Spring hopes eternal

I have never been accused of being an optimist.

It's not that I don't want to see the best in people, believe all my decisions will be the right ones, look on the sunny side, hope for the best, glass half full, etc. I just think of myself as a pragmatist. And for every positive platitude, there is a counter-platitude. Such as, well, Murphy's Law.

On both Saturday and Sunday I grabbed my photo gear and went out for some long walks. I didn't see a lot, but did manage to make a few pinhole camera photos, with my store-bought and my home-made (will post later if anything turns out) cameras. But before I even left my property I noticed that my rhubarb plants had poked through the surface. That's three days after an eight-inch snowfall.

So that gave me a little boost, maybe spring will come, maybe it will warm up and maybe I'll be making a delicious rhubarb pie before June.

Hope springs eternal.

SIDEBAR: In 1987, I had just moved to Birmingham, Alabama. My wife and I went to the local grocers in the spring and actually found rhubarb. Taking it up to the checkout, the girl grabbed it, looked at it a bit and said, "what is this, celery?"
Canon G9, Aperture priority at f8. Three exposures, two steps apart, processed as "HDR" tone mapping in Photomatix Pro. 

What is film?

I had the privilege today to work with a group of kids (mostly kindergarten and first graders) in a pinhole photography workshop. Pinhole photography is not exactly in the mainstream of photography, so it was refreshing to introduce others to its possibilities.

The event was organized by the Dunham Tavern Museum, a local historical spot on Cleveland's near east side. It was held at the Rainey Institute, an awesome inner-city center that teaches neighborhood kids about the arts.

Anyway, Elizabeth Wantz, the Museum Manager, conducted the event. We met through my friends at LabWork (probably the best black and white lab you'll find in the U.S.). The design of the camera was simple. Elizabeth was able to get a local paint manufacturer to donate quart cans. A nail was driven in the middle side, covered with foil and taped down with masking tape, and then a small pin used to prick a hole in the foil. Black duct tape was used as a "shutter." She used photo paper as the media, cut into 4 x 5-inch pieces.

My role, as the "professional," was to show the kids what pinhole cameras could look like, and show samples of the kind of images they could produce. I did what I thought was a commendable job, using the "KISS," method and then opened the floor for questions.

One of the first questions was, "What's film?"

Damn, should have seen that one coming, given that the average age was probably seven. I did my best to explain that it was a light-sensitive chemical on plastic, or in our case, paper. I know. Huh?

So, in groups of six or so, Elizabeth and I took the students into a makeshift darkroom.  She cut the  8 x 10 sheets of photo paper into 4 x 5 pieces and handed them to the students to insert and then seal the can. The room was pretty dark but by the time each group was completed, you could distinguish shapes.

But light will find its way. Especially when, say, a youngster decides to jump up and down with LED light-up shoes, or another decides to check their cell phone.

I won't be around when the kids take their photos. I'm sure many don't get the concept that they only get one shot, and the "shutter" has to stay taped over the pinhole at all other times. I'd be real happy with a 30% success rate.

Oh, my other favorite question, "Are you really, really, really, really, really, really, really sure this will take a picture?"

Absolutely.

Photography as art

There was a long period in my career when my primary duties did not involve taking pictures. It was about a 20-year stretch. But I looked at pictures, millions of them, as part of my job as a photo editor. I’d like to think that helped me be a better photographer.

 I still took photos during that stretch, but it was mostly family, travel, etc. And I did photograph a number of assignments, especially sports, when staff manpower was low.

 In 2000 I left the newspaper business and  re-defined myself as a business co-owner in another part of the country. And while I did have to extend my skill set to some new areas, I suddenly had the opportunity to make the photos I wanted to make. I am still trying to figure out how my interpretive skills changed. But I am now free to pursue my photography as “art.”

Which brings me to, photographically speaking, what is art and what is just a really good photo? Is there a difference? How does the work of a photojournalist differ from an art photographer?

Certainly most photojournalism, straight-up news, is not art. That’s not to say that a single editorial photo can not be artistic, but other than its news/historical importance… would you hang it on your wall?

Well, yes, if it evoked an emotion within me. Art is emotion.

About five years ago our company bought a Robert Rigby made 50mm pinhole camera that took 4x5 film holders (or Polaroid). I knew what pinhole photography was, but had never dipped my toes in it.

The first time I used it I didn’t know what to expect. I made some photos on Polaroid 55 film (RIP) that produced a positive and a negative (that is sooo cool). One of the photos I made in that session (Sentinel Tree) hooked me like a Smallmouth on a hand-crafted Mayfly bug.

In my last post I mentioned the five basic elements of when I was learning the craft. Suddenly there were four: film type, film ASA, shutter speed and focal length. My aperture is fixed.

I have other photographic interests, but I'll leave those to cover later. This elemental form of photography has captured my Muse for now.

SIDEBAR: Muse or Muses from Greek mythology really doesn’t cover the visual arts (unless you include it in Tragedy). The nine generally accepted Muses were: Epic Poetry, History, Lyric Poetry, Music, Tragedy, Religious Music, Dance, Comedy and Astronomy.

So, let’s combine inspiration/visual acuity/graphic perception/mood/energy level/etc. That’s my muse. Photographica.

But wait, there’s more.

DOUBLE SIDEBAR: Saint Veronica, according to the Holy Catholic Church, is the patron saint of laundry workers and photographers. She is the one who approached Christ on his way to Golgatha and wiped his face with a towel, leaving an imprint of his face on the towel.

Two birds with one stone. Laundry worker, photographer.

I’ve been compelled to convert my small basement workshop into a part-time darkroom. I still own an enlarger. But, even more so, this space is now my workbench for constructing and modifying cameras.

I’m not sure where this will all lead, but I’m looking forward to the ride.

Taken today at our local sledding hill. Part of a style of photos I call "Reconstructions." Taken on my Canon G9, assembled in Photoshop Elements 9.

Price doesn't matter

My wife was tidying up her desk area the other day and plopped something on my desk saying, "I guess you don't need this anymore." It was the carryall for floppy disks I used at the newspaper I worked at around 1990. It made me think how much simpler (I didn't say better), photography was back then.

I'm teaching a class at the local arts center called "How to get the most out of your digital camera," This semester I have twelve students. Eleven of them own advanced DSLR's. Only one or two had ever used them out of the Auto mode.

In my early days of photography, and I'm only talking about 40 years ago, you had about five options: type of film, ASA ( the old ISO) of film, aperture, shutter speed and focal length. Our company recently purchased a Nikon D7000 digital camera. It has hundreds of options.

No wonder new DSLR owners are confused and intimidated. They spend hundreds of dollars or more on a DSLR system and then put it on AUTO and expect to be the next (your favorite photographer goes here). They seem to think that there are some secret settings they haven't discovered that will make better photos, instead of learning the photography basics, such as light, exposure and depth of field.

Sometimes simpler is better. The first thing I tell students in class is to read the camera manual. Most have not to that point. I tell them to find a quiet spot, and cozy up with their camera and manual. Start by learning what all the buttons do on the outside of the camera before you start looking at the menus. The camera manual itself can be intimidating. The D7000’s has 326 pages.

Most photographers I know use three modes: manual, aperture priority and shutter priority. Everything else is fine-tuning. But you still have to learn the basics, such as how the ISO, shutter speed and aperture are interrelated. But they don't really need to know how to use the intervalometer yet, just know what it is and that it’s there. The same holds true for dozens of other features.

But I really can’t blame the camera manufacturers for all these features. Every photographer uses their camera in a different manner and it’s nice to be able to pick and choose the settings for the picture you envision.

The problem I see, as it is with most Americans, is that they want the latest and best. Many of the cameras purchased will always be way in advance of the user. There are so many good, intermediate cameras that can produce awesome pictures, without breaking the bank.

Ultimately, it’s the person with the camera in their hands that makes the difference. To use a racing analogy – it’s not the car, it’s the nut behind the wheel.

Enjoy the photo, taken today. Canon G9, manual, 1/250th at f8 with 200 ISO, close-up function on.