Decisive Momentum

Van Dyke Prints: An Overview

2011-08-02T22:53:00.000-05:00

For a little background to these overviews, see here.
History: Introduced in 1889 by Arndt and Troos, the Van Dyke print is part of a group of iron based processes which draw on Sir John Herschel's work on the Argentotype silver-iron process developed in 1842.

Negatives: A density range of about 1.5 is suitable.

Sensitizer: Part A: 9gms ferric ammonium citrate (green) + 35ml water
Part B: 1.5gms of tartaric acid + 35ml water
Part C: 12gms silver nitrate + 35ml water
In moderate light mix A, B and C (in that order) and age for a few days before use. The solution keeps well for about a year if kept in a cool, dark place. At times, owing to trace chemicals in various supplies of ferric ammonium citrate, the sensitizer may develop a muddy precipitate after about 2/3 of solution C is mixed. This can be allowed to settle and the clear sensitizer on top used, or adding about 2.5 gms more of tartaric acid can also dissolve the precipitate. The additional tartaric acid results in a fainter or no print-out image, but the developed image looks fine.

Contrast control: Contrast control can be achieved by (a) using ferric citrate in varying proportions in Part A of the sensitizer, (b) by adding about 10 drops of a 10% solution of potassium or ammonium dichromate to 500ml of the second bath during washing. (c) printing in diffused light (with perhaps a burst of direct light at the end) also subtly affects contrast. Refer to Christopher James' book for details.

Coating the paper: Use a glass rod or hake brush to coat the paper. Once the sensitizer sets, further coats can show up as streaks, so quick coating is helpful.

Printing: Print until the image appears about a stop darker than you want the final result.

Processing: (1) Wash in distilled water or tap water with a pinch of citric acid added for 5 mins. (2)Wash in running water for two mins. (Can be toned after this point). (3) Fix in 3% sodium thiosulfate solution with .2% sodium carbonate (washing soda) for about a minute, (4) followed by a final wash in running water for 30 minutes. Hang to dry. Ironing the print with a hot iron can increase the contrast slightly and change the color.

Cyanotype: An Overview

2011-06-24T13:30:00.000-05:00

As I explore a photographic process, I will post brief summaries of its essential technical elements. These summaries are not meant to be comprehensive or to substitute for books that deal in-depth with these processes. They are more field notes for myself and might be useful for a quick lookup while working with these processes. Remember that many of these alternative processes have been around for a century and a half and more and they have evolved considerably over that time. Remember, too, that these processes were not originally meant to be used with silver or even digitally printed negatives as most modern practitioners of alternative photo processes do. There are endless variations of formulas and techniques rather than one simple "right" method as my quick overview might imply to the superficial observer. But hopefully these summaries will serve as a quick reference or encourage you to read and explore further.

History: The Cyanotype was first described by Sir John Herschel in 1842. Numerous variations on the original formula are available.

Negatives: Generally a density range of about 1.35-1.4 is okay. That is, many negatives meant for ordinary darkroom printing with diffusion enlargers can be used. I find slightly contrastier negatives with a range of about 1.5- to be more suitable when using vinegar instead of water as the developer.

Sensitizer: Solution A: 20% ferric ammonium citrate (green) solution
Solution B: 8% potassium ferricyanide solution
Store both solutions in separate bottles and mix 1:1 just before use. Solutions will keep indefinitely in sealed dark bottles. Bacteria that might grow on solution A can be filtered off.

Coating the Paper: Any non-buffered paper can be used with gelatin sizing if necessary. Alkaline environments will degrade Cyanotypes. Coat evenly with brush or glass rod under low tungsten light. Can be air dried or dried with mild heat.

Printing: Printing times can be fairly long. Check the highlights by opening the split back to see if they are a shade or two darker than you want in the print. They will lighten considerably in the wash. The shadows are not good indicators as they might begin to reverse during the printing out process.

Processing: Cyanotypes can be developed using water. But white vinegar gives slightly more midtone contrast, about a stop and a half more dynamic range and a sharper print. But vinegar tends to tint the highlights light blue instead of pure white. I have found a 1:1 mixture of white vinegar and distilled water to give the best balance between retaining highlights and a longer tonal range. Develop by agitating in a tray for 45 secs to one minute and then put in a running water wash for 5 minutes. Hang to dry. A 0.3% bath of hydrogen peroxide (1+10 sol of commonly available 3% hydrogen peroxide solution and water) just before the final wash will oxidize the print to a deep blue. This is not necessary as the print will slowly oxidize in the air as it dries, but the peroxide bath lets you see the final color at once.

Toning: Tea or coffee or tannic acid can be used to tone cyanotypes. Bleaching with a solution of one tablespoon of sodium carbonate (washing soda) per liter of water solution before toning is said to reduce staining effects but I have not yet found a satisfactory method to produce repeatable results while toning cyanotypes.

The Keepers of Light: Book Review

2011-06-06T13:02:00.000-05:00

This book takes its subtitle - "A History and Working Guide to Early Photographic Processes" - quite seriously. It is as much a history of early photography as it is a practical guide to early processes. So, while most handbooks for these processes have a bit of history included for 'background' as a matter of course, Crawford dedicates the major chunk of the book to a detailed, sustained and quite insightful history of early photography. The practical guide to these processes is quite competent but it is almost an afterthought after the exhilarating tour-de-force of the first section of the book on the development of photography from its earliest days to well into the age of the silver gelatin print in the first half of the twentieth century.

I have always found most histories of photography to be quite tedious. They usually read like a long list of dates and developments and brief backgrounds of the persons associated with them. This approach is akin to the older sort of history as a narrative of the rise and fall of kingdoms and rulers - a history based around personalities and a more or less linear notion of progress. But Crawford takes a leaf out of newer historians who write social history not as a linear narrative but as a 'genealogy' of inter-related strands perpetually interacting with each other - 'history from below.' Of course, he isn't writing with the grand developments within academic historiography in mind, but his approach makes this a very apt comparison.

The Keepers of Light lays out the evolution of what Crawford calls the 'syntax' of photography. The first chapter uses the examples of traditional printmaking and painting very effectively to lay out what exactly constitutes a 'syntax' for a visual medium. The parallels to modern theories of linguistics and semiotics are unavoidable and Crawford uses them very effectively to illustrate his point that every visual medium has a basic 'vocabulary' and 'ordering pattern' which combine to produce a coherent 'meaning' for the observer. This can be constituted of the most basic elements like the direction and thickness of strokes in an etching or the overall formal and technical limits of a medium. And the syntax of a medium can emphasize particular elements like form, texture, tone etc at the cost of others. Crawford argues that even though photography is sometimes seen to be a medium without a syntax - a process that merely reflects the world and is therefore in a direct and 'natural' correspondence with it - in fact each particular photographic process is strictly governed by a syntax. Every detail of the process - the tone, the detail, the reproducibility, even the duration of exposure required or things like generic conventions contribute towards the syntax. Together they define the limits and possibilities of the medium, how it produces the photographic artifact and how we, as the audience, make sense of that artifact. If anything, the photographic process is so intimately tied up with technology that the limits and possibilities of the syntax must be confronted every step of the way.

Thus Crawford sets out to write a history of early photography not as a history of linear events, but as one of the evolution of the photographic syntax. Part I of the book, divided into 12 chapters, traces this evolution in terms of changing conventions, demands and technical challenges that forced nineteenth century photography to constantly develop and evolve. The result is a breathtaking history which makes the twentieth century or even the fast pace of recent change with the emergence of digital seem quite tame by comparison. In doing so, it returns the reader to the sense of awestruck wonder that the practitioners of photography or its first audiences and consumers might have felt. To capture a veritable image of the world on a sheet of paper - as if not made by man but by Nature herself - this is something the magical, awesome quality of which we have lost sight of. We with our oh-so-sophisticated cameras, our 51 point autofocus and our MTF charts - even those of us who think of ourselves as 'traditionalists', use older film cameras and obsess over the zone system and sharpness. All of this is mere trifle compared to the wonder - the very sorcery - of the crude image of Paris rooftops on Niepce's bitumen covered glass. And isn't that why so many try alternative processes? To discover a hint of that magic, the discovery of the new world, the first step on the moon? It is akin to the jaded business traveler ticking off his air miles discovering the struggle that went into man's conquest of flight - from the myth of Icarus to the Wright brothers.

And the syntax is not merely a thing-in-itself - a mere description of the technical boundaries of a process. It lives in and interacts with the world in a way an unilinear perception of 'progress' cannot grasp. Thus the Daguerrotype reigned supreme since its introduction in 1839 for a couple of decades. Technically it was capable of producing results that would satisfy the zone system or sharpness junkie of more than a century later. But there were both socio-cultural and technical demands that its syntax couldn't satisfy. Crawford traces how the more painterly rendering of the Calotype and other processes proved more pleasing to an age for which photography had not been established as a completely unique and independent medium and the reproducibility of negative images proved too strong a technical demand to resist. So the syntax moved on, it evolved, it responded to demands.

It is in conceiving of the history of photography as the history of this dialog between form and content, between demand and response that Crawford's approach is so refreshing and unique. It is full of insightful detail accompanied by vignettes and bits of humor that are all the more charming because they do not quite fit with Crawford's somber academic style. Consider for example, the following revelation: "Subjects in early daguerrotypes frequently sit with one hand supporting the chin. They look like deep thinkers: They were actually concentrating on not moving their heads" (9). Similarly delightful are his observations on the limitations imposed by technique and form on content: for example, the depopulated cityscapes in early long-exposure Calotypes, or how the exposure limitations of certain processes dictated the look of many early street photos. Amusing and astonishing, too, are vignettes about the crisis in egg supply when factories were consuming 60,000 or more eggs per day to coat albumen paper or the fact that there were studios in the 1860s churning out over 1,000 copies from a negative per day! All of this leads to a history of photography down to the period of dominance of the silver gelatin print that is truly novel in approach and eye-opening in detail.

I have spent most of this 'review' on Part I of the book. This isn't unintentional because that is the part I found most compelling. The other two parts constitute a practical guide to some of the major processes and techniques of preservation. They are chock-full of detail and great for anyone wanting to try it out, but there are relatively few illustrations and some of the materials and sources from this 1979 book have obviously fallen out of date. For a pure practical guide, perhaps more recent books like Barnier's or James' might be better, or even one of the many internet sources for quick summaries of processes. But Crawford's basic introduction to sensitometry (while a little advanced in that it tends to assume familiarity with conventional darkroom sensitometry) and technique is very helpful. In other words, buy another book if you want merely a DIY guide, but definitely read this book if you want a perspective that will change the way you look at photography - not only its past, but even its present.

Crawford, William. The Keepers of Light: A History and Working Guide to Early Photographic Processes. New York: Morgan & Morgan, 1979.

Alternative Photographic Processes: A Bibliography

2011-05-30T07:52:00.000-05:00

Here is a general bibliography on alternative photographic processes. I will keep adding to it as I come upon more resources and, over time, will put up more detailed reviews of titles I get to know well enough. If you have more suggestions to add to the list, please let me know.

Anderson, Christina. Alternative Processes Condensed: A Manual of Gum Bichromate and Other Contact Printing Processes. Self-published.
Arentz, Dick. Platinum and Palladium Printing. St. Louis: Focal Press, 1999.
Barnier, John. Coming into Focus: A Step-by-Step Guide to Alternative Photographic Printing Processes. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2000.
Blacklow, Laura. New Dimensions in Photo Processes: A Step by Step Manual for Alternative Techniques. 4th Edition. St. Louis: Focal Press, 2007.
Burkholder, Dan. Making Digital Negatives for Contact Printing. Bladed Iris Press, 1999.
Coe, Brian. A Guide to Early Photographic Processes. London: Victoria and Albert Museum, 1984.
Crawford, William. The Keepers of Light: A History and Working Guide to Early Photographic Processes. New York: Morgan & Morgan, 1979. [REVIEW]
Enfield, Jill. Photo Imaging: A Complete Visual Guide to Alternative Techniques and Processes. New York: Amphoto Books, 2002.
Eshbaugh, Mark L. Alternative Photography Processes: A Worker's Guide. Self-Published.
Farber, Richard. Historic Photographic Processes. New York: Allworth Press, 1998.
Greene, Alan. Primitive Photography: A Guide to Making Cameras, Lenses and Calotypes. St. Louis: Focal Press, 2001.
Hewitt, Barbara. Blueprints on Fabric: Innovative uses for Cyanotype. Pub Overstock Unlimited Inc, 1995.
Hinkel, Brad & Ron Reeder. Digital Negatives: Using Photoshop to Create Digital Negatives for Silver and Alternative Process Printing. St. Louis: Focal Press, 2006.
James, Christopher. The Book of Alternative Photographic Processes. 2nd Ed. Clifton Park, NY: Delmar Cengage Learning, 2008.
Keuren, Sarah Van. A Non-Silver Manual: Cyanotype, Vandyke Brown, Palladium & Gum Bichromate with Instructions for Making Light-Resists Including Pinhole Photography. 3rd Edition. Self-Published, 2004.
Koenig, Karl. Gumoil Photographic Printing. St. Louis: Focal Press, 1999.
Oelbaum, Zeva. The Natural World in Cyanotype Photos. Rizzoli International Publications, 2002.
Rexer, Lyle. Photography's Antiquarian Avant-Garde: The New Wave in Old Processes. Harvey N. Abrams: 2002.
Sanderson, Andrew. Handcolouring and Alternative Darkroom Processes. Rotovision: 2002.
Scopick, David. The Gum Bichromate Book: Non-Silver Methods for Photographic Printmaking. St. Louis: Focal Press, 1991.
Spence, Ray & Tony Worobiec. Beyond Monochrome: A Fine Art Printing Workshop. Voyageur Press, 2000.
Stevens, Dick. Making Kallitypes: A Definitive Guide. St. Louis: Focal Press, 1993.
Webb, Randall. Spirits of Salts: A Working Guide to Old Photographic Processes. London: Argentum, 1999.
Ware, Mike. Cyanotype: The History, Science and Art of Photographic Printing in Prussian Blue. London: Science Museum, 1999.
Watkins, Derek. Bromoil: A Foundation Course. Photographers' Institute Press, 2006.
Webb, Randall and Martin Reed. Alternative Photographic Processes: A Working Guide for Image Makers. Silver Pixel Press, 2000.

Web Resources:

Hacking St. Ansel: A Homemade Densitometer

2011-04-20T16:42:00.000-05:00

If, like me, you are still holding fast and shooting some film amidst the digital deluge, chances are you have delusional visions about Saint Ansel going forth and spreading the the light of the pure craft of photography (the light, of course, is divided into zones neatly marked I-X). But pure or not, the craft of analogue photography requires quite a bit of exactness and repeatability to give optimum results and for this, testing film and developer combinations often becomes necessary. But the one thing that hindered me most from really testing my film and having sleepless nights over geeky things like N-1 development was the lack of - or rather the cost of - a densitometer. I know those things cost a lot less than they used to - a few hundred instead of a few thousand several years back - but they are still expensive and bulky beasts. But not to be discouraged from my vision of photographic nirvana, I managed to put together a kit that cost me all of $30 - and can conceivably be done for less. NASA wouldn't trust their pictures of space aliens to its vagaries, nor perhaps would Adams be satisfied with the texture of the moon over Hernandez had he used this contraption, but at the moment it works for me.

For this densitometer I use the cheap photodiodes easily available at Radioshack or any other electronics store. It cost me about $2 for a handful of them. Next, I cut a small square piece of cardboard about 3x3 inches to form the base of my densitometer. Take a diode and bend its legs outward at right angles near the middle so as to form a small inverted 'T' with the light sensor at the top and the legs sticking out on each side. Two pieces of tape should be enough the stick the legs of the diode to the cardboard. Black electricians tape works well for me. Once you have done this you should have the inverted T standing on the board with the sensor sticking out. Now, we need something resembling an empty cylinder with a small hole on top to cover this so that there is only one inlet for light reaching the diode. This is easily made by cutting a small circle in the base of an opaque film canister - I made mine using a plastic reloadable film cassette with the center spool removed. This has the advantage of having a ready made hole in it. After you are done, you should have a structure that allows light to reach the photodiode only from a hole on the top and the two arms of the diode should be protruding from the sides.

Now onto the more interesting bit. As the intensity of light falling on the diode changes, so does the resistance that can be measured by sticking the sensors of a cheap multimeter (I prefer the digital ones) to the ends of that diode. How does this translate into film densities? Well, if you think of the formula for film densities its the difference of logarithms and not tied to any units. So put your 'densitometer' under a steady and relatively bright source of light. An enlarger works fine but I just use a table lamp for this. With full light falling on the sensor take a resistance reading - say the reading is 6. Now hold a piece of unexposed but fully developed film over the hole. The intensity of the light reaching the sensor decreases and the resistance correspondingly increases to 9, say. So now you have your filmbase + fog density which is log 9 - log 6. It's that simple, really. Now, hold a negative that you have exposed at zone 1 over the hole and say the reading changes to 12 - you can now easily calculate the density as log 12 - log 6 and then subtract your Fb+F density from it to get your zone 1 density.

But that is not the end of the story. The chief drawback of this setup is that even though it's quite accurate for the lower densities around zone one, the resistance curve of the cheap photodiode is not linear. That is to say, as the light reaching it decreases the increase in resistance is not quite proportional. As a consequence you will get lower readings than expected for higher densities like zone 8. A simple way around this problem is to 'calibrate' your densitometer. You will need either one of the calibrated step wedges that Stouffer, Kodak and perhaps others make. Or you can get by if someone with a densitometer just agrees to read a strip of film exposed by you at various densities. If you have a set of known densities, it is then easy to read those in our meter and find out by how much the reading is 'off'. So if you know that a particular strip has a density of 1.1 above Fb+F and your meter is coming up with 1 then you know that at that density the reading needs to be 'corrected' by 10 percent. I do all of this in a quick spreadsheet so it's easy to keep track of. Once you have read a set of densities and noted their correction factor, your densitometer is good to go on it's own. It's definitely accurate enough for the purposes of film-developer tests and produces repeatable results. Finally, I might mention that this setup works great if you are exposing a test roll of 35mm film - be sure to hold the negative over the light hole for a few seconds for the multi-meter reading to stabilize.

DIY Quick Release Plates, or, How to Put a $5 Camera on a $500 Tripod!

2011-04-20T16:40:00.000-05:00

If you have a lot of plastic and toy cameras and like me want to use some of them as pinholes or use them on bulb mode for long exposures, then you've probably tried to device ways of putting them on a tripod. If the tripod quick-release system you are using is something like the Arca-Swiss then the cost of plates at about $50 or more a pop can become a major concern - especially on cameras which usually cost under $5!

I used Bogen's clamp system for a while and now use the Arca-Swiss system. They both share the same basic design although the sizes vary widely. The only pieces of equipment I wont put on a tripod without solid metal plates are my 'real' cameras - the Chamonix 4x5, and µ4/3 Panasonic. But for most of my other cameras (I never seem to shoot rangefinders from a tripod, somehow) I have devised a simple way of making my own plates - modeling clay!

It's available from most art supply stores. I recommend the kind that hardens on baking. Cut out a block that has approximately the cross-sectional dimensions of your quick release plates but is slightly larger. For Arca style plates this should be about 38mm wide at the bottom, with 45 degree angles and at least 3mm high. That's it - that's the basic Arca-Swiss design. Beyond that you can put in whatever improvisations, anti-twist lips and other cool Really Right Stuff tricks. Now to do the fine shaping, open your clamp as wide as possible, slide the slice of clay in and tighten it gently. The clamp will act as a mold to shape the clay. I suggest spraying the clamp with a bit of talcum powder before you put the clay in so that it doesn't stick or get distorted when you take it out. Now put it in the oven and bake it as per the instructions. And voila! You have a quick release plate to fit the Arca-Swiss clamp that's perfectly suited for cheap and light cameras. If you have a sander bit for a dremel tool, you can also sand out any imperfections.

Most of these cameras don't have tripod mounts, so I just stick them to the camera with epoxy glue and allow it to set - works great. But it's easy to go one better and install a tripod mount. Just buy a 1/4"-20 hexagonal nut and embed it in the middle of the plate while soft. You can put a longer 1/4"-20 screw through this to mount to a tripod socket, if your camera has one. Bake the whole contraption together.

Remember, do not use these plates for any heavy and/or valuable equipment! Scrounge on EBay until you find the proper Kirk or RRS plates. But for having fun with cheap cameras, this method works for me!

Metering by Eye

2009-10-11T01:59:00.019-05:00

Light is the basic element of photography, just as sound is that of music. A good photographer should be as familiar with light as the good musician is with notes and scales. Photography is, at its core, based on a very simple principle. An image of the world is captured by allowing a certain amount of light to fall on a piece of photosensitive material. Whether the photosensitive material in question is a silicon chip, silver film, glass plate or salted paper, this elegant little concept holds. Whether or not the light is shaped by the latest cutting edge in glass and coating technology, an old brass lens or indeed a humble pinhole, the same principles apply. The crucial questions of how much light reaches the photosensitive material and in what ways that amount may be controlled go to the very essence of photographic technique – the determination of exposure.

“Reading the light” or “metering by eye” can be easily mastered with a little practice, yet most photographers leave this central photographic decision almost entirely to their camera. Of course, camera meters work, but it helps to know precisely how a camera sets exposure and what a particular process' limitations are – in other words it is useful to know when to disagree with the camera and to take control of exposure decisions. But many new photographers think metering is some unfathomable mystical art best left to eccentric geniuses and pieces of silicon. Camera companies have done their bit towards obfuscating the issue by bragging about the wonders of “35 area evaluated metering,” “3D matrix metering,” “40 segment multi pattern metering” and such. These modes can indeed be powerful and useful tools for the right job but they don't yet supplant the intelligent photographer's brain. So let's try to lay out a practical approach to metering by eye, or being able to set the correct exposure without the help of a light meter. I shall assume that the reader is familiar with the basics of photographic exposure and can use a light meter efficiently (although I'll deal with those basic issues in a later article).

LV and EV: Ways to Think About Light
For the purposes of figuring out incident light levels we will try to think in something called LV or “light values.” LVs are a sequence of numbers representing intensity of light. Each number is double the previous one and half the next one – i.e. they are on a logarithmic scale. Thus LV 11 denotes twice the amount of light than LV 10 and only half the amount of light compared to LV 12. This might remind you of the f-stop scale and that is exactly what we are going to think of the LV scale as. Henceforth we will think of LV values in terms of “stops of light” - thus we could say LV 10 is two stops below LV 12 and so forth.

To avoid confusion, we might briefly mention EV here (although you won't need it for our purposes of metering by eye). EV, or exposure value, which you will see on many light meters, refers to particular exposure levels which can be achieved by certain aperture shutter combinations. For example EV 15 can be 1/100 at f16 which is the equivalent of 1/200 at f11 or 1/400 at f8 and so forth. All of these shutter-aperture combinations result in the same level of exposure (although the depth of field will differ, of course) and are designated by EV 15. If you notice we have not yet taken account of the sensitivity of the film or sensor – i.e. the ISO value which is the other major factor that influences exposure. So naturally as ISO varies, the same EV shutter aperture combination will produce different levels of final exposure. So while for bright sunlight EV 15 will be the correct exposure for ISO 100, the same exposure will be produced by EV 16 for ISO 200 or EV 13 for ISO 25 etc. Key point: EV numbers change with changing ISO.

LV numbers, on the other hand refer simply to the level of light and don't take into account the specifics of photographic exposure. Thus, they provide a better and more uniform way to think about light levels. If you familiarize yourself with the LV scale you can see a certain amount of light and immediately think of its LV value whether or not you have ISO 1600 or ISO 100 set on your camera. This separation of light levels and specific exposure factors like ISO-aperture-shutter has its advantages.

How do LV and EV numbers relate (or, another technicality you might want to ignore)? Well, they are exactly the same for ISO 100. But if the ISO changes to anything else, EV numbers naturally change while LV remains constant. If you figure the ISO in terms of an offset from 100 in number of stops then you can get EV by adding that number to the LV value: EV=LV+offset. A couple of examples will make this clear. Let's say you have ISO 400 film – that's two stops more sensitive than 100. So the EV value would be LV+2. If it's bright sun, the LV value is 15 and the EV value is 17. For ISO 50, the offset will be -1. So the corresponding EV value would be 15+(-1)=14. If this seems too complicated, ignore it – in fact, totally ignore EV for the moment and think of light only in terms of LV.

Recognizing LV values
Bright sunlight – that is, LV 15 - and that is our first cornerstone. Silly though it might seem, familiarize yourself with bright sunlit conditions - how intense is it, what kind of shadows does it cast? We will learn to think of other light levels in terms of how they differ in intensity from bright sun. And once you have mastered LV 15, think of everything else in terms of how many stops of light darker (in very few cases brighter) it is compared to bright sun. The best way to master this is to walk around for a couple of days with a light meter or even a camera with a meter. Whenever you see a new light level – take a guess how many stops below bright sun it would be and cross-check against your meter. Cloudy? That's maybe 2 stops below (LV 13). You will be surprised how fast this can be picked up.

Once you know your bright sun, there is another light level that I recommend familiarizing yourself with thoroughly – that of a moderately well-lit indoor setting. This is definitely harder to define in any concrete manner, so a light meter will definitely help. Look for LV 5 – or 10 stops below bright sun. It should be a about the light level of a moderate sized room lit with a 100 watt bulb. Once you find it, familiarize yourself with it fully, because it is much easier to think of night exposures as offsets from this instead of from bright sunlight. A brightly lit hall? A stop above – so EV 6. A lamplit street? Two stops below – so EV 3.

Converting LV Values to Exposure Settings
You may know the “sunny 16 rule” which says that in bright sun the correct exposure is 1/ISO value. So if you have ISO 250 film you'd set f16 at 1/250. What happens when your light is, say, four stops below bright sun – or EV 11. You can simply take the f16 at 1/250 combination and “open up” four stops. This can mean opening up the aperture or slowing down the shutter or a combination of both. So open up to f4 and keep 1/250; or alternatively keep f16 and slow your shutter to 1/15; or open aperture two stops to f8 and shutter two stops to 1/60. The combinations don't matter – as long as you “open up” the requisite number of stops. So, always start with the ISO value of your film/sensor for your shutter speed and f16 and then calculate how much you want to open up each. This implies of course that you are totally familiar with the aperture and shutter speed scales. That f2.8 is five stops from f16 or that 1/8 is 5 stops from 1/250 should be second nature – as much a reflex as scales under a pianist's finger. Fortunately, you'll find mastering this set of apertures and shutter speeds - if you don't already know them well - is much easier than learning to play the piano! Once this is accomplished, setting exposures for any LV will not be a problem. Let's say you're shooting in a relatively well lit restaurant that you think is LV 6. You have ISO 500 set on your digital camera and a fast f1.4 lens. However, you would like as much DOF as possible but don't want to handhold below 1/30. You need a total of 9 stops below bright sun. So set shutter to 1/30. That's 4 stops. The other 5 stops you'll need to get from aperture – so set it to f2.8 and presto!

In the age of advanced camera meters this might seem tedious and way too complicated at first. But just like synth-loops haven't put good drummers out of a job yet, the good photographer will know exactly when the meter can handle a scene and when to take control. I'll end with an ordinary example. This shot was made very hastily indeed. I saw these cool looking guys walking unconsciously in formation lost in the latest football news and had only a few quick seconds to frame, focus, set exposure and shoot. This is exactly the kind of scene where you want the quick automation of a modern intelligent camera meter, right? Wrong! Not because the meter isn't competent – but because it simply can't read my mind. There's more than one way to shoot this scene, surely. What if I wanted to have the street perfectly exposed for bright sun and have the guys looking like cool silhouettes? Most old camera meters would be “fooled” by the bright background and do just that. But it's not a question of getting fooled – it's about knowing the intention of the photographer. No matter what the camera companies tell us – there is not just one "correct exposure" of a scene. The exposure depends on the photographer's intended interpretation – just like this scene would work with at least three or four different exposure levels and produce four different interpretations. So unless they make a camera that plugs into a USB jack behind my ear to pick up what my brain is thinking, the camera meter simply doesn't know what effect I am going for. So even if you have a fancy meter, knowing the ins and outs of exposure will let you tell it just what to do (by setting the amount of compensation you want, for example). For me in this scene it involved a couple of quick and simple steps. I wanted to expose for the guys' faces but not totally blow out the background. I know that in bright sun, full shade is almost four stops less bright. So I decided to go for 3 stops below LV 15 (underexpose their faces by a stop at most but hold as much detail as possible in the background). So with ISO 250 film, I set my aperture to f8 and shutter to 1/125 – three stops – click!

Albumen Prints: An Overview

2008-09-10T19:21:00.007-05:00

For a little background to these overviews, see here.

History: First introduced by Louis-Desiree Blanquart-Evrard in 1850, albumen printing was the dominant photographic process for most of the second half of the nineteenth century.

Negatives: A density range of 2.0 to 2.5 is good.

Preparing the albumen: 500ml of egg whites (no yolk or white stringy bits) + 1ml glacial acetic acid + 15gm ammonium chloride + 15ml distilled water. Stir briskly until it turns into a froth. Cover container and refrigerate for 24 hrs. Remove the froth on the top and filter the liquid through cheesecloth. Age in refrigerator for a week or more.

Coating the paper: Coat by floating for 3 mins and hang to dry. To double coat, the albumen needs to be hardened. This can be done by steaming, heating to about 150F with a hot iron under a protective board, or dipping in a 500ml 70% isopropyl alcohol + 15gm ammonium chloride bath.

Sensitizing the paper: Either float, brush or use glass rod to coat with 12% silver nitrate solution under safelight. Sensitized paper does not keep well. Floating works best but results in albumen contaminating the sensitizer solution. To maintain the silver nitrate solution over a long time, add 1.5 gm kaolin per 100ml of solution. The kaolin is insoluble powder that absorbs the impurities and settles at the bottom. After every use, shake up the kaolin and let it settle overnight. Decant or siphon off clear solution before next use. Replenish the amount of solution used up with a 24% solution of silver nitrate.

Exposure: Expose until the shadows begin to bronze (maximum density) or for thinner negatives, the highlights are 1 to 1.5 stops darker than desired. Direct sun gives less contrast than diffused light.

Processing: (1) Wash 5-10mins until there is no milkiness in the running water. (Can be toned at this point). (2) Fix in 75gm sodium thiosulfate + 1gm sodium carbonate (washing soda) + 500ml water. Two fixing baths of 4mins each is recommended. (3) Immerse in 1% sodium sulfite solution for 3mins as a hypo clearing bath. (4) Wash for 30mins. Squeegee and hang to dry.

Using a DSLR as a Shutter-Tester

2008-07-23T19:12:00.001-05:00

What good is a DSLR if you can't test the shutter of your Holga with it? Ok, I'm kidding, but there is a fairly simple way to use a DSLR as a shutter speed tester for any lens that has a leaf shutter. In fact, with a little care, this method can be used to test practically any shutter. Don't expect pinpoint accuracy or rush to put your lab equipment on eBay, but this method should be accurate to within at least a third of a stop - certainly good enough for average everyday use.

Think for a moment what a shutter does. It is simply a way to block the path of light falling on the film/sensor and then to remove that blockage for a certain known amount of time to let light fall on the film/sensor. It's a pretty simple concept really - a mechanized and repeatable version of the old hat-on-lens technique. Problem is, shutter speeds go off - they slow down, they speed up and do all sorts of funny things. Often, as in the case of mechanical marvels like the Holga, they are simply unknown, or vary from camera to camera. But if there is one good thing to be said of modern electronically controlled shutters in DSLRs and or other electronic thingamagigs, it is that they are remarkably accurate and consistent. So let's get about measuring a mechanical shutter by directly comparing it to the known shutter speeds of a DSLR.

Our first task would be to mount whatever lens/camera/shutter we want to test in front of a DSLR. Now, we don't need to focus anything or permanently mount anything. We just need to make sure that we can hold our shutter in front of the DSLR in such a way that when the shutter is closed (and the DSLR's shutter is open), no light reaches the sensor. We also, however, need to make sure that nothing sticks into the body of the DSLR so that we don't end up damaging the moving mirror. This can be done in a few ways, but the easiest for me was to use a hollow extension tube (or set of tubes) used for macro photography. I used a Nikon PK-13, mounted a BR-2a reversing ring on it and then used a simple hollow black tube that is available for less than $5 at camerafilters.com. You can use whatever you have handy - the basic idea is to provide a reasonable bit of distance between the shutter and the DSLR's body. Once done, the setup should resemble the picture on the right (I used a film body in the pictures, because I was using the digital body to make the pictures).

Now, point the whole setup towards something reasonably bright, uniform in color and preferably near middle gray in tone - a wall, the sidewalk, distant trees and the sky all work well. Nothing needs to be in focus - in fact, we want things as blurry as possible. Now the optical path has two shutters obstructing the light - the shutter to be tested, and the focal plane shutter of the DSLR. Light will reach the sensor only when both shutters are open. If we hold open either shutter in bulb mode, the other shutter's speed will be the sole determinant of the amount of light reaching the sensor. Quickly test that the optical path is truly light-tight by keeping the shutter to be tested closed and holding the DSLR's shutter open for a few seconds. If no stray light reaches the sensor, you will get a spike at the far left of the histogram as in the first histogram of the screen-capture to the right.

So now, let's put the DSLR on bulb (having a locking remote release is helpful) and fire the shutter to be tested. If you look at the resulting histogram you will see a sharp localized spike at one point. Adjust the ISO (if the lens you are testing has an aperture iris, you can also adjust that - just make sure nothing changes throughout the test) so that the spike is somewhere along the middle like the second histogram in the illustration and we are all set. Note the position of this histogram and now put the shutter on bulb and make a series of exposures with the DSLR shutter around the speed you are testing. So if you are testing to see whether the speed that says 1/100 on your shutter is accurate, then do the following:

Make the first exposure with the DSLR on bulb and with the shutter you are testing fired at the 1/100 setting.
Now, put the shutter being tested on bulb and make exposures with the DSLR at 1/200, 1/160, 1/125, 1/100, 1/80, 1/60, 1/50.

Each exposure is a third of a stop more than the previous one. If you observe the histogram, you will notice that the spike gradually travels to the right as you increase exposure. Try to pick out the one that has the spike closest to the one in the first frame - that is your shutter speed. Simple.

A word about RGB histograms. You don't need to bother with them for the test. If your subject is middle gray and your white balance is set correctly, your RGB spikes will be more-or-less at the same point, otherwise just use any of the channels or the combined histogram. In this test we are just comparing exposure times by comparing the amounts of light let in by either shutter, so as long as every other factor is consistent between those two exposures, we should do fine.

So that is it. Once you try it out, it's a pretty simple test and you should be all set to make precise exposures on Velvia with your Holga. Have fun!

Where Have All the Flowers Gone, or, Why I Miss Closeups

2008-05-02T13:54:00.006-05:00

Every photographer should try shooting nature closeups sometime! Outrageous, I know. Might as well suggest that it is the sacred duty of every budding shutterbug to make portraits of domesticated felines, or shoot oversaturated sunsets. But bear with me for a second. When I started doing photography seriously I had no interest in insects, none! Not even the more conventional interest in pretty flower shots. My foray into macro photography was the result of circumstances. I didn't have a car at the time, and I found that nature's grandeur was somewhat limited on the regular bus routes. But there was a meadow and a small lake nearby with lots of lovely plants ... and butterflies - pretty butterflies. So I tried shooting some pictures with my new zoom, but strangely not much came out. Admittedly I was a beginner all around, and my portraits or street photographs, too, were not likely to be mistaken for undiscovered Karsh or Cartier-Bresson. But y'know, if I took a shot of my friend Jack you could pretty much tell that it was my friend Jack lazing on the sofa. Same with the corner grocery store. But my shots of insects looked like I had sneezed while trying to photograph a Jackson Pollock painting - they were blurry blobs of color.

So I asked some questions on the internet, got a book, and then a couple more. Form-over-content and all that was fine, but this one needed to be cracked. An assortment of lenses and other gizmos followed and the summer saw countless rolls of film before my insects actually looked like the homely winged arthropods without artistic ambition that they were. I eventually found that while shooting at high magnifications isn't that big a deal once you got the basics right, it is nevertheless one of the most technically demanding kinds of photography that you can do with a small format camera. Closeup photography requires you to have good technique and a passing grasp of the theory. As a beginner, this can be a good thing - it's like a crash course in photographic technique. Over my first summer of doing closups, I gradually started to gain an understanding of photographic theory and technique that would perhaps have taken much longer for me to grasp otherwise. Two things in particular helped. Being on a student budget forced me to improvise and use optical gems dredged up from eBay instead of buying the latest greatest macro kit on offer that month. I found that good macro photography can be done with a wide variety of equipment, from old unloved lenses for 8mm and 16mm movie cameras to the latest macro lenses to some astoundingly expensive lenses made for scientific photography. I also made a couple of online friends whose work set the right kind of example to emulate. So, mission accomplished, I was a technically better photographer ready to move on to better things. Later, when I moved to medium and large format cameras, the transition was almost seamless because of the skills I had acquired doing macro photography manually. If you gain nothing else out of macro photography, you will gain a better understanding of photographic technique when you decide to move on. But I hope you will tarry.

That winter, I did other kinds of photography, discovering the black and white darkroom for the first time. And though it was exciting, I found I still missed the meadow. I missed waking up in the morning to catch the first bus with a bagful of gear, tripod in hand. I missed crawling on the ground, my clothes all wet and muddied, trying to get close to that dew covered hoverfly resting on the tip of a blade of grass. Making that perfectly composed and focused shot remains a thrill for every photographer, but it was much more than that that I had come to love about closups. Having grown up bang in the middle of the urban jungle, I had never really discovered nature except through the detached eyes of a "tourist." And suddenly, just under my feet, there was this whole microcosm - this whole world of beauty and color, the joy of life and the struggle, oh! the violent struggle to cling on to that life. I who had always had to look at a calendar to tell the seasons could suddenly tell what month it was from the color of the damselflies I found in the meadow! It was partly the thrill of the hunter stalking his prey, and partly the awestruck wonder of the naturalist. I think of photographing insects as wildlife photography in miniature - it requires stealth and tact. I could feel my skills at spotting camouflaged insects improve over time and with practice I managed to get closer and closer to them without causing alarm. But once you are perfectly positioned and have everything lined up, you look through the viewfinder into a vastly different world. Many of my best photographic experiences shooting insects didn't even result in successful photographs - maybe the insect flew off, maybe the breeze was too strong. But you stop caring as you almost start to communicate with that little blob of a creature climbing up a blade of grass, looking around, frantically wiping the dewdrops from its eyes and wings as it waits to catch the first rays of the sun to warm itself. At that point you no longer care about exposure or focus or sharpness or bokeh - you are merely a spectator in this minute but yet so vast theater of life.

So let me end with an old old shot that didn't work out as a photograph but was a once in a lifetime "photographic experience."

I spotted this little fella on a blade of grass and very carefully set up my tripod and got the shot framed. There was a bit of wind, so I waited. The light was also flat and I was hoping the rays of the early morning sun would add just enough punch to the photograph. The sunrays were rapidly advancing across the meadow and would be there in a few seconds, the wind was dying down as well. As I waited, I watched the little chap wipe the dew drops off its eyes as it warmed up and got ready for another day in this beautiful world that was the meadow. His every movement became immensely pronounced on my focusing screen and as I enjoyed the scene, I thought at the back of my mind how many stops might I need to compensate once the sunlight touched that blade of grass.

Soon enough, the light touched his wing and the dew drops on it sparkled, he got ready to move as soon as the light had drunk the droplets dry and I was about to trip the shutter before he did. Suddenly, out of nowhere there was a flutter and a buzz and the image in my viewfinder got blurry. It was a yellow jacket - it had probably caught a glimpse of the same sparkle that I had been waiting for and swooped in for the kill. The butterfly tried to hold on but the savagery of the wasp was indescribable. After a moment's struggle it tore its victim apart and flew away with shreds of wing and leg still sticking to the dewy grass. Even though I had been witness to this struggle I had not managed to trip the shutter.

And so I only have this serene, strangely beautiful portrait of the last moments of a butterfly in the early morning in flat light and slight wind, while waiting to make the perfect photograph. Most of us have watched the awesome fury of nature's predators on the telly - the galloping cheetah or the striking shark, but I am sure few have witnessed such fury on a cold morning in a misty meadow. So, I miss shooting closeups.

Far have I travelled, and long
At great expense, to lands unknown
To gaze across oceans, and mountains to view.

Yet my eyes have not known
But two steps from home
A blade of grass, a drop of dew.
-Rabindranath Tagore [Apologies for my hurried translation from Bengali]

Film: A Beginner's Guide

2008-05-01T16:07:00.004-05:00

An old friend just asked me for a film recommendation. She got a DSLR recently, made a few nice photographs, converted a few to black and white, got to wondering what real black and white film is like, dug out an old family Minolta SLR - and here we are. I thought that a lot of people who have started out with digital photography and never experienced film might be in a similar position. The terminology surrounding various types of films, formats and processes can be a little confusing and daunting - it was for me when I started, even though it was before digital photography exploded on the scene. So here's a quick rundown for the rank newcomer to film. Any advanced photographer will, of course, find this full of generalizations and simplifications, and the beginner should note that the techniques surrounding film photography are a vast subject. It ranges from the extremely precise to the seemingly mystical but is always fascinating. I hope you will find this little write-up an adequate and reassuring first step into the magical world of film photography.

Film formats: Film comes in various shapes and sizes. Most people are used to SLR type cameras that use 35mm film but other types of film are quite common as well. Here's a rundown of the most common formats.

35mm: The most common film type often referred to as 135 film in catalogs etc. It usually comes in metal canisters and has sprocket holes on both sides and 35mm cameras make an image on it that is 36mmx24mm in size. This size is also the standard for "full frame" against which "crop factors" of DSLRs are measured. Though this is overwhelmingly the most common size, there is of course no law that says that you have to stick to it. While one is pretty much stuck in terms of the 24mm height, some cameras made images with varying widths on 35mm film. So, there were old "half frame" cameras which produced 24x18mm frames taking up half the size of a 35mm frame. More recently Hasselblad produced the expensive but awesome XPan wide format panoramic camera which produced images 24mmx65mm in size. But for most beginner's purposes 35mm means making 36mmx24mm images with one of the traditional 35mm SLR or rangefinder or point-and-shoot or perhaps even single use cameras.

35mm film most commonly comes in metal canisters in 36, 24 or 12 frame sizes (i.e. how many 36mmx24mm shots you can get on the roll). You can also buy it in "bulk rolls" which have 100 feet or sometimes 50 feet of film. This is then loaded onto small plastic or metal canisters by the user. Of course, film is photosensitive - any light will spoil it - so people do it in absolute darkness or with contraptions called bulk film loaders which allow you to do it in normal light. Bulk film is cheaper but best avoided until you are reasonably comfortable with film.

Medium Format: This film is often referred to as 120 and is 6cm wide and comes wound on a spool and with a paper backing. It is used in many medium format cameras which a lot of serious photographers use (I don't like the term "professional" - it is ambivalent and doesn't really mean anything). Again, the height of the image is physically limited to about 56cm by the film but various cameras make images of various widths on this film. The most common formats you will encounter are 645 (6x4.5 cm approx), 6x6, 6x7, 6x9, 6x12 and even 6x17. How many images you get out of a roll will of course depend on the format. You'll get 18 645 shots on a roll, 12 6x6 shots but only 4 6x17 shots!

There is a variation on 120 film called 220 which, though still available, is becoming increasingly uncommon. It is basically the same film without the paper backing and twice the length of 120 - so you get twice the number of frames per roll. Many cameras can use either type.

Sheet film: The above types of film are called roll films, because they come in rolls - no surprise there! There are cameras called view cameras or large format cameras that use film in individual sheets. One image per sheet of film. The most common sheet size is 4x5 inches, but many many other sizes exist and people sometimes even cut up their sheet film on their own to use in historical formats which are no longer available. 5x7 and 8x10 inch film sheets are quite common but there are people shooting 11x14 or even 20x24 inch sheets of film in huge cameras.

You are probably wondering why all the fuss with larger sized film. The answer is surface area. An 8x10 inch sheet of film is almost 60 times the size of a 35mm film frame! That means it holds much more image detail, gives better tonality and a whole bunch of other stuff that we don't need to discuss now. Suffice it to say that every film format and type of camera has its specific strengths, weaknesses and uses.

Finally, many many other film formats have been produced throughout the history of photography. Some are still produced in small quantities. To get a quick idea take a look at this chart. Photography has a long and rich tradition and these formats have been part of it.

Okay, now that we've had a rundown of formats, let's look at the types of film that we can choose from.

Black and White Film: Traditional black and white film comes in all of the formats discussed above and in many kind of flavors. It can also be very easily developed at home and provides the user with a great degree of control. Advanced photographers will, for example, control the exact degree of contrast in the film by controlling th development process - its time, temperature and the amount of agitation for the chemicals. Once developed, BW film produces negatives which can be printed with an enlarger in a darkroom resulting in prints that you will see referred to as "silver gelatin" or traditional prints. You can also, of course, scan and print it digitally or do a whole bunch of other printing processes from the nineteenth century that we don't really need to worry about right now. One can spend a lifetime just learning new things about traditional black and white photography but for our purposes this much should suffice to begin with. Beside traditional black and white film, the only other thing a beginner might need to be aware of is something called chromogenic film which is discussed below.

Color Negative Film: This is the most common type of color film that produces negatives with an orangish base and can be develped at any neighborhood drugstore or grocery store. This film is sometimes called C-41 film which refers to the process used to develop it.

Chromogenic film is a type of C-41 film - only instead of color, it produces black and white negatives. It's basically a color film without the three red, green and blue layers which combine to give us color images - instead it has just one. Why? That's because the C-41 process is so common and not everyone is able to develop their true black and white film at home or has access to a good lab that can properly develop black and white film. It provides a convenient way for people to shoot black and white images and get it developed at their local drugstore. Many store clerks seem to be unfamiliar with the term "chromogenic" so ask for either Ilford XP-2 or Kodak BW400CN. As far as I know, those are the only chromogenic films currently available. For all other kinds of film a store clerk should know what you are talking about. If not, try to find another store.

Color Slide Film: Less common nowadays is color slide film, also called chrome film, positive film or E-6 film (again a reference to the process used to develop it). This produces a finished positive that you can view directly on a light table. The frames are usually cut up and mounted in slide mounts for 35mm slides. These can be projected using a slide projector or, of course, scanned.

Kodachrome warrants a mention here because of its cultural significance and its place in the history of photography. It is a type of slide film and produces positive images just like other slide films. But unfortunately, it uses a different process than E-6 that is becoming increasingly rare. In fact, there is only one lab left in the US which still develops it, but many local labs including, apparently, those at Walmart will accept Kodachrome film and send it off to that lab.

You might be wondering if it is possible to produce slides from black and white films. A few processes exist but they are best left to the advanced photographer. For our purposes, black and white films will produce black and white negatives.

Prints and Scans: What kind of film you choose depends quite a bit on how you plan to output your images. Traditional black and white film, as I mentioned, can be printed in the darkroom or scanned and then printed. Chromogenic films don't print as well in the darkroom (though it can be done) and so that might be a factor in deciding what film you choose. Color films - both negatives and slides - used to be printed in the darkroom (these are sometimes called "wet" prints because one uses liquid chamicals to make them) - but nowadays wet prints from color film are so rare that the beginner probably won't have ready access to it. There's nothing wrong with printing from scans, though, and digital prints are getting better all the time. But be aware that the quality of printing, and its longevity will differ widely between the average drugstore print and something that a serious photographer will produce or a museum or an art gallery will display. But printing isn't our main concern today.

Other film characteristics: The most important thing is probably ISO. You are probably familiar with the concept from digital cameras and it is exactly the same for film. It indicates the sensitivity to light of a particular film emulsion (or digital sensor). As a rule, the higher the ISO, the grainier the film. Grain is the equivalent of noise in digital sensors but keep in mind two things. Film grain shows up at much lower ISO values than output from good modern DSLRs. So you'll be able to see grain at ISO 400 and quite a lot of grain at 1600 or so while the DSLR will produce relatively less noise at those levels. But the good news is that grain and noise are not really the same thing. The best way I have heard it put is that grain is the actual constituent - as in minute grains of silver - that makes up the image on film, while noise is an unwanted by-product of digital imaging. So grain doesn't look as downright ugly as noise can. In fact, it often adds a lot of character to images. You will see a lot of grain especially in images made with small format (35mm) cameras because naturally, smaller negatives need to be enlarged or magnified more to get to a particular sized print than larger negatives (or slides).

So, now let's try to answer the big question: what film should you buy. The format is of course dictated by your camera - if you have a 35mm SLR, you need 35mm film and so forth. You need to decide if you want to shoot black and white or color. For black and white another decision comes into play - can you develop your own film or do you want to print it in a darkroom? If not, then maybe you can avoid traditional black and white film and go for chromogenic film which is much more convenient as it can be developed at the drugstore and scanned.

For color, I would advice negative film if you are starting out. Slide films have something called a narrow dynamic range which means they are especially sensitive to exposure errors. But then, seeing a slide on a light table is a wonderful experience, and the sensitivity of slide films is much like a DSLR sensor's. So if you think you can handle it, go for it. You will probably need to take it to a proper photo lab rather than a drugstore, though.

Buy the slowest film that will do for your purpose. I.e. the lowest ISO. If you are planning to shoot in broad daylight or with a tripod, ISO 100 should be fine. ISO 400 is great for general purpose handheld photography and higher ISO films like 1600 or 3200 are good for very low light or what is called "available darkness."

What brands? It doesn't matter that much. You will see advanced photographers endlessly debating which films and even which film and developer combinations (for B&W) they like and when you get to that stage, you will too, but honestly it doesn't matter to begin with. All the major films currently available are more than capable. Go with the above guidelines in mind and buy whatever fits those requirements and is available and/or cheap. Kodak, Fuji and Ilford are perhaps the most well known film brands but there are many others capable of producing good results. So, first decide what kind of, size, type and speed you'd like and then bother with brand.

Finally, welcome to traditional photography. Stay, explore, enjoy!

Gearing Up: The Equipment I Use

2008-04-29T12:19:00.023-05:00

Anyone who has done photography seriously will tell you that it's not the camera but the photographer that makes pictures. Why bother with a list of gear, then? For one, I have found that the equipment I have used has evolved to reflect the development of my photography. It is not always about the sharpest or the fastest, but often about choosing the most expressive tool for one's photography. I find that even though I have settled on my main kinds of equipment, the entire lot is constantly in a state of gentle flux - constantly being tweaked, having minor changes and adjustments made. In other words, my gear, like my photography, seems to be a work in progress.

So, on this page, I will try to keep a more or less current list of the equipment I use for my photography. Hopefully you will find it interesting beyond the mere specs and the sharpness count.

Over the years, I have tried to do a few distinct kinds of photography seriously. Consequently my equipment has evolved to suit the challenges posed by those genres. For any kind of photography that lends itself to a thoughtful, slow and precise approach - landscape, still life etc - I use a large format camera, whose precision and quality I find to be unmatched:

Chamonix 4x5 view camera
90mm f6.8 Schneider Angulon lens
150mm f6.3 Fujinon-W lens
210mm f6.8 Rodenstock Geronar MC lens
Sekonic L-558 digital meter
F64 backpack
Feisol 3442 carbon fiber tripod with ballhead

But my other great interest is street photography which requires a fast, almost instictive approach - almost the diametrical opposite of my large format photography. And for that I find the speed and spontaneity of 35mm rangefinders unmatched.

Zeiss Ikon ZM rangefinder camera body
Leica M4-P camera body
15mm f4.5 Voigtlander Super-Wide Heliar lens
28mm f1.9 Voigtlander Ultron lens
40mm f1.4 Voigtlander Nokton lens

I finally gave up my Nikon SLR system that I had owned since I started doing serious photography, and got into the Micro Four Thirds format that let's me use my M mount lenses along with some other fine glass. I still have one old Nikon as a keepsake.

Panasonic Lumix DMC G1 camera body
Canon FD 200mm F4 macro lens
Konica geared focussing rail
Nikon FG Camera body
50mm f1.8 Nikon Series E lens
Nikon SB-28 and SB-18 flash with SC-17 cord

Other cameras:

Yashica Mat 124G
Holga 120N
Holga 120N body modified as an ultra-wideangle pinhole

At present I don't have a darkroom to do silver gelatin prints as I had to give up my 4x5 darkroom. But I use a community darkroom on occasion and do alternative printing at home. I also use a scanner and a densitometer.

Epson V700 scanner, with Vuescan software
X-Rite densitometer

Leica 40mm Summicron-C vs. CV 40mm Nokton

2008-04-28T15:53:00.003-05:00

So, I was getting bored working at home but didn't have the time to go out to do any meaningful photography. So I decided to do the next best thing - some meaningless photography! a.k.a. lens tests. Since I had newly acquired a Leitz 40mm f2 Summicron-C, I decided to find out how my usual street lens, a Cosina-Voigtlander 40mm f1.4 Nokton MC, matched up against it. So I drew up a plan and shot off a roll of film and here are my findings.

I tested for the factors that I find important in how I use these lenses - i.e. handheld street photography. Of course, all the standard caveats of informal testing of photographic equipment apply - sample variation, non-objective criteria, do-your-own-testing yada yada - but I hope you still find the review interesting.

Camera was a Bessa-T, with TMax 100 film at EI 64 developed for 6.5 mins in HC110B (.1 - 1.35 density range). Everything scanned with a Nikon Coolscan IV at 2900 dpi. Minimal or no postprocessing applied. Where I have applied even the slightest curve etc, exactly the same processing has been applied to all the shots in a particular test (with recorded actions in PS). Both lenses were used without any hoods or filters. In paired shots, the Summicron is first (left or top) followed by the Nokton. Excuse the water stains - I ran out of photoflo! Remember to click on the photos to see them at full size.

A word on build. Both lenses look very well made - metal construction and smooth focus etc - although the Summicron-C would come out slightly ahead in build quality. Not that much of a concern for me, though. The Summicron-C is surprisingly compact but the Nokton isn't much larger - it sticks out perhaps 3-5mm more from the body than the Leica. The Nokton takes 43mm filters while the Summicron-C takes the ridiculous and difficult to find series 5.5 filters.

So, sharpness is up first. I mainly use a 40mm-ish lens on the street at medium to long distances and for some not too tight portraits, so those are the average distances I tested for. Here's the full frame test shot I used for average street distances, showing the areas I used for center and corner sharpness comparisons:Center sharpness first. The Nokton at f1.4 looks quite soft, but hey, it's 1.4!
Let's put them head on at f2. The Summicron-C is very slightly sharper an contrastier:
F4 and the difference is still prominent:And at f8, leading me to conclude that the Leica is very slightly but perceptably sharper in the center at relatively far distances:How about corner sharpness? Here's the Nokton at f1.4. Not pin sharp but looks pretty darn good for a corner at f1.4, IMO!:At f2 it's neck and neck, but the Nokton might just have its nose in front:By f4 the difference is quite clear and the Nokton is noticeably better than the Summicron-C:But at f8 the Summicron seems to edge ahead. But both lenses turned in performances in the corner above my expectations - overall I felt the Nokton was better:For near distances, I used this shot to test for sharpness - shows 100% center and corner crops:The Nokton at f1.4 at the center, again quite soft but acceptable at f1.4:At f2 the Summicron-C is sharp enough, but the Nokton disappoints:By f4 the Summicron-C is very sharp indeed while the Nokton lags far behind:At f8, the Nokton closes the gap a little bit, and about time, too. Overall, the Summicron appears quite a bit better for portrait distances:So with bated breath, I move on to the corner. A look at the Nokton at f1.4:Both are so-so at f2:Very hard to tell at f4 as well:By f8, I am slightly mad at both lenses but it looks like the Nokton might just be doing a little better. But overall, it's the Summicron-C that is sharper at closer distances, mainly because of its superior center performance over the Nokton:Okay, now let's move beyond sharpness to the religious debates on fuzzines, out of focus rendition, bokeh, what you will. It remains an important element of my photography, so let's test for it. I chose two kinds of situations - one with a busy and difficult background in the daytime and another with the kind of specular highlights one encounters so often, shooting on the streets at night. The first lot only show the top 2/3rd or so of the frame where the OOF action is. At f1.4, only the Nokton showed up with an entry. The famed hard edged bokeh that the Nokton has taken much stick for - people read about it and run away from this lens. I have always insisted that it has 'character' rather than just harshness, and I stand by that. The bokeh isn't creamy smooth, but it isn't really harsh. In fact, this kind of bokeh might work very well in gritty street shooting:F2 springs a surprise as the Nokton bokeh is much better than the Summicron-C which disappoints quite a bit with downright harsh out-of-focus renditions:Closer at f4, but I still think the Nokton is noticeably better than the Summicron-C. BTW, the Summicron-C continues to be contrastier in these shots and I think the Nokton shows a hint of veiling glare from shooting into the light - but nothing major at all, barely noticeable and then if you are looking hard:Okay, how about specular OOF highlights at night. These are quite important to me. I tested with both the lenses focused at 1m. Plenty of hard edges/character from the Nokton at 1m and f1.4 and even some of the more problematic flare. But it is the only lens that showed up, and when you need f1.4 at night, you need f1.4. I do think that if one is aware of how this lens renders highlights wide open, it can be used to great effect as an element in the photograph:At f2, both have more or less hard edges, but the Nokton looks much better to my eyes than the Summicron-C:Finally, I put them through a stress-test for flare. This is my desk with the table lamp turned up, shining into the lens (remember, no shades or filters) and both are surprisingly good at f2, although the Summicron is starting to show signs of flare at both the top right and bottom left corners. As before the Nokton shows just a hint of veiling glare but none of the problematic specular flaring that is so difficult to handle. In fact, the veiling glare seems to lower the contrast a tad bit in such very contrasty scenes:The Summicron-C turns out to be slightly sharper but the Nokton turned in better performances in the corners. The Nokton also has better bokeh all around and is more resistant to flare. But most importantly the Nokton is a stop faster and that seals it for me. I felt the Summicron-C's slightly better build and sharpness weren't enough to sacrifice the advantages of an f1.4 lens. So, there you have it. The best part of a day wasted and I am still keeping the Nokton!