behalf and it has taken me this long to realise it is such.
But don't get me wrong, I am certainly not one of those
"Oh GOD, the bokeh at f1.4, Jings it's gnarly and fizzy, but look at that central sharpness"
type of bods.
In this recent expedition, light and only light dictated my choices.

The Hasselblad has a large whackety-thwack mirror.
I'd said Bollocks to the tripod and I'd misplaced the Leitz TTT as back-up, so that was out too.
I had an endlessly gloomy day to enjoy.
It was approaching 3 in the afternoon . . . batten down the hatches time in Scotland in the Winter . . . 
I was using expired (06/2015) TMY 400 at EI 200 (a speed dictated by the use of Pyrocat-HD) .

So what could I do apart from balance shutter speed against possible shake?
The olde dictum of try not to use a speed lower than your focal length in low light was being shouted loud in my head, so, ergo, this dictated that the speed of my lens ruled the day.
F3.5?
It's hardly a high-speed lens is it?
I was super-careful in the way I held the camera - in fact the olde CCS bag balanced against my hip and the Hasselblad rested on top at times, softlee softlee catchee monkee . . .
And you know what, I think it worked - see what you think.

Expired TMY 400 - EI 200
Pyrocat-HD - 19 minutes 1+1+100, 20° C
Constant agitation first minute, then 2 inversions every minute to 17 minutes.
Stand development for an extra 2 mins to 19 minutes. 

1/60th, f4

1/60th, f3.5

1/30th, f4

1/15th, f4

You might be able to see that the daylight was sundering.
In the last frame, that's the sun just about gone over the Tay. It was a proper gloaming.
You can really see the plane of focus from the lens can't you - I have tried to get that happening in photographs before, but with little success - thankfully I have now found a friend in the Distagon that can show this peculiar effect well.

Amazingly to me, these are all straight prints onto some ancient Adox Vario Classic.
I've used filtering to bring them up to a Grade 3 equivalent (with the Adox, 30 Y in Kodak Units) simply because the paper is about 8 years old.
The really weird thing I have found with Pyrocat is that you can also print negatives from different films at the same time and aperture on the same paper.
In this case it is a straight 16 seconds at f22 using my Vivitar lens and this enlarger height which will provide me with a print with a 1.5cm border on 8x10" paper, so image size with rebate is 17cm square.

I've used a little tom-foolery in an extra 10 seconds burning here and there just to even up the edges a bit, but you could get away with just doing the 16 seconds.

They were developed in the under-appreciated Fotospeed PD 5 developer and stopped in Kodak Indicator and fixed in Fotospeed FX 20 Fix.

I've found this technique of consistent print timing/aperture also applies to other developers too, it's just getting your consistency of prcessing right. And I still wonder why people are prepared to spend half their lives banging on about split-grade printing when in reality it seems like an unneccesary bit of darkroom dark-artism (Hand me my cape serf, I am going to dazzle the populace!)

I think they've worked out fine and I would be happy to display any of them - it still surprises me what I can do with my make-shift darkroom.



Well, I've done this before, published the photographs, ended it and left you at the garden gate as it were with a bag full of petit-fours and the promise of a 'till next time' . . . . but this time I thought I'd make it possibly a bit more interesting by throwing in some back-up.
Oh yes, courtesy of a newly inherited ancient Ye PiePhone and a couple from my Sony, in the words of the great Jimmy Shand:

"Welcome to ma hoose, the drinks are o'er there!"

Yep, you've spotted it . . . this isn't the darkroom, but it is the place I do all my roll tank processing - it's my kitchen sink!
Nothing fancy, water from tap, thermometer (food grade!) for checking temps - they'll usually vary by a degree or two, or four (in the Winter) but it doesn't seem to make that much difference so long as you are above 20° C. The grey tub is an old washing up bowl - it is British made and has been a sturdy and reliable companion for years and years.

Ye ancient B&Q sink

Ye anxient washing-up bowl

So, after the film is processed and dried and wee contact has been made, we're all ready for some printing.
You've seen pictures of it before, but here is the maw of creativity after a recent tidy-up . . not much different!

Incredibly, this WAS after a tidy-up.
As you can see I really do have little space - I can print 9.5x12" but it isn't easy.

Hit the deck.
The cabinet holds my paper and paper safe.
That's the Patterson washer, and yes, two crates.
They've got beer in them and are actually quite valuable now!
You step down to the stone flags.

DeVere 504.
It's mounted on a piece of worktop on a kitchen cabinet which is on its side!
Like I said, space is at a premium.

OK, the flash went off . . . badly.
It is worth noting the Astrid Ioniser on top of the DeVere.
I don't know how you manage to print without an ioniser - it keeps dust and static down to an absolute minimum.
That's the DeVere switching unit and timer to the side. The timer is mechanical and totally accurate.

Ok, well that's my prayer-space - you know I kneel don't you, to print that is .  .  .

Jeez - who let the gnome in.
I am kneeling here, though it isn't obvious

Grist for the mill.

I've never shown these horrid, make-shift printing dark arts before, but needs must and all that.

The simplest most faff-free method I know for removing dust prior to printing.
Hold your fingers like scissors and lightly draw the negative through.
It shouldn't work but it does.
Got it from watching the person who prints H C-B's archive prints.

This horrible looking thing is the DeVere negative carrier.
The top aperture is for 5x4" negatives.
The lower plate is the metal 6x9cm carrier.
I've then taped the lower glass from a Meopta 6x9 glass carrier to that permanently.
And then hinged the Anti-Newton glass upper part above.
The negative sits between those

Negative ready to go.
It's flatter than a roadkill hedgehog.
No kinking or popping.
A light wipe with my index finger removes any dust that might have settled.
I haven't had to spot a print in years.

Ah, that's better - ready, set, GO!

I just like this.
The DeVere looks like some sentient being from a 1980's Dario D'Argento film.

And then the aftermath

The un-glam side of printing . . . washing them!

That's our bath - it might not look it, but it's bloody enormous.
The thing with the hose is my ancient and not brilliant Paterson print washer - it is a tempremental thing, but it does work in its own way and was by far the cheapest print-washer I could find when I needed one . . . £20.
The trays were for toning, but I discovered I had no selenium mixed and time was mucho-short, so I didn't bother. Toning can be done easily after the event (with a dried print and to no detriment - you just need to soak it first) if you can be bothered.
Prints were dried pegged (plastic, not wooden . . wooden mark prints badly and can become contaminated if you've not washed properly) from an old clothes line that hangs in the darkroom.

And that's it really.
It never ceases to amaze me that I can produce a piece of (Ph . . silent) 'Art' with such a basic set-up and that it'll outlast me unless someone chucks it in a skip.

The finished article.
Ignore the woodchip and marvel instead at the Leica Handbook!
The print has been squashed under a pile of books for a couple of days.
Omar Ozenir has a great method of drying which I might mention at some point - his prints are dead flat and put mine to shame.

And that's all folks - hope you enjoyed it!
Remember, if you keep picking that scab, it'll never heal.

Tales From The River Bank

Sadly not a FB devoted to the children's programme that probably no one remembers . . . ah where are you Hammy Hamster when the world needs your brand of innocence!

 . . . but a FB devoted entirely to photographing a tidal estuary shore! 

Oh yes, pure excitement here at FB towers!

Well, I suppose it was exciting actually - 7am on an Autumn morning with a guarantee of low tide and nothing but a tripod, a Hasselblad 500C/M with 60mm Distagon and a pair of wellies.

It's alright, don't panic . . . the oxygen tent will be here in a minute!

I've timed myself on these sort of expeditions before and they take me approximately 2 hours. Now this is sort of strange - that is per roll of 120 - so either my body has found a natural rhythm to making photographs with MF or else I am thinking far too much into it - whatever, 2 hours it took and actually, very pleasant it was given that I was downstream from Newport's sewerage outlet!
The pipe is a wonderful, seaweed covered, ceramic job and wends its way far out into the Tay. You can see it in Frame 11 (middle frame, far right) on the contact sheet below. Fortunately I was not troubled by the usual sewerage effluent that can beset many tidal shores downstream of such things, and actually, very clean is how I would describe it. Not that I'd want to eat my tea off of it, but it was smell and debris free and the massed banks of bladderwrack were very fresh looking and rather healthy.

So, you're asking why Sheephouse?
WHY?

Why did I want to do it?
Well, I've been there before at high tide and the place was intriguing - it's a small area of intensely wooded, shallow cliff, heading eastward from the Fife end of the bridge, and I dunno, it just made me itch in a photographic way, so much so that I awoke from a pleasant Wiessbier/Woods Rum induced slumber and hauled my weary bones out into the pre-dawn light.
Oh yes, you've got to up and at 'em when the feeling calls!

I have been deeply aware all Summer, that I have barely used my newly acquired 500C/M and I felt ashamed of that - it is a first class tool and should be used all the time - that thought was a goad in my side.

I was also aware that I have a Scottish Photographers meeting coming up in December and I needed some material for that . . . and also, I wanted to make some pictures!

So, wellies on, everything readied, off I went!
Just a quick check though . . . are you wearing yours too? Those deck shoes are going to get awful messy if you aren't light-footed . . .

Onwards.

Obviously you have to be careful in such places - I had no wish of just being a Hasselblad raised high on a quickly sinking tripod above the incoming tide with me being sucked down first by soft mud, so it was easy-does-it and careful treading and testing some areas that looked dodgy just to be sure.

Exploring small areas like this in this way can be rewarding - I can't have walked more than about 300 yards beyond the point where I climbed down - and seeing as there was plenty to see, time seemed to stop and all there was, was me and my camera and the river . . . oh, and The Bridge as well - it is enormous from this side of the river, towering over you on massive concrete pillars but despite the early morning noise from cars and more cars, it was relatively quiet where I was.

I don't know if you find photographing therapeutic, but I do. Away from the demands and noisome mess of modern life and in such unlikely places as I try to find, you can just take your time and concentrate on the task at hand  - it's a form of meditation to me.

If you find it the same I'd love to hear what you have to say!

I used the Hasselblad mounted on my ancient Gitzo the whole time - I also used my small Giottos ballhead, which was tbh barely adequate and I had a few massive camera flops, which isn't the sort of thing you want to happen. I was also lucky it was quite still, as I fear the camera would have vibrated on the Giottos like a pair of flimsies on a washing line. To maximise me chances of sharpness on such a precarious set-up, I used mirror lock up and a small wait of time and then a cable release for each exposure - it would have been foolish not to. This being said, I still don't think I have extracted the maximum detail from the lens, but then I should have used a sturdier head (more on this in an upcoming FB - "Kenny Jazz And The Ballheads").
But the deed is done now, so scroll down a bit and have a gander.

Now I realise that when you look at the contact below you're going to say
"Hmmm - he could have exposed those better"
Well granted I probably could, but I've done years of trying to get the 'perfect' negative and to be honest, I am not sure there is such a thing - these days, my processing regime is very very simple - using the Rodinal replacement R09, I process to the times detailed on the side of the bottle! There, that was easy wasn't it! My old Agfa Rodinal leaflet ties in almost exactly with the bottle times and seeing as I have had some nice looking negatives from said times, I see little reason to change.
My only caveat to this is that I will down-rate every film.

In this case it was FP4 and I exposed it at EI 80.

Why?

Well I always felt that when I used box speed, my negatives were OK in a sort of dull, 'OK' way, but they had no oomph or guts, down-rating just gives that extra edge of over-exposure, and unless you are really really careless or shooting in vastly contrasting conditions on the same roll, the film's latitude (it's ability to deal with differing light) is generally able to take care of things (in other words your shortcomings as a photographer!).

So whilst the contact below has washed out skies, in reality, the information is there, it just needs slightly more careful handling in the printing stage.
Remember a contact is just really a visual check to give you an idea of what you have - it also has to balance any differences in the negatives and actually for such a seemingly simple thing, making a good contact is surprisingly hard to do - in fact I don't think I have ever made a perfect one.

The general concensus seems to be 'minimum time for maximum black' and I'll say I try and adhere to that.

There's a very good article on contacts and the 'un-zone' system on the late, great Barry Thornton's site - you can read it here

Anyway, if you can be bothered looking at the contact, you'll see the start (bottom left) and the end (top right) of my little adventure.
OK, it's a bit squinty/wonky but we're friends here - what's a little wonkiness between friends eh?

Contact Sheet 

Right, so now we've got some pictures!
As I said before the processing regime was simple (more of that in a minute) but so was the exposure regime.
You know that saying 'a little knowledge is a dangerous thing'?
Well yes, and no, it is and it isn't.
I've studied and applied the Zone system to my LF work and everything else too, and after years of following Bruce Barnbaum's "Ansel was wrong, expose shadows on Zone IV" methodology, you know what . . . I now expose shadows on Zone III.

WTF Sheepy?

OK,

a brief excursion into simple metering.

Your meter. Yes, yours.
It is your friend, but it is still going to average out that scene for you!
Multi-matrix, centre-weighted, spot, whatever you're still getting an average reading that will give you an average exposure that works really well with colour materials.
It is designed to ensure that you (stupid human) at least come home with something and that something is a Zone V exposure.
Average.
Balanced Colour.
In Black and White terms - Mid-Grey. 18%.
An average rendering of the scene, and there's nothing wrong with that.
But in monochrome (our concern here - these are B&W photographs after all and FB is primarily monochrome-based) we don't necessarily want an average grey picture.
Strange as it seems, but this is a common mistake with people taking B&W photographs. Yes, even in a world filled with helpful photographers and more articles on the subject online than you could comfortably read in a lifetime, this mistake is perpetuated.

Just about every online gallery I have seen is filled with mid-grey exposures.

But wait a minute - This is monochrome.

It is an infinitely expressive medium.

We want to jazz it up a bit.
You need to play with the light, adjust it to suit your vision of what you see in front of you. You can make a photograph where everything is visible and rendered clearly; where ever single nuance of light is captured in grey, but what you want is a bit of drama, some light, some shade and some total black, or pure paper white.

Hence the Zone III shadow.

It's simple to understand - if you're using a hand-held meter move it around the darker area of the scene you want to photograph; if it is an in camera meter, sway that camera around like a hypnotised cobra . . there, that's better. Got the lowest reading you can get?

Good.

Now if you were to photograph that dark bit at the exposure your meter is suggesting, you'll end up with grey, not lovely, all-encompassing, luscious darkness, nope, just grey . . . mud. Folks that is Zone V.

Mid.

Average.

Mud.

OK, in Roman numerals V=5, so III = (er)3!

So to achieve a Zone III exposure, you're going to underexpose your scene by 2 Zones (1 Zone = 1 Stop as per standard shutter speed/f-stop marking).
So if say your meter reading was 1/30th of a second at f16 (and you want to keep the depth of field that f16 brings) then your exposure is going to be 1/125th at f16 - you've lost two stops of light and the lovely black shadowy-bit is rendered more akin to how it looks and not an 'orrible muddy grey.

And that is an incredibly simplified bit of Zone-systeming that works for me.

If you now process at your chosen film developer's recommended timings, you should get some negatives that are pretty alright.
Obviously I've not gone into the Zoney/Wonderful World of Expansion and Contraction of negatives by development, because I don't feel it is applicable to this .  . so there.
So your negatives are pretty alright, and of course, sometimes, things will go wrong (and you'll end up with all sorts of 'orrible images) but mostly they won't. You would be amazed at how much a film's latitude can deal with things - I've exposed rolls and rolls at guessed exposures in all sorts of conditions and on the whole they've worked out fine.  
The only cardinal sin is underexposure, hence it is always a good idea to downrate the speed of your film - it just gives that little leeway
It's like a Lazarus moment though, is guessing exposure - your crutch is cast aside and you can walk!
You see it can be very easy to get sucked into the drive for perfection, metering everything so carefully, so much so that you miss the whole point (which is to make images which are enjoyable to look at) and not to mention missing the light and the moment too!
Remember the greatest landscape photograph ever made (just about) Ansel Adam's Moonlight Over Hernandez was a guessed exposure by a master who knew exactly what he was looking at and the luminence values of everything.
Anyway, all this is besides the point, so onwards.

Ooops - OK - I did mention processing, so here goes:

For this roll of FP4 rated at EI 80, I used 1+50 Rodinal (R09) at 20 C. I gave one minute of constant agitation and then one inversion every 30 seconds . . for 18 minutes!!!
Yep - it has imparted an edge of contrast to things, but to my advantage I think - especially the picture of the bladderwrack - the slight over-development coupled with a slight error in exposure (oh alright then, under-exposure) has imparted a 'vintage' air to it which I find very pleasing . . . and the detail is extraordinary . .
But anyway, where were we - oh yeah - Agitation - again a seemingly simple thing that can go horribly wrong.
Most people think it is OK to chuck the developer in and slosh it around like they're mixing cocktails.

The Young Photographer's Guide To Home Developing - Page 34

NOPE!

STOP!!

ABSOLUTELY NOT

Agitation is a gentle, lovingly tender operation. It has to be done calmly AND GENTLY.

Did I mention GENTLY?

To get all metaphysical, in making good wine you don't chuck it all in a cement mixer, slosh it around, ferment it in a fervour and expect it to come out feeling nice and fresh and treated with respect do you? 

No, it takes time and care, and it is the same with film. 

Treat it with respect, like you would your loved one.
Really - you think I am exaggerating, but I am not - certainly with a developer like Rodinal (and its derivatives) and even the various dilutions of good old HC 110 and D76, it really pays to agitate as gently as possible. And I can't emphasise that enough - if you chuck in the developer and slosh you'll end-up with negatives that are so hard they could penetrate Batfink's wings. So one gentle (and slow) tilt (tank upside down and back to normal) per recommended inversion. You'll thank me for it.

OK, so after I got the negatives, what did I want to do? Yep . . . I wanted to print them too!
I love printing - it is one entire half of the photographic process, and is so sorely neglected these days . . . well, don't get me going. It is not easy setting up a darkroom though and I understand people don't have space etc etc, but you kind of owe it to yourself as a photographer to try and do something, even if it is just contact prints off a 6x6cm negative with the paper being exposed by a baffled torch.
Anyway, Paper.
It was 10 year old Agfa Multi-Contrast Classic - yep, ancient and as such it all has to be printed at the equivalent of Grade 4 - anything less than that old 100 units of Magenta just doesn't cut through the inherent base-fog of a paper that age. And you will get base-fog on something very old and especially Multigrade. For some reason, Graded paper seems to hang on much better . . . so look, I've saved you time and effort already - got old MG paper? Expose it on the highest Grade it can deal with and take it from there.

OK, session over. It took me about 2 hours to produce 6 prints, of which the best are above. With my current developing/paper/chemicals/printing regime (and at the same height on the enlarger for 10x8 paper) I seem to have hit a magical exposure time of 16 seconds at f22, using my 100mm Vivitar lens. What you see above are pretty much straight prints. 

No split grade or any form of trickery. 

Just neat (ish).

Oh alright then . . . I will admit to having cheated a tad on these with just the merest tickle of PotFerry bleaching too, just to up the ante - and it worked. 

I immerse the print in a weak solution till it looks about right, take it out and wash under running water then store in a clean tray of water till I am ready for the next step - Selenium Toning. Again the same procedure and then it is a quick blast in rapid fixer and then another quick blast with Kodak Hypoclear and into the wash tank for a couple of hours. 

The prints are then air-dried (suspended by plastic clothes pegs [not wooden - they adhere to the surface]) and filed away in archival sheets in an archival box for doomsday until they meet the great skip at the end of the line . . .

Such is life.

I love these prints though and the last is my favourite - I think it has that old-skool tonality I love in the work of Adams and Bullock and to aspire to the work of those masters isn't a bad thing methinks..

So there y'go folks, from field to plate, an analysis of what this particular photographer does to while away the time on some weekends.

Hope you enjoyed it.

TTFN.

 

Stepford City (On With The Future)

Boredom Police Intervention:

There was far too much navel-gazing shite - we've removed it. This is by far his worst read Blog post you know - only 18 readers in over a week, so we've cut the fluff and on with the show.

Now this is a statement of fact, but (whisper it) there's someone works for Dundee City Council Graphics Department, who is fond of big heads.  

Honest - it sounds bizarre doesn't it, but it is true.

For years they've appeared on hoardings and advertising for the Council and to be honest, they're utterly surreal. 

Strange thing is, they look kind of ordinary too, melding into the general scene so you're not really aware of them too much. This was certainly the case with me, but when I started looking at them properly, I found them hilarious, sadly missing out on many generations of different heads through sheer lack of observancy.

Anyway, here's a semi-recent one from the Seabraes; a slowly changing white elephant area with a modern "wtf-does that mean?" subtitle of "Digital Hub". It occupies an area that used to be a maze of tenements, railway lines and coal yards (long since demolished and dug-up).

This particular Big Head was (for a while) the thrusting modern face of Digital Dundee advertising "Dundee's Creative Media District" but sadly he became a magnet for vandals and was eventually almost entirely defaced by very very very tall graffiti artists and was then, two Winter's back, wrenched free by a powerful storm.

I found half his face in some bushes afterwards - he'd landed safely, in between some lovingly coiled dog muck.

The Man From Seabraes Yards
(Nikon F2, 35mm F2 Nikkor)

The Man From Seabraes Yards
(Wista DX, 203mm Ektar)

The Other Side Of The Man From Seabraes Yards
[This Is The Rear Side Of The Hoarding]
(Leica M2, 50mm Elmar)

The Skeleton Of The Man From Seabraes Yards
[After He Was Wrenched Free, This Earlier Poster Was Underneath]
 (Leica M2, Canon 50mm)

Death Of The Man From Seabraes Yards
(Koni Omega Rapid, 90mm Super Omegon)

I suppose I developed a relationship with this stupid hoarding because it was so interesting. and now he's been replaced by a very nice bridge!
He used to occupy the space where the crane is to the right of the picture below.

Seabraes Bridge, Dundee

And this is the completed bridge - its made quite a difference to a hard-to-get-to area, but I still miss The Man.

Seabraes Bridge Completed

Anyway, On With The Future.

The photographs below are all courtesy of the Council Graphics Department (God Bless 'Em!). They are so Stepford Wives like in their plasticity and sinister falseness I had to photograph them. 

Luckily they're getting quite vandalised now, so I can see this as an on-going thing till the new hotel (!) and station (!!) is built.

They were made with the 500Cm and the 60mm CB Distagon - quite the most remarkable lens I have ever used. They're real prints too - printed at Grade 4 on ancient Agfa MCC paper. Developer was Fotospeed which does a great job, and they were archivally processed and given a final toning in Selenium for good measure.

Sadly the scanning has washed them out a bit, but the full nuance of greys are there in the originals . . you'll just have to pop around and see them . . . remember to bring some biscuits.

I'll say TTFN now, simply because Blogger won't let me add any more text at the bottom of the page . . . TTFN.

"I Love It Here! Really . . . I Do . . . Don't I?"

"Me Too. It's Great And Can Only Get Better With The New V&A Dundee"

"You Ain't Seen Me . . . Right?"

      

"They Can Be Just Like Us, Can't They Darling"