Showing posts with label Joseph McKenzie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joseph McKenzie. Show all posts

Saturday, July 25, 2020

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.

Monday, February 10, 2020

In Search Of "The Modern Prometheus"

Well, there I was with nothing more than the old Rollei T in my hands and the thought that I really should use him more than I do. 
Oly The Rollei has been a friend in my life since the 25th January 2003 (oh the power of keeping notebooks!) when I was pushed into the remembrance (by my brother) that at one time I had been dead serious about photography. 
He was alluding to my degree course at Duncan of Jordanstone College Of Art and my friendship (yes I can call it that, and indeed so could all his students) with Joseph Mckenzie (father of modern Scottish Photography - not my quote) or just plain JOE as we called him.
A giant of a character who railed against the mores and attitudes of the narrow-mindedness of the institution that was DOJCA his whole life. 
"The Ruby In The Pig's Arsehole" was what he called the Photography Department, and it was true.
No making of little me's by him,  no sir - he gave you wings to fly
Anyway, that's been detailed before. 
Suffice to say Oly The Rollei was a sound purchase and has stood me well through hundreds of films.

This is an intereactive post, in that it requires you to click links - if you're OK with that, please proceed!


Prometheus 6

Anyway, enough of technicalities, I've had a thought to do a small photographic portrait of Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin for a while.
Who's SHE? I hear you ask.
Well, better known as Mary Shelley, she spent a small portion of her formative years (1812 and again 1813) in Dundee.

"I wrote then—but in a most common-place style. It was beneath the trees of the grounds belonging to our house, or on the bleak sides of the woodless mountains near, that my true compositions, the airy flights of my imagination, were born and fostered."

If you read the preface to the 1831 edition of Frankenstein she says as much, about her days spent dreaming and observing the 'drear' banks of the Tay.
It was a very different city in those days too; the town expanding exponentially from it's post-medieval port status, to full-on Industrial Centre.
The influence on a young and imaginative mind must have been immense.
She could draw from the sites of witch burnings; plague pits; haunted lanes; a smelly and bloody whaling industry; mills; smoke; a burgeoning (and racially disparate) population; slums; death and dirt.
Oh and mountains!
The ways of a young imagination with such things to play upon it, can only be drawn from reading the book.
It must have been profound.

Her base was a large house (demolished roughly around the 1860's) called The Cottage. It was owned by the industrialist Thomas Baxter and looking at maps, must have been a typical, moneyed, house of the time with decent grounds.
All that is left of it and its grounds now, is a small plaque on a very large wall that puts a full-stop on a small street called South Baffin Street (y'see, Dundee's whaling heritage is all around - we even used to have an East and a West Whale Lane).
South Baffin is quite unusual in that there is no resident's parking, just a couple of forlorn benches plopped in the middle of a street of tenements.

Anyway, I digress.

Sometimes don't you just wish you had a time machine?
I suppose you do own one if you use your imagination, but all the same . . .
Looking down on the myriad of satellite dishes (Oh how 90's Dwarling!) strewn over the tenements, it was hard to get myself back to a time when a young girl would have looked out on relatively unspoiled Firth!
As I stated before, Dundee was a very different place then.
If you look at the OS at this link and then scroll in till you see Camperdown Dock - The Cottage is around the one o'clock mark up from there.
As you can see, to the left of the map are to be found the sprawling docks and the remnants of a medieval walled City.
To the right of the map you see open strath and scattered houses and factories.
Lots of open fields.
That process of the slow creep of the City outwards, is still ongoing.
Landscape becomes managed and culverted (as indeed it has always been).
Picturesque land becomes lost and built upon and before you know it, all that is left are the old names.

The area that also concerns us is Stannergate.
This still exists and it was at this point where the culverted  burns entered the Tay.
On the old map, there's a promontory, but this is now buried under modern reclaimed land. Apparently the promontory was where Mary would sit and think and dream and watch all the flotsam of a working port go in and out.
Now it is the site of industry with a deep water port (owned by Forth Ports) and a substantial Rig Decommisioning Area.

Even though you can't get near the actual Stannergate foreshore itself, you can get relatively close enough, and indeed if you stand there at low tide, and close your eyes (ignoring the incessant car roar) you can sort of feel the movement of the estuary; the holding back of land; the chanelling of springs and burns and rain-water courses; the turning of the tides and the planet.
Indeed, I'm not sure what it is, but it has something.
My father-in-law, born and raised in Dundee city centre back in the '30's when it was proper poor said his mother used to take them to the Stannergate for a holiday.
It's only a couple of miles from the centre, but, at the time would have been beyond (just about) the smoke and industry of one of the busiest and hardest-working cities in Scotland.
With the nearby 'Grassy Beach' and the delights of Broughty Ferry further along the coast, the cleaner air blowing off the estuary and the un-sprawled-upon fields, must have been a panacea to a population familiar with grime and stoor.

So that's set the scene a bit hasn't it.
From South Baffin to the Stannergate is a short walk and on my first exploratory expedition (serious and with camera in hand) I didn't make it.
Initially I wanted to get a feel for the place, so I started at Broughty Ferry Road, walked to the top of the steps at South Baffin St, back down, along to the Roodyards Burial Ground (site of the ancient and long demolished St. John's Chapel [a well-known shrine from the C15th and Hospital of St John The Baptist, also from that time] though the site is documented as being a plague site for the disposal of corpses).
From there I made my way down the deserted and neglected Roodyard's Lane, crossed the main road and headed into the docks.

I've photographed the docks for years and always find something interesting - it's that sort of place.
You also tend to be ignored even with the likes of a 5x4 set-up, which is very nice indeed.

Anyway, back to Mary.
I struggled, I really did.
That she was here is fact; but to draw a line between her and modern Dundee is pretty much an impossibility.
Certainly it was for me, camera in hand, wondering what to photograph.

And this is what I did - as usual, you get the whole contact and notes, and then some prints.



Film #66/64

Ilford HP5+ EI 200
1. 1/4 f5.6 ZIII South Baffin Street
2. 1/2 f8 ZIII South Baffin Street
3. 1/2 f4 ZIII South Baffin Street
4. 1/8 f8 ZIII Cemetery/Roodyards Road
5. 1/15 f5.6 ZIII Cemetery/Roodyards Road
6. 1/30 f4 ZIII Rolleinar 1
7. 1/4 f8 ZIII Rolleinar 1
8. 1/8 f8 ZIII Dock Street
9. 1/30 f8 ZIII Sign
10. 1/60 f5.6 ZIII Rolleinar 1
11. 1/30 f5.6 ZIII Object
12. 1/30 f5.6 ZIII Scene

Pyrocat HD 5+5+500ml 22℃
Usual agitation. 14mins, stand to 17 mins
Lots of camera shake - no tripod, should have used cable release.
Forgot hood a couple of times hence flare. The drilling thing looks amazing on neg. They're not great though - could do and will do better.
ALWAYS USE THE HOOD!!



Ah yes, the sage words "Always Use The Hood"!
If you own or are contemplating an old Rollei, and, like me, rather like shooting into bright light sources, then get a hood.
You can see it in the lower section of frames 4 and 8 on the contact. basically, if you don't use one, the following frame will be ruined by a band of flare. It used to frustrate the heck out of me because I had no idea what was causing it. I bought a Bay 1 hood, and it stopped. All the other frames above I am using the hood in similar lighting and there's no flare.
Save yourself heartache - USE A HOOD!

Anyway, here's the results - they're all 800dpi scans off of my prints made on Ilford MGRC for speed and convenience. It probably is a slippery slope for me  - I can bang out a bunch of prints compared to the care I have to use with anything fibre-based. This being said, the results are fine and they work for me as a visual stimulus, as in:

"What are you going to do wiv all them prints then?"

"You gonna just stare at them wiv your jaw open, droolin' on yer jumper ? Or are you actually goin' to get off yer fat arse and do sumfink?"

Ah yes, the visual arse kick.
It'll be the latter, deffo.

I sort of put these into a slight sequence - not sure if it works or not.


Prometheus 1

Prometheus 2

Prometheus 3

Prometheus 4

Prometheus 5

Prometheus 6

And that as they say is that.
Hope you've found it interesting. It's amazing what local history you can find in Britain if you dig even a little bit.
I've had fun doing it, improved my knowledge and, semi-inspired, have gone on to explore the area further with a bunch more films which I'll be posting in subsequent, er, posts.

If you get a chance, or maybe you are intimately familiar with it, read Frankenstein. I initially found it difficult to approach, but when you start stripping it back, and discovering the influences that brought it into being, and indeed the influence it had on fiction full stop, well, I think it is pretty remarkable.

That's it - TTFN and remember, never drink the vinegar from a jar of pickled onions.


Monday, October 09, 2017

A Chance Discovery

Morning folks - do you ever get the feeling that time is playing tricks with you?
I do. I have a mountain of printing to do, but the weekends just seem to run away and before you know it, it's back to the daily usual and nothing done.
Anyway rather than me trying to shoehorn in another Dundee thing (we are The City Of Discovery - literally, Captain Scott's Antarctic ship is berthed here and well worth a visit should you ever decide to visit - but just about every single business in the city tries to fit 'Discovery' into their wording, or so it seems) instead, I will pen a little ditty about coming across something of which I was not aware, but which surprised the heck out of me.

If you've read FogBlog much you'll know of my enormous respect and love for Joseph McKenzie, 'father of modern Scottish Photography' (whatever that is!), mentor, friend for a time and purveyor of jokes, tea, chat and advice. In other words the sort of person anyone would be glad to have around.
Whole days spent in his office, spotting prints and talking and the enormous push towards a degree show, which showed a lot of my landscape photographs . . 
Err, what a fantastic idea eh? 
Go for a graphics degree and end up displaying nearly as much trying-to-get-the-spirit-of-place landscape photographs! 
Ah yes, I was a stone cold genius (read fool) predating the rediscovery of landscape by the masses by oooh a few years (and if you believe that you'll believe anything). 
Still it was a stupid move really, but you know what? I was proud of my photographic exhibition - it is the only one I have ever done.

Anyway, that's away from the main drag - which is the discovery of an image that I personally think is absolutely stunning. 
I found it a few years back (can't remember where, so don't ask) when trawling around for Joe's images on t'net.
It stopped me in my tracks, mainly because I was unaware of its existence, but also because of the technical mastery. 
Now I would say that it appears to be a lithographed print (because it is a poster) so one does wonder whether any tickling-up occurred during the plate-making process. 
You never know. 
It does seem to have that heavy 'graphics' look to it . . 
This was something I practiced, oooh, decades ago when at school and preparing a portfolio for admission to college. 
It's a simple technique - basically, look at something with half closed eyes - your brain will render that down to shapes and light and shadow - then draw it. 
It can also be very useful when taking photographs of iffy subjects too, especially in even dodgier lighting; it renders things down, cuts out superfluous detail and you can get an idea of what a good bit of heavy-handed (or light and delicate!) printing will do to the negative. 
I still use it if I need to.

Back to the poster, though - yes the 'heavy' look is there, but also if you look at the sky below the bridge spans, that looks pretty damn naturally photographic to me. 
The New Tay Railway Bridge bridge opened on the 13th July 1887 - at the time it was a marvel of Scottish Victorian engineering. 
Joe's Centenary photograph gives it an air of wonderful permanence and solidity and dare I say it for something which is so huge - a certain grace and beauty too.
As to the 'graphic' aspect, well certainly he could print anything, and the fireworks do have that aspect, but look closely too - it does have the look of a proper Scottish Summer night, when it never really gets that dark. So, tickling up or not, you decide
Technically, well, it was Joe so more than likely he was using Tri-X and D76 . . it doesn't look like it though does it . . . 
Anyway, that's an aside. 
Here's the poster.
I think it is a technical tour-de-force - let me know what you think.



© Joseph McKenzie Estate 2017





I would dearly love to see the original print . . .
It actually very much reminds me of (if they'd had the same speed on their plates) something that could have appeared in Steiglitz' Camera Work in the early 1900's. 
Maybe that was his intention - it wouldn't surprise me.
If you look closely, you can see, beside the firework traces, the remnants of explosion clouds; those, balanced with the solidity and power, well, one can only wonder at the marvellous happenstance that brought together, light, gunpowder, water, engineering and technical mastery of a medium.
Hands down, it's the best fireworks photograph I have ever seen.
I love it.

Anyway, that is that, more treading water by me till the next 'proper' FB creaks its way out of the fog on its battle-cart . . .

So, before I head, I'll ask you to charge your glasses and raise them to Joe (again).
Photographer, mentor, friend to many, and all-round good egg.
Cheers Joe!


© Joseph McKenzie Estate 2017



TTFN and remember to keep taking the tablets.

Wednesday, February 01, 2017

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.)













Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Bridge Over The River Foible



Morning Folks! 
Can I ask you to please read the footnote (down there at the foot of the page . . in green) before you read the rest of this - it's important (well it is to me).

You know, photography is a funny thing, but beautiful too, because it can help to illustrate little foibles you might have as a human that you possibly aren't even aware of.

Oh no - not another bonkers discussion of the weirder side of things Sheepy - we can't take it any more - and if it is about Cartesian Dualism, we're outta here!

Well yes, I fully understand your feelings, however it is true. 
Look, stop whining and do yourself a favour . . drag out those boxes you've got with tons of old prints and contacts in . . or even stoke the steam-room and fire up your Gargantua Mark II Super Computer, and have a skeg at your Hard Drives.
Now see if you have any photographs of the same thing. 
There, that's better . . . you do don't you!
Dogs? 
Trees? 
Sheep? 
Crisp Packets? 
Calculators? 
I'll bet there are certain things in your archives that you've photographed LOTS of times. 
It's one of those things - we're drawn to certain objects like flies to shite, time and time again. 
And in my case, it happens to be bridges. 
Yep, without even thinking about it, I seem to have a collection of bridge pictures.

And just what was the instigator of this weird train of thought Sheephouse? 
C'mon man. Snap out of it. You're losing it and us big time! The stats for your last post about snapshots was well below par. 
Just what the feck is going on???

Well I was having a clearout. 
Chateaux Sheephouse was just too crammed with shite and bits of paper, books, vinyl records, more books, maps, cameras, gadget bags, more bags, more cameras, and prints
BOXES of them
And when I waded into that ghastly/enriching/triumphant/terrible mire, I was struck by a thought that fell into my head - Clang! - it dropped in, struck me and stuck. And it was something that had never really struck  me before.
I love bridges. 
And it isn't just the case that they stop your feet getting wet/stop the car becoming a submarine; and it isn't just the case that they could imply a transition in life either.
I think in my case, it comes from an appreciation of form over function or meaning. 
Bridges are beautiful things. 
They're as basic and as human an artifact as you could imagine, and yet they seem (to me) to be far more than just a means of crossing a chunk of water. 
I have a lot of deep memories tied up with bridges; from nearly falling off and drowning because of a rickety gamekeepers bridge in Moffat, to being just married to Ali and crossing the Forth Rail bridge at dusk on a hot Summer's evening in a sleeper to London, to sheltering with my friend Steve under Jocksthorn bridge whilst a particularly heavy shower passed by, and even down to some of the sublime photographic moments I had whilst making some of the photographs below. And sublime isn't an understatement.
There's something about taking your time and setting up beside a rush and a gush of water, or the lapping of a mighty estuary or the quiet waves of a lost loch somewhere. You see, bridges don't mind how long you take to photograph them, but you have to do it right
I think there's a certain aspect of you that has to adopt a measure of stone-age man-style respect for such constructions. 
You never really think about them do you, and yet they're marvels. They just are. Under-appreciated; taken for granted; scoured with bloody awful graffiti (can you hear me Newcastle?) and just generally not thought about at all. 
And yet. 
Can you imagine the land without them? 
No. Of course not, it's impossible - they're a part of your psyche; an archetypal remnant of your genes; a solution to a problem as old as man himself!
There. 
Bet that shite has got you thinking, and if it has, good. 
Don't pinch them, don't poke them and above all else Don't take them for granted.


So, unashamedly, here we have (in no particular order) some pictures of bridges. 
Pictures made by me and in praise of the span.





Bridge In Galloway. 
This was made on TMX 100 with the Wista and 90mm Super Angulon. it's a scan of a contact print and a poor one (scan) at that.






Not technically a picture of a bridge, but this is the underside of the Tay Road Bridge - it's the biggest bridge I have near me, so it gets photographed a fair bit. 
Again the Wista and 90mm Super Angulon.
It's a scan of a contact print.






This is a part of the railway sidings lead up to the Tay Rail Bridge - a mighty Victorian edifice
I liked the clouds in the puddle.
Lens was the humble and cheap 150mm Symmar-S






Another bridge in Galloway. 
Hard to tell from the scan but the print has lovely detailing in the shadows . . however this is a scan of a contact print, so you can't see it . . .
It was deffo the Wista and I think possibly the 90mm Angulon - very soft in the corners (just like me)







Aha - it's the Tay Road Bridge again.
Whilst this is pure cliché for lines, I rather like the light and the overall generally 'concrete-y' feel to the whole thing.
Scan off a 5x4 negative.
90mm Shooper Angulon.




This is the remnants of a ghillie's bridge over the River South Esk - it's a weird place - the sandstone work is quite beautiful. 
Camera was the Sinar F with a humble 90mm Angulon. 
Film was FP4 in HC110 - a good combo.
The print is a little dark for my tastes these days




Go on . . . have a guess.
Stumped? 
OK. 
Agfa 6x9 box camera with Ilford SFX when I could afford it. Surprising results really - it has an atmosfear all of its own.
The bridge is at The Hermitage in Perthshire.




Ah yes, the South Esk/90mm Angulon combo again.
It's funny, but driving over that bridge, you have no real idea of the epic groundings below it.
Again though, a little dark for my tastes!



You've been spared though, because there's more, but you are let off for good behaviour today.
Anyway, whilst that little collection was interesting (to me) I got an urge recently and felt compelled to explore the Tay Road Bridge again, but this time with the Hasselblad/60mm Distagon combo.
Here's the contact - as you can see it was fairly thorough - though stupidly I had the Hasselblad mounted on my Linhof Twin Shank tripod and the Gitzo Series 5 head which kind of limted how far back I could tilt the camera. This was overkill I know, however I had visions of me setting the camera up in water at times - the Twin Shank is dead easy to use in water situations as it has a bare, skeleton frame.
There was a lot of extreme balancing involved, but fortunately such is the quality of the lens you can shoot at f4 and stuff will still be super-sharp. I can say though that it is incredibly hard trying to photograph a very tall bridge from ground level with a wide angle lens, but hey-ho.
Film was well-expired Pan-F in 1+25 Rodinal.
Oh, and I've never heard of this before . . . but don'tcha think they have 'The Hasselblad Glow' ?





Bog standard contact print. Film was Pan-F (3 years past expiry date) rated at EI 40 (just because) and developed in 1+25 Rodinal (R09). 
Camera was the wonderful 500C/M. 
Lens was a 60mm CB Distagon - without a doubt the sharpest lens I have ever owned.




Hasselblad 60mm CB Distagon


I dunno about you - but to my eyes this has something. 
It is contrasty and yet it glows - I wish you could see the actual print because the lower left shadows contain a lot of detail. You can actually get your nose right up to the print (Hey, watch your greasy nose on my lovely print!) and the detail goes on and on. 
Remarkable. 
I wish I had owned this camera and lens years ago - it kicks me up the pants and makes me think What If?!


And that's it folks. A humble paean to the span.
I'll not bore you any more.
Just, if you can, take a little time and appreciate them, and if you feel like it, go on, ask "please" and make some photographs.
Just be sure to do it right.

***

On a sad footnote, FogBlog is dedicated to my mentor Mr. Joseph McKenzie, photographer, lecturer and great human being, who sadly died on the 5th of July (but I only found out today).
My thoughts are with his family.
To several generations of students at Duncan Of Jordanstone College Of Art in Dundee, he was a  true friend and an inspiration, and I suppose (actually, in fact I know) that you wouldn't be reading any of this were it not for him. 
His passion for photography was inspirational and he lit a fire in me which hasn't diminished.
R.I.P Joe