dark-field

during endSomewhat different than a straight dark field setup in that these were lit from the side with a pair of strobes in front of a dark background, rather than with a single strobe from behind the background. The exposure on the right has an additional small spotlight on the front of the mug in order to define the etching on the glass surface.

Interestingly, the exposure for the image on the left was an ordinary flash timing of 1/100 second @ f/14, whereas the image on the right was 13 seconds @ f/14. Because the light on the front of the mug was so insignificant in comparison to the flash, the subject is illuminated by the modelling lamps + the spot on the front of the mug.

Update on Saturday, January 19, 2013 at 05:07PM by KMW

There were several other iterations to this photograph. The one I spent the most time with was this one that uses a white reflector the exact size of the mug, which gives a consistent color to the liquid.

another during

end of an era

Of course I knew it was coming. But that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. This is the last of my transparency film images to be processed by my local lab. A circuit board in the processing machine has died, and John Stubblefield has decided he doesn't do enough chrome work to justify repairing the machine. I'm assuming he's still doing negative film, since he accepted a sheet of FP4. But I've never been a fan of negative material, much preferring the immediacy of transparency. I can set them on the light table and see the image without having to scan and print a contact sheet. Looks as if I'm going to have to start shipping film out to a lab if I want to continue using my preferred Astia & Ektachrome G, in any format. But especially in 4x5 sheets.

Concurrent with this sad news is the announcement of a new Nikon camera, the D800, which I have mostly no interest in. Looks like another boring black dslr. Nonetheless, it's certain to be imminently more useable in more situations than my fifty year old Linhof Tech IV. On the other hand, I actually enjoy composing an image that is upside down and backwards.

The nails in the coffin are being driven closer to home. Bummer, dude.

visions of lovliness

"Christmas Eggs" - 24 December 2011

There is something about technical difficulties of a chosen format, and the manner in which they are solved. We often seem to go in the direction that is the most difficult solution, rather than the other way around.

For many large format photographers, because of the size of the "sensor" aka film, the challenge is to get enough DoF to have anything outside a very small area in focus. So we use camera movements to achieve something approaching complete focus within the image. If something is OoF, then we've failed. (Unless there was a conscious decision to limit focus severely, or there are elements in the composition from very near to very far that are very tall.)

On the other hand, for small sensor photographers using devices such as Point & Shoot or 4/3 or even 35mm, the challenge is to get an area that is OoF, since it's easy to get everything in focus. Instead we use fast lenses to achieve razor thin DoF, praising gorgeous bokeh in the blurred portions of the image.

I don't know what this says, other than that we seem to be technical contrarians. We're in search of something that not every technician can achieve.

missing

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Hidden in the corner, I found this a couple of weeks ago when in town for an appointment. I didn't have a camera with me at the time, but it didn't look as if it was going anywhere, so there was no rush. Indeed, it was still there last week when I returned. This feels like the first color negative film that really works for me. Such that I'm excited about working with it some more. The light was quite diffuse (it rained within the next hour), and I've not pushed the limits of color verisimilitude with this composition. The ISO 400 grain adds quite nicely to the feel.

it only goes so far

"Camping World" - click 'er for bigger
Some time back, it seemed as if Mike Chisholm was chiding me for "stalking" my photographs. Maybe I'm taking it personally, or maybe I'm not so very unusual in seeing compositions and planning in some detail how to capture a view imagined for some time in the minds eye. This view is a good case in point: I noticed this spot  probably a year ago, but it wasn't until my recent return from mid continent that I had the time and inclination to stop and set up the camera. The location is at least two hours driving time from home and not really on the way to many places we head towards very frequently. This may not be the ideal time of day to have been here, but that's when I was passing by. Looks like we may be headed that direction again next week, so perhaps I can impose upon the fam to let me take some time to try again.

hither & yon

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There are always interesting combinations to be found. What is most remarkable about this sort of thing is the way the mind can put pieces together that are widely disparate, which may not have been viewed for months. Software only helped find the physical location of the pieces, and then create the combo. But it had nothing whatsoever to do with making the mental connection in the first place.

on the level

It must have something to do with working as a carpenter and owning various tools that determine if the built world we create is a close approximation of some standard of level. When it comes to photography, many, if not all of my compositions of architecture or elements that are square or level in nature are approached in a way that preserves this “levelosity.” It's really hard for me to compose horizontals out of level. The verticals are ordinarily attended to by the view camera that has become my standard tool. It has a level bubble on it, or in the case of the Sinar, three, to make sure that I get the world captured in a level manner. In many instances there is also a symmetry issue to contend with, which one either has to consciously destroy, or submit to the designer's intent.

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Mike C. at the always provocative Idiotic-Hat blog has recently written about his tendency to try to get grids square with the edges of the frame. He displays an admirable technique in that he prefers not to work with a tripod, and certainly not a view camera or tilt-shift lenses.

This recent photo is definitely a step in a different direction for me. The original concept was to approach the wall in a typical manner: head on. Eventually that's not what seemed to work best. Not that this is a radical departure, but perhaps it will help me become more comfortable with compositions of buildings that are “out of level.”

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An interesting observation after the fact is that normal perspective has been reversed here: near portions of the building are smaller than distant sections. Possibly something to work on in the future.

an understanding - finally

 

 
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It's taken a while, but I finally understand better why I use the equipment that I do. Earlier today I thought this might be an excuse. But it doesn't feel that way any longer. It's more self discovery.

While I admittedly purchased both my preferred cameras late in the film vs. digital battle, at the time it seemed like a simple continuation of an established trend (in my life of chemical film based imagery). Being a slow learner, and one not taken to jumping from one equipment choice to another without some period of trying to learn the capabilities of the tools at hand, the chosen format has taken me in what I feel to be a good direction. I'm clearer about  what I want to photograph, even if it does mean that I photograph less  - and less frequently as well.

But now that I  have made my decision to work with the present tools, the natural inclination in our family is to stick with what you've got until it wears out or breaks down. (Even then, we're likely to fix it and keep it running a while longer.) It's really an issue of conservation of materials and time. I'm not inclined to join the worldwide hordes in their rampage for the quick and easy digital because camera manufacturers made some compelling reasons for the entire planet to buy a new camera. What I have works - for me. I'm still learning how to use what I've got. It's not broken, so why should I switch to something else that runs on a cycle of six month obsolescence?

A familiar lament, I know. I'm concerned with the rampant consumer ism we're locked into. The glut of image capture is part of it. More and more, faster and faster. Does anyone benefit but appleadobecanondellhpleicamicrosoftnikonolympuspentax?

really retro

In this day and age, it's really old news to talk about film emulsions. But a minor - very minor indeed - realization has come upon me these past few weeks. As a landscape photographer, and one who has mostly moved to working with a 4 x 5 view camera and a tripod, there has been little or no motivation to use fast film. A couple of years ago I discovered Fuji Astia 100 and have been mostly very happy using it, along with the comparable Kodak emulsion, E100G, as well as an equivalent b&w, Ilford FP4.

For something different, I think it's time to try portraits. On the rare occasion when it's tried, the success rate is usually fairly low. Not necessarily because of film speed problems. The photographer's eye is more the problem. But one technical detail that could be altered to help ease subjects would be to use a faster emulsion. It would help ease the photographer's (my) anxiety somewhat as well. It's obvious to me now that watching the light move across a landscape is hardly the place for fast film. On the other hand, humans sitting before a camera lens is a good application.

self portrait & a confession

Not quite sure what it means, that these last four images are all from the same day 14 months ago. Could it be as simple as:

• I like the shapes, textures, & colors
• they are flat, nearly 2 dimensional compositions that expose my predilection for simple, shallow visuals

As for the confession, here goes:

All the images included here on ManMadeWilderness and printed for the  exhibit of same have been manipulated in an image editor. Yeah, yeah, what's the big deal? Okay, here goes... I don't use Photoshop. There, I finally said it out loud.

I'm prompted to make this outlandish confession because of the amount of time I spent working on today's photo... in my demo copy of PS CS3. It's slick. It has cool features. I don't really know how to make it work. But I got better results in only a couple of minutes by using my standard editor: Corel PhotoPaint. It does pretty much the same thing as Photoshop, costs a third as much for twice the functiionality, and I've been using it since version 8 so I know it fairly well by now. There you have it. The full truth. I've outed myself to the world.

I DON'T USE PHOTOSHOP!!! If people start looking at me funny from now on, I'll suspect it's a result of this late night admission.

photojournalism or still life cinema?

 

world's largest push-pin

While recently trespassing on some No Man's Land terrain, an activity that is nearly impossible to not do when exploring many places in the eastern United States if not in a public parkland, I was reminded of the kinds of imagery that used to strike my imagination when I attempted to create small cinema narratives. I was intrigued by a location and the potential for its discovery, as if coming upon it for the first time ever. In this case, it was emerging from the forest onto a large open earthen dam, a water retention declivity during times of intense rain run off. There are a number of visual elements in this location, and they certainly cannot all be contained within the scope of a single image.

What's really the best form for such an investigation? A static succession of still images that doesn't really give much of an impression of movement into the landscape? Or literally moving the camera in some kind of film/video POV forward movement? I've always been much enamored with the "reality" presented by the long takes that were choreographed for such films as Weekend, Touch of Evil, which is discussed by characters in a similarly long take at the beginning of The Player, and especially the end of The Passenger. Obviously the resources brought to bear for these films is unavailable to me for a rather random visual experiment.

So an alternative of some sort must be found. But it is the film La Jetee, a 1960's experimental masterpiece by Chris Marker, that most often comes to mind when considering how else to do something like this. A film that consists entirely of still frames - except for one exquisite moving image - this is the grand daddy of ways to tell a story with still images, and a voice over.

Since I know nothing about the history of the photo documentary style of story telling, I don't know what to draw on from that realm. It's not likely though to include investigations of the landscape, at least not in the specific detailed manner I imagine.

Well, I see I've lapsed into enough generalities during the course of the several hours it's taken to compose these few words, that the train of thought has petered out long ago. In essence I'm looking for a form to use to tell about discovering a new landscape location with a series of photos. Whether the experiment will get beyond the conceptual stage is another matter entirely. 

Roping update

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Now here's a curious phenomena - which I've observed years ago in a not dissimilar vein.

Oh yeah. By the way, the roping has gotten better. Still not ready for Prime Time, still not consistent, but decidedly better than several weeks ago. My short term goal has been achieved. I was able to learn how to spin a flat loop. Now that I've gotten to the point where I can do it somewhat reliably, it might be time to go back and read what the experts have to say about the way to do it. But I feel pretty good that although it probably took me ten times longer than many people take to learn something this insignificant, I've gotten well past the initial spazz behavior that began the activity. Once again "perseverance furthers." Whether I am capable of learning more difficult tricks remains to be seen, and no doubt will require considerably more perseverance.

Okay, so the curious phenomena: when I went out to practice roping Sunday afternoon after my return from photoing, the first spin of the session was pretty darn good. I was able to pass the rope over to my right hand, keep it going there for a few seconds, pass it back to my left, and still keep it spinning. I might have keep the rope turning for a minute total. Subsequent attempts became less and less successful, to the point that I was right back to the beginning not being able to spin the rope at all. As far as I could tell, I was doing nothing differently than the first spin when I came outside to start the session. How can this be?

I adjusted my technique a bit to be certain I began the way I knew was the recommended method. That's better. I kept at it for a while longer, and was once again able to spin a flat loop, but still probably not as neatly as the first one of the day some 30 minutes previously.

So what is it about starting out at an activity that one knows how to do, albeit in a rudimentary fashion, and being able to immediately exhibit some degree of proficiency, but then lose that proficiency the longer one practices?

And does this have an analog in photography, specifically in my own photography? Is it true that when I go out in the field, are the first images I capture the best, the truest, the most immediate? The longer I stay out, do subsequent images suffer from an overly analytical mindset? Perhaps... but I'd like to believe that I'm still open for surprise and an exciting image to present itself, as I walk farther into the field.

Outta My Way

 

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While practicing my rope spinning this morning - more on that another time - I occasionally glanced up at the sky. Not too often, mind you.

Got to keep my nose down, and get some work done - can't be wandering off to look at every pretty little bug that wanders through the yard.

I continued to throw my rope, even once or twice in the hour getting it to spin in the requisite circular manner. But the lure of the sky was ultimately stronger. Once an hour of my practice was up, it was time to go find a camera and capture some photons. The natural inclination these days is to start with the Linhof 4 x5. Set up the tripod, and once again I realized that the head would not permit the camera to tilt far enough back to see what I was looking at. Maybe the other head would allow the movement desired. Went and got that, put it on the tripod. But it requires a quick release plate. Went and got that out of a different bag. Hmmm... doesn't fit in the 3/8" threaded socket in the bottom of the Linhof. Perhaps it's time to consider another camera. Roll film has become an annoyance, which leaves me with the digicam. Set that on the tripod, since it was already in place, and this is what I've gotten. Perfectly usable for these practically decorative purposes.

But the point of this is that it is supremely annoying when equipment gets in the way of what you see. I want to be unimpeded in my work, my chosen activity of whatever it might happen to be at the moment. I'm always rummaging around for the correct tool. By now I've got enough of them that I can pretty much make do with some combination of what's on hand. But it still feels like I've been pushed in a way that wasn't what I originally wanted. In this case, going from a 4 x 5 to a P&S digicam felt initially like rather a compromise. Once the two or three exposures were made, the convenience of the tool became paramount. Nonetheless, I am still left with a concern about how the limitations of certain tools get in the way of creating.

Upon generalizing, it's pretty obvious that all material goods get in the way at one time or another. The overcoat that I wear during a winter nor'easter doesn't do me much good as a bathing garment when I'm swimming in the lake. The boots I wear in the snow don't work too well for walking around inside all day long. I want one piece of clothing to work for all weather extremes. And so I want one camera to work in every imaging situation. Obviously this is not going to happen – at least not with a view camera. Or maybe it could, after several more decades of practice. But do I want to spend that much time mastering a technology that in all likelihood is mastering me?

The other realization during this session was that I'm still after all these years attracted to 3D images when looking at the world. Years ago I could use a tool to capture that sort of attraction. Now that I'm using monocular vision devices, there are many scenes that don't work at all seen with one eye and viewed on a flat piece of film and flat screen monitor, and printed on a flat piece of paper. Which could be partially an explanation why I'm more comfortable with a still camera when I can approach a subject straight on. Many of my compositions are almost wall like. It's an illusion to try to get depth into a flat medium. Should the attempt even be made, or it is another fundamental Lie that photography makes about the world?

P-P-P-P-P-P-P

Construction debris , Albemarle County

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That is:

Previous Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance

It wasn't exactly the crack of dawn when I finally got out the door this morning, but it was still within the first hour and a half of early light. I'll admit it : I'm still a sucker for early and late light. I'm stuck in that aesthetic. Perhaps after another decade of working with it and around it, I'll figure out a way to expand my repertoire.

Nonetheless, I had fully intended to work with the Linhof and find a composition or two to put on sheet film. I was prepared with three cameras, six lenses, two tripod heads, a bag of film with three sheets of FP4 and half a box of Fuji quickloads. In actuality it doesn't appear as if I was unprepared. After finishing off, right beside the van, a roll of 220 that has been in the Mamiya for 5 or 6 weeks,  I headed off with the full pack and tripod. What I came back with were several point and shoot digital photos. After wandering around the new Earlysville Road/Dickerson Road intersection, a crowded black & white composition presented itself. Checked it with the cardboard viewer, set up the tripod and camera with the 210mm lens, went through my forward tilt focusing routine, calculated DOF, and headed back to the pack for a sheet of film. Wait a minute, I don't have any holders in the pack. Ooops...wait another minute, I don't have the quickloads either. All the film is still in the van, in the film bag, six or seven minutes away.

How long does it take to decide either to give up the image, or make the 15 minute round trip to fetch the film? It took me about five seconds. Not too wedded to that image, are we? This is what I got instead. And it gives me a clue as to what I should be putting together in this section of the site. I think it's going to be more immediate digital imagery that could logically be contained in a daily/occasional journal.

Really, this lesson says nothing about my preparedness, as much as it does about my poor memory. And being out of shape using the 4x5. As I learned long ago, when there are so many bits and pieces that make up the kit, most of them being required to make an image, it can be fatal to forget one piece. Several years ago I drove two hours east to Hanover County, unpacked the gear, chose my location, set up the tripod, and then realized that I didn't have the rail clamp for the Sinar. There was no point in jumping around or swearing or trying to improvise. I put everything back in the van and went looking around Richmond for a rail clamp. What a futile waste of time that was. But it taught me that I needed to create a packing list - and look at it prior to departure.

The point is that all pieces need their assigned place, and they need to be put back in that place each and every time so that they are routinely where one expects them to be when needed. At least I didn't drive away from the house without something necessary. But in this instance I had the film bag from the Sinar kit with the pack for the Linhof kit, so the film wasn't where it was supposed to be when I got on location to use the T4. It might behove me to do a mental checklist more often.