A Warning To The Curious

Morning varmints - well today I have decided to use the title of my very favourite MR James story and BBC Christmas Ghost Story, simply because I can.  

It sort of works.

I am no doubt sure you've all bought secondhand cameras before, well, here-in lies a tale of woe with regard to that subject so horrendously awful it'll have you wringing your withers and crying into your pint o'meths. 

Oh yes, it's that bad.

But first let me preface:

A couple of weeks back, in a fit of "We're all doomed in a nuclear/end of world/environmental disaster beyond all imagination sort of way" I went mental again and promised to pay myself back or sell a kidney just to make ends meet, and on the sage advice of Bruce who said:

"The 60mm and a 150mm on the Hasselblad would make a nice kit Phil . . ." 

or something like that, I purchased a very nice 1990 150mm CF Sonnar for the Hasselblad. It is in really lovely condition and I am delighted. 

I have to say, you know people go on about things snapping in and out of focus just like that? well, this is the lens for it. It's as clear as day on the VF even with as poor eyesight as mine. 

Anyway, last weekend I decided to test it out on a trip to St Andrews - the photos are shite (that'll save you looking at them) but they showed me the potential of the lens on a tripod (which I wasn't using).

Here they are:

Contact Sheet - TMX 100, EI 50, Pyrocat-HD

Not My Family

Not My Family Either

They're Not Mine Either

Anyway, having made a few cursory test prints on the last of the Fotospeed RC, I was knocked aghast.
There!

Yes, there!! 

Marks!!!

Top left corner of all the frames . . . !!!!

The wailing and gnashing of teeth took me into proper, out-of-it territory, and then in a brief moment of lucidty before the walls of madness closed in again, it struck me and the Time Machine got to working again and I remembered a time long, long ago, when yer Sheephouse was all but an egg, and the planets hadn't yet formed, and all was blackness and void and noxious gasses.

Not An Out Of Focus Alien Armada

Ditto

You see what I mean?
When I did examine them closely I knew exactly what they were.
If you're a Roy (Cropper . . .tsk tsk, Corrie fans) this probably won't affect you, but if, like me, you only ever print full-frame, then this is a very very pertinent thing. 

And you know what, years and years back I'd written an article about it, so here it is:

DUST DONKEY AND THE HAIRY MARY PROBLEM

I know this is stating the obvious, but it only becomes truly obvious when it happens to you and things are spoiled by it. 
Here's a truism - in photography, cleanliness is next to godliness.

There, I'll repeat that, in photography, cleanliness is next to godliness.

There is so much emphasis placed upon lens cleanliness that other areas are totally ignored - for instance how many things have you read that say that you must check inside your camera body for dust and particles?  

Eh?

Go on, I'm waiting . . .

Thought so. 

This was driven home to me recently after I had spent a week on holiday and taken three rolls of images which I obviously wouldn't be able to repeat again; we'd got home; I developed them, examined them with a loupe and then . . . 

AAAARRRRGH! . .  

Left hand side, about halfway down the frame, a hair - just one, but enough to make big problems on sky areas.  

Not only was the air blue, but the feeling of having captured something special vanished immediately.  

Disappointment mixed well with my f'ing and blinding - I simply couldn't believe it. Knifing a print is a pain (though curiously therapeutic), but with each negative I print, I aim to not have to do anything. 

The regime I have at the printing stage usually means this is the case - but things like that bleeding hair really got my goat.  

You see it was alright on a lot of the negatives, as there was a lot of grassland and a small line of black wasn't really going to affect the image, but on some of the lovely unrepeatable dawn skies . . .

I still get really annoyed about it.

Anyway, I grabbed Olly (the Rollei [a 1965 T for afficionados]), and there, attached to a seam surrounding the baffle just behind the lens was a tiny, fine, but enormously intrusive hair. 

Suddenly, from a small and not often visited corner of my brain, Dust Donkey brayed at me.

"Thought you'd been thorough eh Sheephouse?"

Well yes actually Mr Donkey, I thought I'd been really thorough - so much so, that in a pre-holiday-fantastic-image-unrepeatable-got-to-have-a-clean-camera type thing, my thoroughness to remove any possible problematic dust from the lens cavity had meant that I had been just too over-zealous and had blower-brushed more than necessary, not noticing that said Rollei seam had depillated one hair from said blower-brush, trapping it for all time on three unrepeatable films.

"Huh", he snorted, "gimme another carrot and I'll tell you what to do."

I dutifully did as I was told.

"Well, yer actual problem there was not us Dust Donkeys, but the dreaded Hairy Marys," he said pointing his hoof at the offending hair, "and those girls will get you every time.  Us Donkeys are easily blown out of the way - all you have to do is turn your camera back upside down, so that your lens is facing skyward, and use your blower brush or yer Rocket Air to move us around - we will invariably fall to the floor - but don't be too rough with your blowy-sweepy actions  as the Marys will attach themselves to parts of your camera that you weren't even aware of - internal body seams an' all that.  When you think you have chased off the herd, turn your camera around, place it lens down (with lens cap in place) on a flat surface, and then use a small torch and a pair of glasses or a small loupe to thoroughly check the interior for any Hairys - if there are any (and Sod's Law states that there probably will be) you can easily remove them with the likes of a speck-grabber, or pair of plastic tweezers.  You don't want any free-floating Marys in there," he said, "they're a bleeding nightmare."

Hmm, thanks donks.

"No probs matey, oh, and don't forget that you don't have to do this with every film, unless you are really really prone to dust - some people are, some aren't. Just watchit, 'at's all I'm saying, capisce?"

And there you have it, the (very sensible, but easily overlooked) law according to Dust Donkey - he's just off to the corner of the field now after having gloatingly stated the entirely obvious.  

Just wish I'd listened to him before I went on holiday.

I unpacked the Hasselblad, took off and thoroughly examined the film back . . that was clean, so I set the shutter to B and fired it and examined (with torch and glasses) and sure enough, there (just behind the bevel by the internal 'doors') it was.
A small scumble of impossibly fine fluff!
It looked all soft and cute and stuff, but there was no room for it in my herd.
I cleaned it (with my finger tip and a pair of tweezers, not a microfibre cloth as I thought this might introduce more fluff), released the shutter and wound on a few times and each time, new fluff appeared.
Who knows how long this stuff had been waiting to extrude itself from some unlit corner of the interior of my camera!
And eventually I got there and I reckon my camera is now clean.
Here's hoping.
You can't say fairer than that can you.

So what are you waiting for?

Trust me, this is something you really want to check.
Things like this can be sorted before a photographic adventure, but remember, time and light and things happening wait for no man.
The unrepeatable is just that.

You know it makes sense.

TTFN and if you see Dust Donkey, tell him his Mum hasn't heard from him in ages.

New Lands, Sleeping Bags And Big Cameras (Get your rubber trousers on - it's Part Two)

Well friends hopefully I whetted your appetite, and even if I didn't I am going to persevere with this shite simply because I have to get it all down and out of my system.

So to recap the last Blog:

Caravan Holiday.

Film Maniac with Large Camera

Lots Of Film

No Darkroom

As you can maybe tell from the above, film organisation was always going to be a problem. 

I took 8 Toyo Double Dark Slides with me, holding (obviously) 16 sheets of film, all of which I had pre-loaded in the proper dark of my darkroom. However, 4 of those sheets of film were TXP 320 from a previous load and I only wanted to use TMX 100 for consistency, so that was 2 DDS's knocked out for a start, but I took them anyway. 

My intention was to work my way through the remaining 6 (12 sheets of film) and using a recently purchased extremely very large changing bag change the film whilst there. 

And herein lay a problem.

Have you ever used a changing bag? I mean really used one as in it is all you had to use? Go on . . admit it . . you've got one, but you've never been brave enough to use it have you.

Well that was the predicament I found myself in.

Oh how I skipped out that first night to photograph. 

What a joyous time I had!

And then when I got back, had washed up and thought I must really get myself organised immediately so that I could stay on top of everything, how bouyant and enthusiastic I felt!

Ah, the innocence of youth! The naivety of the amateur!!

I had my changing bag ready.

I had my empty film box ready.

I had my rocket air blower ready to rocket.

I had my little interleaving sheets of paper ready to place over that day's batch, thereby delineating the end of the day . . .

I was good to go.

***
BOREDOM ALERT - DO NOT LISTEN TO CALMING MUSIC OR OPERATE HEAVY MACHINERY WHILST READING THIS NEXT BIT.

A brief aside into my thinking about keeping exposed film organised:

OK - it's pitch dark, or you're in your changing bag or whatever.

Stack you darkslides in the bag (before zipping it) in the order in which you will be placing the sheets in the box. A lot of people have several boxes for N, N+1, N-1 exposures etc, however I feel that it would be too easy to lose place of which image is which so don't use that method.

So say you have the following:

Darkslide 1:

TMX 100/1 (from your notes you know this to be a good exposure)

TMX 100/2 (from your notes, you weren't really totally happy with the composition on this one and you aren't really bothered about it)

Darkslide 2:

TMX 100/3 (from your notes you know this to be a good exposure)

TMX 100/4 (from your notes, a possibly difficult exposure - shadows placed on ZIII, but highlights well beyond ZVII)

[Now imagine the card inner sleeve that holds film in the plastic or foil envelope in a box of sheet film (Ilford ones are best here, because they are a folded sheet, not two separate sheets like a lot of other manufacturers)  - open that wide, put [in my case] 4 sheets of exposed film in, and then lay an interleaving sheet on top - that says to you in the dark that below the sheet is the first day's film.

Just as a double check, you have written on the sheet the day AND ALSO THE ORDER IN WHICH THE SHEETS ARE IN THAT PARTICULAR STACK (Obviously you can't read this in the dark, however if you get a bit lost you can remove it, seal the box and have a skeg at what you've done).]

Anyway, say in example to the above, you want to process TMX 100/2 first just to get a feel for correct development times. Unload that sheet first, place the film in the cardboard, fold it back down over the sheet, then say you want to process TMX 100 1 & 3 next. Unload and place in the card in the same way, then TMX 100/4 - that's the one which requires the most attention so you are going to process that last. Unload it last and place it at the top of the stack and place the interleaving paper on top of that.

Before you started, you stuck a piece of masking tape on the outside of the box with Day and Stacking info on too and also that the sheets are the first day's shooting.

So your strip of tape should read something like:

28/9/14 (Top - next to paper) TMX 100/4, 100/3, 100/1, 100/2 (Bottom)

You're going to ask why I've placed them in that order?

Go on, you are aren't you?

Good.

Well it's because it is easier to take a sheet from the bottom of a stack of film in my experience. Simple as that.

For however many days you are shooting (in my case 5) just repeat the above. And just because it is hard knowing what you are doing in the dark, you can always tell which way up the stack is, because the sheet of film on the bottom feels like film and not that sheet of paper you placed on top of the last sheet which is the top of the stack.

I hope this makes sense. It is a bit convoluted, however it worked very well for me apart from one cock-up in the stacking department, but I'll put that down to blind panic as detailed below.

***
IT'S OK - NO NEED TO CRY ANYMORE - DANGER IS PAST
 GO ON. GO AND GET YOURSELF A STIFF DRINK - YOU DESERVE IT.

Anyway where was I?
Oh yeah, bouyed up on a wonderful film-exposing evening, that's where I was!
All too ready to don a knotted hanky and raise a jaunty salute to anyone who might be passing.

I got everything organised as detailed above and with some trepidation and shaking hands (after all I had invested time and artistic effort into making these exposures) managed to unload my DDS's and get the film organised and sealed away into the box.
BTW - the picture of the tree from the last post, was from that initial batch of film.
Bongo I thought, job done (though it was getting a tad warm and sweaty in the bag [I am going to call it that from now on - The Bag - there, I've done it.])

So I pulled my arms out of The Bag, turned the light on, unzipped The Bag and got everything out. I was chuffed - it had seemed to work well.

I got my Rocket blower (essential if you ask me) and jetted out any bits of dust from the DDS's and organised them for loading, placed them back in The Bag alongside a box of lovely TMX 100.

Curiously I turned the light off (!), zipped both zips on The Bag, shoved my arms up the sleeves and prepared to load. 

And herein lies the problem with changing bags and DDS's - SWEAT. 

After I'd shoved my hands in I realised that for some unknown reason I was ramping up more moisture than a half-backs' Jock Strap. Are there such things as breathable changing bags? 

I've looked around and can't find them, but man it needs it, that and a small framework inside to stop the fabric draping itself over your hands at the drop of every hat. I know there's the Harrison tents, however one has only to look at the retail prices of these to realise that whilst they look totally the part, they are beyond the means of most enthusiastic amateurs . . ie ME.

In The Bag, the more frustrated I got with the cloth falling everywhere, the harder my fingers sweated. It was terrible - so much so that guiding the film into the slots in the DDS resulted in the film actually sticking to the plastic of the holders . . what a fckecking palava! 

It was a real nightmare and took me about four times longer than loading film normally takes. Allied to this, I didn't really know whether I'd ruined the film by getting moisture on the emulsion and said emulsion getting ruined by all the shite that was going on. 

I cannot emphasise enough how truly awful the situation was.

Several times the film stuck tight only a handful of millimeters into the slots in the holder and I had to scrabble with fingernails and swearing to free it, only to try loading it again, for the same thing to happen. 

The air was blue, and Ali wondered what the hell was going on.

After every sheet loaded, I put the film back into the box, took my soaking wet hands and arms out of the sleeves, unzipped The Bag and looked at the sheets of condensation which had formed inside The Bag's  material - it was like a greenhouse window on a frosty morning!

I then had to rocket air this to dissipate it, so I could carry on. 

I have never experienced anything like it, but I got there (in the end). 

And you know what, I knew I had to change tack, simply couldn't go through the torture again, so after a bit of thinking, the following two loads were made in conditions which most people would laugh at - they involved the following:

A bed.

A changing bag

Twilight/Night

A sleeping bag

Yep, I waited till it was pretty dark.

Shut the curtains (they were pretty much non-light-tight though).

Put The Bag, folded, on the bed (as a clean and easily made dust-free area . . well it was better than using a mattress that goodness knows how many people had slept in wasn't it!)

Laid out my film box and holders.

Draped a LARGE ex-army sleeping bag over the top.

And proceeded to unload exposed film and reload unexposed film into the holders underneath this makeshift tent. 

I had no idea whether the film would be affected, but I couldn't go back to The Bag alone. 

And you know what? It bloody worked! 

The sleeping bag was capacious enough to not keep draping itself all over my hands, but also of the right size to provide a nice light-tight seal where my arms entered underneath it. 

So all I can say, is if you ever find yourself without a darkroom, but with say a large coat and a darkened room, it is entirely possible to load and unload film. Of course you have to be careful, but it can be done! 

Hackneyed Cliché or Valid Artistic Statement?

Personally I'd go with the former

You have no idea how hard it was to make the above photograph. 

It was a cold and misty morning, my camera (lenses and ground glass) was doing its best to act as a condenser for the vast tracts of atmosphere surrounding me, as were my glasses and loupe. It was damn near impossible to see anything. Allied to this I knew there were several sheets of film in the holders that were totally fecked. However, needs must when the devil drives and this was one of those moments. 

Knowing that the film was possibly in a ruinous condition didn't help, but I had to use it - I couldn't just consign it to the junked sheets of history pile. 

And how do you think it has turned out?

Obviously apart from the composition (which is total shite) not half bad.

You can see there's a small mark about a quarter of the way up the print on the left side . . guess what . . that's it. For all my sweating and the film sticking tight, that was the only damage out of four sheets of film. 

It just goes to show that modern film is remarkably robust stuff. Bomb-proof is what I'd say. 

Oh and before I go, I'll also add that the combination of TMX 100 and 1:25 Rodinal doesn't get spoken about much, however it is as near grainless as a Warburton's bread factory!

Anyway, on that note, till next time I'll love you and leave you. 

It's deep into the lands of processing next time, so make sure you've got some fresh rubber trousers on, because I attempt something with regard to paper grading that is both foolish and interesting. However I'll try and make it a bit more interesting too and not all techie

TTFN and thanks for reading.

New Lands, Sleeping Bags And Big Cameras (Oh No! . . . Part One?)

Greetings folks - well, I am (just about) finally back in the land of crazed blogs, comparisons of the action of photons on sensitized materials, expensive pieces of glass, mechanical marvels and all round madness . . . yes, you've guessed it, it's photography time again! And not only that, I recently buried myself so thoroughly in all things photographic, that I have only just been discovered by a rescue party who were off looking for a lost tribe along the deepest, darkest of wilds of the East Coasts of Scotland . . .

Oh yes, hard, tough, epic, but above all fun.

I'll blame my wife, because it was her idea whispered into my drunken brain that made us book a caravan at one of our favourite locations as our main holiday of the year, and boy was it perfect.

Ali in a quiet forest on a wet day - we were surrounded by a sea of mist. 

Leica M2, 90mm f4 Elmar, TMX 100, Rodinal 1+25

Line across centre of photograph courtesy Epson 'Perfection' V300 - GRRRRR!

When I started planning it, I got all excited like a small puppy and instantly thought "Oh boy! Oh boy!! 6x7, 6x6, 5x4, 35mm!!! Woof Wooof Woooof" and ran round and round in a circle until I was sick on the carpet, which was pretty stupid really. After I'd calmed down, and after a bit more thought I realised I had to make a stand against myself and rather than be led by the excitement of different formats, just take a leaf from my own words and limit myself. 

So I did.

Two formats only: 5x4" and 35mm - and even this was limited further with regard to lens choice: 90mm f8 Super Angulon and 203mm f7.7 Ektar (for the large stuff) and (God bless him - there he is at the back hauling his bones up that hill) The Right Reverend Ernst Leitz 90mm f4 Elmar-M (for the 35mm stuff).

I'll admit that I did take the 50mm 1.8 Canon Serenar too as back-up, after all it is scary heading off into the unknown without being prepared, and I suppose were I being really hair-shirted I could have slimmed it down even further from there, but I wanted to have some fun too - it wasn't meant to be all about self-flagellation, so the cat 'o' nine tails was safely left at home and after giving myself a stern talking to, I got everything prepared.

Ancilliary-wise all I carried besides the cameras and lenses, were 8 Double Dark Slides, a cable release and (boxes!! of) film, a light meter (Gossen Lunasix 3S), my ancient Gitzo Series 2 Reporter and a similarly ancient Leitz table-top tripod, oh and a large changing bag.

I would say this was fairly modest in real terms - I've often travelled with a LOT more, however, because of the need for bulky 5x4 film boxes (Kodak) for putting all the billions of sheets of film I was planning on exposing in, the whole lot took up THREE camera bags! 

But what did a little set-back like that matter to me - fortunately on this holiday there was only going to be the two of us as Alec Turnips has now started University and is in the midst of the longest hedonistic drinking spree you could ever imagine, so we had room and plenty of it in our venerable old Honda.

So, everything packed, we left with thoughts of coming back a week later to a smoking, vomit-stained pit in the ground . . and more on this later. 

And that was us, out first holiday properly alone for 18 years - it was exciting! 

And where did we go? 

Well, you know I am going to keep it to myself (selfish eh?) simply because I don't see the point in telling the world where it is. If you recognise it fine, well done, if you don't, well I guess holidays are what you make of them. To be honest I don't think anyone at mine or Ali's work would regard a caravan as an exciting prospect, but that's where they're wrong. A modern static caravan can be a luxurious experience and you haven't lived until you have experienced a full-on rain storm whilst being cosied up inside one. Remember when you were young, and it was pouring and your Mum or Dad let you put something like an old raincoat over your head and stand outside whilst thick, thundery droplets splattered off the top of it in loud torrents? Well, it is like that, except you are centrally heated (this IS Scotland after all) and can sit and read and drink tea and look smugly at the rivulets tearing off to eternity. It is (as they say in Yorkshire) Chuffin' Fantastic, and I dare the naysayers to experience it for themselves. 

There, that's my propaganda on behalf of the Caravan Club over and done with.

The Goode Captain Sheephouse on a particularly brutal day - it had been raining for nearly 24 hours straight.

Sometimes only the craziest garments will do - this poncho hides not just me, but a camera bag, Leica M2, 90mm Elmar and Leitz table-top tripod.

So where do we go from here? Well, to be honest, there's a lot more writing to be done, and the whole trip has to be cobbled together from snippets of crazed memories, drunken haze, the pleasures of quiet countryside, un-nerving experiences, rain storms, mist, curry and books!

So although I know you're thinking "not another of those crazy posts that spread over weeks and weeks and are dull dull dull", well, yeah I suppose it could well be. Sorry about that, but you know what? I'm going to read it, infact I've got a feed to my work so I can read it there too, because folks (and you'll either get this or you won't) I found the whole thing damn exciting - I was well out of my comfort zone of having a darkroom to do all the dark stuff and was operating on the edge of guerilla photography, loading sheets of 5x4 in semi-dark rooms, rolls of 35mm in sopping wet conditions, and the worst of the lot, trying to keep a logical track of the (ahem) 20 sheets of TMX 100 I did actually expose - that was a challenge all of its own . . but more of that to come. 

So do yourself a favour, don't get all excited about the forthcoming blogs and rush around like a puppy and be sick on the carpet . . you might well get yourself banned for life. No, take it easy, put your feet up and let your intrepid Captain do all the hard work for you!

So, just to whet your appetite (and hopefully keep you interested enough to follow up on this initial part) here's an example of what you can do with a 60 year old lens, a film that seems a bit 'Knightrider' these days, and a developer that is older than all of us . . . . .

Oh, and some exhausted Selenium toner too.

Kodak 203mm Ektar, TMX 100, 1+25 Rodinal, Exhausted Selenium Toner (Unknown Dilution).
Fotospeed RCVC paper, Selective Pot-Ferry bleaching.

Interesting eh?

Basically I FUBAR'd the development and was left with a well-exposed, but fairly thin negative, and then a flashbulb went off!

Hadn't I read in 'The Negative' that you could expand the upper Zones of a negative by giving it a bath in Selenium? 

Yes I had, and so I did! 

And it worked. 

It's a weird technique, but the dark bits of the negative get even darker before your very eyes, resulting in a very nice 'vintage' expanded feel. The light bits (of the negative) remain the same, so you end up with lovely rich blacks and an expanded upper range - gorgeous.

The print was made on some ancient Fotospeed resin coated, developed in some even more ancient Moersch Eco tickled up with some Benzotriazole (thanks Bruce!) to overcome any fogginess in the paper. Grade was Grade 3 and I further enhanced the contrast by using a brush and Pot-Ferry bleaching on the highlights.

As a certain dead meercat used to say 'Simples!'

The one thing I would say about this negative is that tiny individual pine needles are totally visible and sharp, oh and that this was a limb off an Oak that must have been over 1000 years old - the old Kodak Ektar is an extraordinary lens and one of the real bargains in LF photography.

And so folks, on that note, I shall love you and leave you till next time - a dark and ghastly tale of poor contact sheets, sweat, changing bags and dust, oh and a real terrifying experience which had your author packing his Wista in double quick time and legging it as a quiet Scottish gloam descended on the land. Till then . . . TTFN.

You don't understand. I could'a had class. I could'a been a contender. I could'a been somebody . . . (In Praise Of Strange Cameras)

Firstly, humble apologies for the lateness of this . . .it was just one of those things.
The weekend FB will be published on Friday evening, so there, forewarned is forearmed.
I must admit, I have a bad habit. It is harmless to everything, except my credit card, but it is fun and makes me happy. It is the acquistion of cameras. I don't go crazy as financially I have never been able to, but I do get such enjoyment from cleaning up that new arrival with the grubby face and being nice to it, that I feel I should be working for Barnado's.
As mentioned in an earlier post, a lot of cameras are treated truly appallingly - it makes no sense. If you make photographs, your tools are your friends. you are a craftsman - be proud of your tools and look after them! Look - I have even made that last bit bold type. Please, be kind, And especially these days . . . how many people making film cameras are left? Answers on a small postcard please.
At Sheephouses' Home For Old Cameras (SHFOC) we have seen some really dog-eared examples of the camera race. The tattiest two have been a Pentax 67, which was brassed to bits, but strangely had a very accurate shutter, and a recent Nikon F3 which appeared to have been used so much that the black paint surrounding the shutter release button was completely worn through to the aluminium  . . . hmmmm . . . wonder how many times that shutter has been used? The camera itself though (as is typical of all professional Nikons) worked well!
However, of them all, the strangest and greatest that has ever arrived is a 1970's Koni-Omega Rapid 100. Although the vendor told me it was working fine, when it arrived the back was exhibiting the usual frame spacing issues and the lens was a tad dusty, also the light seals were gone all over and the rangefinder needed a clean. However the vendor sold it at a reasonable price and the cost of returning it overseas was exhorbitant, so I kept it. Caveat Emptor - always make sure you buy as locally as possible and have some form of comeback on one of these. As it was I ended up sending it to Miles Whitehead* - a camera repairman who completely refurbished it for a very reasonable price - you should see what he did to the lens - it is like new, and everything operates incredibly well.

(Here, Mr. Alec Turnips shows us what to do with a camera as big as your face)

As a camera, the Koni-Omega is an afterthought in the runner's-up race of could-have-beens. It could have been the greatest Medium Format camera ever built were it not for two points. Firstly the advance, which is the strangest thing ever invented. You have to pull a ratcheted 'slide' lever straight out from the film back and shove it back in; the action is quite violent and very un-photographic. Apparently it might have had its roots from when it was was originally designed as a military camera (no worries about fiddly knobs and things in extremely cold weather with gloves on) - a lot of our American cousins have likened the action to cocking a rifle and who am I to argue . .
Whatever the intention, this is a very difficult practice for a photographer who believes in looking after gear, and when I first got the Koni I was relatively gentle in my cocking and re-cocking action . . which actually resulted in overlapping frames. You have to use force. Or even the force Luke. If you do, your frames will be fine. They start off narrower and get progressively wider as the film goes on.
Its second Achilles Heel, is the rangefinder, which although it features parallax corrected bright frames, I personally find very difficult to use and composition with it is somewhat difficult. I still haven't got used to where abouts the exact edge of the frame is in relation to the images' position on the film.
Right that's its bad points out of the way. "What," you say, "only two bad points Cap'n?"
Yerse, only two!.
The good points are many:
As it is only the second 6x7 camera I have handled, I can say it is almost as easy to use as the Pentax - it balances well and is suprisingly un-bulky (for such a large, heavy camera). With its handle at the left side, it is really very easy to hold and shoot with - the one caveat I would add to this is that you would really be best to use a slightly faster film with it, as the weight could cause difficulties with camera shake (if you are not sure of your muscles and/or photo-taking technique).
I have used it successfully on a large Gitzo monopod, and the two together make an incredibly stable package and that was with slow film and exposures of about 1/15th! With the likes of Tri-X there's no problem - just stick to around 1/60th and you'll be fine..
The main wonder of this camera though is it's standard lens - originally a 90mm Hexanon, and latterly a 90mm Super Omegon. Both lenses are identical formulations, though I believe the latter was made by Mamiya and they used a more 'modern' Seiko shutter (the former were by Konica - hence 'Koni'!). The lens is (again) a Tessar design, but I can honestly say it is one of the finest lenses I have ever used. It is one of those rarities that can run the gamut from smooth pictorial, to incredibly detailed crispness and all points in between. The oofa (or bokeh) is sublime and imparts a creamy, dreamy effect to any images shot between f3.5 and f8. Stop down further than that and you enter seriously detailed territory.
The leaf shutter in the lens is another great thing, as obviously you only have that to worry about, and no massive (a la Pentax) mirror slap - in other words, it is a very quiet camera. The shutter release has quite a long throw to it, because it has two parts of travel. The first stage results in a small tick from the back of the camera as the pressure plate moves forward and presses your film tight against the guide rails (it moves out of the way when you pull the advance lever) - this ensures ultimate film flatness. The second stage is the shutter, which has the usual mechanical leaf shutter sound - very quiet indeed.

The above shows the oofa qualities of the lens. Unfortunately I was slightly out of focus on the 261 . . but never mind, you get the idea. Film was Tri-X developed in Barry Thornton's 2 bath. Timings were 1/15th at f8. Not too tardy at all methinks.

I used a tripod for this shot, and whilst it isn't the best way to use a Koni, it worked well. I stopped down to f16 and exposed for 54 seconds (it was an October's overcast evening) on TMX 100 at EI 100, developed in Barry Thornton's 2-bath. You'll get an idea of the incredible detail resolved by this combination. also the distant trees retain that old-style Tessar dreaminess. I love it actually.
So there you go. (Apparently) the most popular wedding photographers camera of the 1970's in America, now selling for next to nothing, but still capable of returning sterling results. Yes it does have it's faults, but if you can live with those and want a nice photographic adventure, I can recommend adopting one of these poor boys - there's a lot of them out there, and they are in deep need of some TLC.
The more I use it, the more I like it!

* http://www.mwcamerarepairs.co.uk/

Up Close & Personal

Listen. What's that sound? It's like a cross between a lonely sea monster (thank you Mr. Ray Bradbury) and a fog horn, way out beyond the reef, where the dark ocean starts to shelve away to night. Yes, its the sound of another FogBlog!

On that salubrious note, I will greet one and all a jolly good morning.

Today's post deals with an oft overlooked (and much beloved by me) accessory for ye olde Rolleiflex, namely the Rolleinar. These close-up lenses were made in 3 different magnifications namely #1, #2 and #3. As close-up lenses they excel - you've never seen anything as sharp, you've never seen 'bokeh' as nice. They are extraordinarily good, and parallax corrected too. The people behind the design of the Rolleiflex really thought everything through - everything fits and everything works so well, you rarely have to think much about accessories at all.

However despite their abilities as close-up lenses, one day I discovered another use for them. Messing around, I focused in really close on something and then changed my view so that what I was seeing was something from nearer infinity, and bingo, I discovered that by racking the focus in and out on subject matter that wasn't a close-up, you had a wonderful, variable soft focus lens.

I love Clarence White's photographs, and I also have a massive respect for anything from the Photo Secession, and I found that by using the Rolleinars in this way I could achieve a faux Pictorialist effect. I think it works, if you like what you see, feel free to comment.

This photograph was taken in some woods on the edge of a caravan site we were staying at at Crocketford in Dumfriesshire; the weather had been the usual mix of shower-dodging and things were getting really stormy quite early. What I think about this photograph is that it can either be threatening or friendly.  You could get a feeling of threat from it (as in nothing is as clear as it seems; what is that shadow lurking up ahead? etc etc) but to me it is more friendly and hopefully touching on some of that Pictorialist Romanticism whilst being a tad ethereal at the same time.
Who'd have thought some densely planted Pine and Birch could have been so transformed by light.
Camera was my old Rolleiflex T, with a Rolleinar #1 fitted. Film was TMX 100 developed in Barry Thornton's 2-bath developer. It was a cinch to print on Grade 2 paper, and I printed it slightly lighter as the original lighting was a bit too oppressive.
In the words of Joe Satriani: I like it.