A Further Adjustment

It's been over a year since my last equipment post and during that time I've been quite happy with the simplicity of my lens choices with one exception.  I've found I missed having a wider lens pair to choose for certain situations or as the occasional change of pace.  As such I decided to bring back the 16mm f2.8 WR and 35mm f2 WR combo.  (This translates to about 24mm and 50mm in full frame terms.)

The 16mm is quite simply fun to use.  It gives just a touch of ultra wide angle distortion without it becoming the dominant quality of the image, or in other words, without feeling like a gimmick.  However, by tilting the lens up or down or getting rather close to an element in the scene you can increase the perceived level of that distortion significantly.  Conversely, by keeping the sensor or film plane level and being careful with what's in the corners and edges it's also possible to make images with this lens look almost normal while still adding a feeling of expansion to the space you're in.  All quite different than my other lenses.

Fujinon 16mm R WR f2.8

I am an admirer of the photographs of David J Carol who uses the full frame equivalent (24mm) along with a slightly wider lens. The popular Alan Schaller is another photographer who uses this angle of view as his primary lens.  And of course it's been a staple in landscape and architectural photography for decades.

I typically photograph with two lenses on two bodies and I've always found the 35mm to be a perfect companion for the 16mm.  For years the full frame equivalent (50mm) was the standard lens that came with rangefinder and SLR film cameras and was favored by photojournalists and street photographers such as Henri Cartier-Bresson and Elliot Erwitt.  It was my favorite focal length when I started photographing in the late 1990s through my time using view cameras and held that position until only five or six years ago.

Fujinon 35mm R WR f2

At some point along the way I began to think of it as my "dream lens."  The images it draws create a normal perspective (the distance and relationship between things look about like they do to the eye) but being a rectangle cut from the image circle of a single optic it creates a much tighter frame. There is something about that combination of normal perspective and single, abbreviated angle of view which gives me the feeling of images plucked from a dream.    

Finally, I mentioned before that having four cameras after determining I couldn’t manage without IBIS felt unnecessary and extravagant while also creating an additional decision before photographing. I decided to sell all four and replace them with two X-S20 bodies. It retains the same sensor as the previous cameras but adds the new double speed X5 processor which, among other things, significantly improves autofocus. Focusing was the only real weakness in previous iterations and the primary reason for this change.

There are a few other benefits such as a new battery that lasts twice as long, a higher resolution screen, a longer buffer, and improved stabilization. I was actually able to make a sharp image handheld at a shutter speed between 1/2 and 1 second. Impressive technology which allows me to shoot at base ISO 160 or ISO 800 in darker situations greatly improving dynamic range compared to using higher values.

So it's two cameras and six lenses for the foreseeable future, plus my iPhone of course...  Seems reasonable for someone who's primary interest in life is photography. 

Gear Adjustment

After spending over a year with my Fujifilm gear I decided a couple of adjustments were in order...

Firstly, I missed IBIS (In Body Image Stabilization) in certain situations.  The answer was adding two X-S10 bodies.  These have become my every day carry cameras as the small size and comfortable grip feel just right. Plus, they use the same batteries as my X-T3 bodies. While I miss the vintage controls a bit the implementation of the more modern system is well executed and was an easy adaptation for me (at least my lenses still have aperture rings).  The sensors and processors are the same as in my other cameras so everything I'm producing retains a cohesive look.

Fujifilm X-S10 w/ 23mm 1.4 WR

Secondly, I had gotten away from using only two focal lengths and felt the need to simplify.  I sold off everything I had accumulated except fast and slow versions of my two favorite focal lenses. I had to make a slight compromise at the long end with a small 50mm and large 56mm because Fujifilm simply didn't offer a perfectly matching set that fit my needs.  The 6mm difference is minimal though and it's always fun to break the rules, especially when they're self imposed.  That slight discrepancy aside, it feels wonderful to be back to only two choices in the field, a little bit wide or a little bit long.  I believe the limited fields of view also contribute to what I believe is the recognizable look of my photography.

Fujifilm X-S10 w/ 56mm f1.2 WR

So, that leaves me with two X-T3 bodies, two X-S10 bodies, a 23mm f2 WR, 23mm f1.4 WR, 50mm f2 WR, and 56mm f1.2 WR prime lenses.  Feels just about perfect and adaptable to any situation. The X-T3s are weather resistant, tough, easy to use with a tripod or when you're in a hurry as you can simply glance at the top of the camera to see all your exposure triangle settings.  The X-S10s excel in low light, unstable situations, or when small size and low weight are especially important.  Ideally, the X-T3s would have IBIS and I'd only use the two bodies but I bought them at a significant discount and when certain other options didn't exist or were prohibitively expensive.

Seeing without Looking

I've noticed lately that my eyes have been doing most of the heavy lifting in the discovery of new photographs.  While that might seem reasonable or even expected I'd estimate it only accounts for half of my best images over the last 25 years.

Beyond looking for photographs visually, I frequently find them by following my feelings.  This involves a contradictory sounding process I think of as seeing without looking.  While I came upon the practice naturally, I found my way to a better understanding of it through the writings of photographer Mark Citret and the Taoist teachings of Lao Tzu.

Mark writes, "there is something irrevocably illogical about searching for something by 'not looking' for it. But experience has taught me that when I allow myself to drift in 'autopilot,' divorced from all my preferences, expectations, and judgments, my eye will eventually settle on some familiar scene, never quite seen before."

Students of Taoism will quickly recognize the idea of "effortless or actionless action." It's often referenced in Eastern Philosophy as the Paradox of Wu Wei or the mental state of Wu Xin and there are all manner of practitioners in sports, arts, politics, and everyday life.

My typical approach is to explore a place as calmly and openly as possible while paying close attention to my feelings as I move through the space.  When I'm inspired by something, even if (or maybe especially if) I can't put my finger on why, then I know it's time to get out a camera and start looking around.  In my large format days this meant spending time under the dark cloth panning the camera around until I settled on a composition that felt right.  These days it means exploring through the EVF of one of my Fujifilm bodies but the idea is the same.

I frequently find that the images I create in this way have far greater meaning and deeper connections than I recognize at the time of exposure.  Through talking with the photographer Paula Chamlee I came to think of these photographs as manifestations of that which I am unable to express any other way.  I believe most artists working sincerely experience something similar; even Edward Weston mused in his daybooks that "my work is always a few jumps ahead of what I write about it."

So it is my intention to get back to this way of seeing without looking more often. If experience is any indication it might take some time for me to recognize the deeper connections I uncover but it will surely be worth the effort or, non-effort.

Back to Basics

The Great Zoom Experiment proved to be what I'd always thought it would but hoped it wouldn't, too many options and not enough creativity inducing constraints.  The positive takeaway was a reassessment of my photographic tools.

My ideal kit would be a phone with a few built in lenses.  I have friends who shoot this way and make beautiful pictures.  I've tried using only my phone and while the results are technically good enough I just don't get the same satisfaction I experience using a dedicated camera.  That joy in the process ends up fueling my imagination and enthusiasm which results in better seeing and more photographs.

X-T3 w/ 23mm f2 WR

Those thoughts led me to the following question.  What camera and lens combo would bring me the most joy to use?  The answer was simple.  A camera with the exposure triangle controls (shutter speed, aperture, and ISO) visible at a glance on the top of the camera and changeable without accessing a menu or looking through a viewfinder.  That narrowed it down to Leica and Fujifilm and prices being what they are, Fujifilm was the clear answer.

Lenses were a little harder and lead to several thoughts. Prime lenses were a given and no matter how many lenses I own I always leave the house with only one or two. I hate changing lenses while I'm working but still like to have at least one alternative focal length option. I also like to have a backup body as being without any camera to use if something happens is not acceptable. I prefer perspectives that aren't too different from human vision so that the composition isn't overwhelmed by the drama created by the lens.

Based on those thoughts the answer was clear, two identical cameras and two, two lens kits. A set that is small and lightweight and a second set that lets in the most possible light and allows me to use selective focus. This way I make a choice as to which lens pair to take when I leave home, and then there's only one choice to make in the field, a little wider or a little longer.  And with two bodies there's no changing lenses once I'm out the door.  (Honestly, this feels a lot like what I did shooting weddings 20 years ago but I'd prefer not to think about that.)

X-T3 w/ 50mm f2 WR

In the end I sold all my Sony gear and bought two Fujifilm X-T3 camera bodies. For the slower and smaller lens pair I went with the 23mm and 50mm WR f2 Fujicrons.  The bigger and faster pair consists of the 23mm 1.4 and 56mm f1.2 WR Fujilux lenses.

I could see buying a telephoto zoom for certain special circumstances someday as I'm a big fan of the way André Kertész and W. Eugene Smith used those type of lenses but otherwise my equipment is set and I've been thrilled with my Fuji gear thus far.  My focus the last few months has been on images as the tools have quickly become second nature in a way my Sony's never really did.

The Great Zoom Experiment

I recently wrote about my fondness for the 35mm focal length and preference for prime (non-zooming) lenses.  It was that post plus the release of two new, compact, f2.8 zoom lenses that has caused me to reconsider using them again.

There are several reasons to prefer fixed lenses. For starters they are generally sharper, faster (let more light in), and smaller than their zooming counterparts.  The biggest reason, however, is actually their limitation.  By not being able to change focal lengths with the twist of the wrist it forces you to look at things in ways you might otherwise have never considered.  I've frequently discovered compositions by simply panning around and looking through the viewfinder or at the screen (or ground glass in my view camera days). If you want to bring something closer you either have to physically move closer or take the time to change lenses.  After enough practice it's also easy to visualize how a certain scene is going to look with a given lens.  However, I typically try to avoid that unless I'm in a hurry as I can usually discover something better than I initially imagined.

I've found that when using a zoom lens many beginners, myself included, tend to remain stationary and simply zoom in to fill the frame with whatever they perceive as their subject.  That is a sure recipe for boring pictures.  Exploring through a camera with a fixed lens reveals relationships between the initially recognized subject and it's surroundings which can themselves become the real subject of the photograph.  These relationships combined with, and sometimes created by, a certain type of light are the key elements from which my best images are derived.  And of course it's always the right light to photograph something.

So after all this, why go another round with zoom lenses?  The obvious reason is having multiple focal lengths available without carrying more or changing lenses.  Swapping lenses is a bit of a pain in good weather and during bad weather I generally won't even bother.  The biggest obstacle, lack of creativity inducing constraints, I believe I'll manage simply through experience.  I have been approaching photography with a zoom as though I were still using primes.  I imagine what lens would be best for a given scene and zoom to that focal length before I look through the viewfinder and then proceed as usual.  If it's not working and I need to "try a different lens," only then do I change the zoom position.

This also allows the added bonus of using the zoom in a more traditional way when I'm stuck in a certain spot and unable to move around.  I've also found that when I've exhausted my traditional approach I have the option of exploring through the camera with the added dimension of  zooming in and out both on and around the subject.

I've only just begun this process so I imagine there's more to discover and I'm looking forward to using these zoom lenses on a day to day basis.  Of course there's no replacing my 35mm 1.4 when shallow depth of field or shooting in low light is required and the tiny size of my 2.8 primes makes them indispensable when traveling as light as possible... but I anticipate using them much less now.

Creating Calm

When I'm doing my best work it typically begins with being calm and quiet enough to allow my surroundings to speak and then responding in an intuitive way. Though not my only recipe for good photographs it certainly produces the highest percentage of keepers. It can also be an exercise in restraint and good practice for dealing with other challenges.  

Exposing the above image was a perfect example. Immediately after arriving in this tranquil autumn setting the construction crew widening the nearby road showed up. While their arrival didn't affect the scene visually the mood definitely changed and I struggled to compose a picture.

In moments like this I find it helpful to focus on my routine and not the freshly broken calm, so I looked to simple advice I've heard countless times over my 23 years of photography. "If you're having trouble composing; get higher, get lower, move closer, move farther away, or change lenses." I only had a 35mm lens with me and the tiny peninsula I was on restricted my ability to move around. An exposure from full height didn't feel right so I lowered the camera to a couple of feet off the ground and found a composition that worked.

The scene required a one second exposure at f11 which wasn't long enough to blur the occasional ripple disturbing the otherwise still waters of the lake. I prefer not to fool around with filters in extremely humid and misty conditions as keeping them from fogging can be quite difficult thus ND filters were not a good solution. A bit more patience was in order as I waited and tried to time my delayed shutter release plus the one second exposure in between the randomly occurring surface disruptions.  I feel remaining calm and sticking with it payed off in the end as the resulting picture embodies the serenity I experienced when I first arrived.

A Most Comfortable Field of View

For a number of years I had settled into a routine with my large and medium format equipment.  One wide angle lens, one normal lens, and one or two longer lenses.  All of fixed focal lengths as I've never gotten on with zoom lenses despite their obvious appeal and several attempts.  After transitioning to an all digital workflow in 2016 I assumed I would simply duplicate those lens choices and be on my way.

I'm not sure if it was the aspect ratio change from 4x5 to the longer 3x2 or simply a change of taste after nearly 20 years of photography but I was never quite happy with those lenses after the switch.  In "full frame" speak, which is what I use, a normal lens has a 50mm focal length or a 47 degree angle of view (on the diagonal).  My wide angle has a 24mm focal length or an 84 degree angle of view. And of course the longer focal length lenses have a much narrower angle of view which makes distant objects appear closer and the scene look more compressed.

I came to realize that there's quite a large gap between my 50mm and 24mm lenses. So I picked up an old Minolta 35mm lens which seemed to fit nicely in between them and my photography has not been the same since.  Suddenly the 50mm felt like a long lens and the 24mm looked rather wide.  I still use them both but that 35mm focal length felt just right to me.  Maybe not exactly what my eyes see but how they see.

My best description of the 35mm focal length with its 63 degree angle of view would be this: a telephoto wide angle. An oxymoron for sure yet precisely how it feels.  From longer distances it allows me to capture what appears to be a wide field of view without much distortion.  From middle distances the 35mm lets me pick out the most important details of a scene while still feeling natural.  And up close I'm able to include a bit of context while highlighting a specific subject.  A long wide angle or a wide long lens... Either way I approach it the lens simply provides a most comfortable field of view and lets me focus on visual relationships and light in a decidedly natural way.

I still have and use my other focal lengths but the 35mm is responsible for at least fifty percent of my keepers now.  And when I go out with only one camera and one lens, it's almost always one of my 35s.  That's right, I love it so much I have two; a small f2.8 pancake model, and a much larger f1.4 version for low light and shallow depth of field situations.  Part of me wishes I had found this goldilocks perspective earlier in my photography but finding it now has been quite exciting and reinvigorated my work in a way. So, I'll just be grateful for discovering it when I did.  Of course 35mm is one of the most popular lenses around so maybe "discovering" isn't quite accurate, but again, that's how it feels.

Knowing vs Understanding Choices

I have been working in darkrooms for almost 16 years and with a new found passion and motivation for over 9 years. During that time I have been influenced by many photographers, painters, musicians, writers... all sorts of people. I have gone through periods of emulating the printing style (and negative processing) of various photographers while trying to develop my own way of seeing. This, more than anything else I'd venture, has helped me learn the craft of photography (and the fact that I will never stop learning...)

For some time now I have observed and admired artists who work one "piece" at a time. That is to say that they come to each image, book, song, or painting anew. Yet in my own work I tend to worry about keeping things in line, wanting prints to match in color, texture and tone... considering my years spent experimenting with different styles it is probably needless to say that my body of work is NOT consistent in color, texture or tone.

So, while I've known that my photography does not need to be consistent in such ways and admired those who make individual works... it has still troubled me. Until recently. I'm in the midst of organizing and cataloging my negatives and prints and in so doing have been taking a trip backwards in time. And only through this process have I begun to understand that each new photograph presents its own unique set of challenges. And in order to solve those challenges we are faced with choices. It is what we choose that not only makes our work our own, but also, what makes each piece stand on its own. Limiting my choices for the sake of consistency will only serve to limit the scope and, ultimately, the evolution of my photography.

As I continue to sort through my archives and make decisions about what prints are acceptable and what prints are not, I now base those decisions solely on the merits of the photographs themselves. One at a time.

I also understand that this is personal and that there are those who impose limitations on themselves for artistic purposes. And that only through working within, and often times against, those constraints are they able to thrive.

But for me, there are more than enough limitations built into the process itself to struggle against.  This realization has been a long time coming and it is incredibly freeing.

Skunk Run Falls #1

I exposed this negative at about 7:30am July 4th, 2012. After hiking up the creek bed I came to this falls which is not listed on the map. I first found it on Flickr while researching some new to me areas of McConnells Mill. The water, which has been low this year, was up after a thunderstorm the night before. The weather was sunny and foggy at the same time but the dappled light had not yet made it into the ravine, which is probably 75 feet deep at this point in the run. The light was low but fairly even, I had to hold my breath under the dark cloth in order to keep the ground glass and my loupe from fogging.

I used a Toyo 45AII, Nikkor 90mm SW f4.5 and TMY2 (Tmax 400) rated at ISO 250. I metered the white water at the base of the falls, the water in the pool, the wet rock faces without flow at the bottom right and left of the falls and several of the black areas with my Pentax 1 degree spot meter to come up with my exposure. Indicated exposure was 8 seconds at f22, I added two seconds of reciprocity compensation per a list made by Lee Lumpkin  (which he compiled from Howard Bond's data). I suppose 2 seconds is negligible in this situation but I always error on the side of more exposure and thought an extra couple of seconds might help lengthen the white stripes in the wading pool a bit. I exposed two sheets of film as is my usual practice.

I have been experimenting with developing my 4x5 film in home made BTZS style tubes but instead of rolling them in water I use them upright as one would a 120 or 35mm stainless tank. I agitate for the first minute and then at the top of each minute thereafter. Agitation is by inversion. The tubes, when screwed together, hold double the amount of solution required to cover the film so each inversion causes all of the developer to leave the film and be replaced in a new position. Thus far development has been completely even, including the edges of the film.

I developed the first sheet for 15 minutes at 1:100. The shadows and midtones looked good but the white water was a little hotter than I wanted. For my second sheet I decided to increase the dilution to 1:140 to help tame the highlights and extend the development time 2 minutes to help keep the shadows up where I wanted them (all was done at 70degrees F). This negative looked great, the shadows had the same density as the first but the highlights had come down a nice amount. It was this second negative that I printed.

The print was made via contact on AGFA MCC 111 fiber paper using Ilford filters (grades 4, 5 and 1) over my old Nikkor diffusion enlarger with a 100mm lens projecting the light circle which just covers my 9x11 contact printing frame. I developed the print in PF 130 at 1:1 for two minutes. The print was then selenium toned with KRST at 1:100 for 2 minutes, this seemed to give the blacks just a bit more density.  My printing notes should be fairly clear to those familiar with MultiGrade printing techniques.  The F number refers to the aperture used and the G number to the filter grade.

Printing "Ice Form, Hell's Hollow Falls"

For those who have asked how much I manipulate my prints in the darkroom (and how I go about it) this example would be at the extreme end of the spectrum.  Or as Brett Weston would have put it, the negative was a real "bitch".  You can see a scan of the finished print HERE.  (Per requests I've added a picture of the mask I made to do some of the ice form burning.)

Two at TAG

Two of my photographs have been selected as a part of the 46th TAG Annual Juried Exhibition. The show begins Saturday August 14th with an opening reception from 7 to 9 pm at the Trumbull Art Gallery in Warren, Ohio. Normal business hours are Tuesday through Saturday Noon to 4 pm.

This year's juror was Mark Cole, Associate Curator of Sculpture and Painting at the Cleveland Museum of Art. Visit the TAG website, by clicking HERE, for more information.

The pictures selected were: "Reaching" - Shenango River Lake, Pennsylvania and "Roots" - Nelson Ledges State Park, Ohio. Both are 4x5 silver chloride contact prints.

Edit: "Roots" was awarded Honorable Mention. All other awards went to painters... =)

When Square can be a bit... Square.

As some of you have been kind enough to remind me =) I have neglected the website and this blog since late last fall. I have not, however, neglected my work. There are many new photographs to post and a good bit of writing as well.

My Little Things project has been my primary focus lately and we will begin again with that. Making these 2 1/4 contacts has proven to be a real challenge, due primarily to working with the new to me square format. As the shape of the picture space itself is neutral, it provides no real movement of it's own - no entry point, no release, no direction - that is left entirely to the artist. Over the last couple of years I have become comfortable with this, though as with anything else, I've discovered it's not always the best choice. Some visual elements simply cry out for a horizontal edge or a vertical gesture.

I was made even more aware of this a couple of weeks ago while looking through a stack of 'small prints' by Paula Chamlee. When photographs are printed at such a diminutive size the structure of the composition becomes more evident and, to my eyes, even more closely related to the borders. My next step seemed clear enough, it was time to start making small rectangular prints as well.

The above image is my first attempt. While texture is quite obviously the most important aspect, there is a gentle flow across the picture space which leads the eye from the top left to the bottom right corner and back again. This is made possible not only by the darker threads' relationships to each other, but also (and maybe even more so) through their interplay with the elongated top and bottom edges.

As an exercise, and partly to prove a point to myself, I have tried cropping the image to a square several different ways and with each attempt have found the result lacking in comparison to the original. I'll no doubt be viewing the ground glass a bit differently now and while my final decisions are largely intuitive I've also learned that once something is seen it is not so easily unseen.

And if you must know, it's light emanating through a lampshade.

Nelson Ledges, Ohio

9/19/09 Seven minutes into a twenty minute exposure. Nelson Ledges.
Gunshots permeate the air, overpowering the gentle gurgle of the waterfall disappearing down the deep stone ledges to my left. To my right a cross tied with a bouquet of week old flowers tells the story of someone's love and someone else's last hour. Mankind's shadow is cast wide over this place. Graffiti is rampant. I am unable to fathom how anyone could take a can of spray paint to these primeval walls... young... troubled... I can find no reasonable explanation for such a perversion of beauty. This ancient place of stone may seem immune to time but certainly is no match for fools.

If Tim Burton Carved a Pumkin...

...I thought it might look a bit like this. A couple of years ago I did some work shooting leaves on my light table with a single overhead light to keep things simple. The recent rain and the passing of the Equinox and subsequent diminishing daylight hours have driven me back inside. As most of my work is found in "nature" and arranged on the ground glass, being able to move the objects I'm photographing as well as the camera has been a bit overwhelming and exciting at the same time. Of course I can't help but wonder what Edward Weston might have come up with had he more than a funnel and window light to work with when he was stuck in the studio waiting for customers... Oh, if you're wondering what exactly this is...? It's a photograph!

Alright... it's my bike helmet.

Visual Bias

For some time now I have had a sort of visual bias against certain subject matter. Be it a waterfall, sunset or nautilus shell these subjects have been photographed again and again. At the same time I have held the belief that visual relationships in the context of my own personal experience is the real subject matter of my work. In other words, it doesn't matter what is photographed but how, when, and by whom it's photographed.

So, carrying this prejudice against cliched subject matter around with me not only conflicts with my most fundamental beliefs as an artist but also interferes with my ability to openly and honestly interpret the world around me. Photographically speaking, I aim to become an equal opportunity seeker of beauty and whether I'm focused on the fungus laden interior of a decaying stump or the powerful grace of a woodland falls, what's important is being open to the possibilities they each present. Both have been photographed before, but not in this moment, and never by me.

Tularosa, New Mexico

This photograph, from a Tularosa Cemetery, was my last on a March trip to Arizona and New Mexico. It was the 18th exposure I'd made with my 8x10 view camera that day and the second sheet of film in my final holder. While my traveling companions generously offered me use of their extras I was simply out of gas and ready to relax and enjoy my surroundings.

Later on we found our way to a hill top in the middle of the Tularosa Basin where the moment moved me to capture what I could, but this time with a pen and my trusty Moleskin.

3/10/09 Sometime in the late afternoon. Valley of Fires.
A young man plays his guitar and sings with quiet, brooding emotion as I look east from a perch atop the Tularosa Valley. Mount Carrizo looms large in the distance while the sun glistens off the snow shrouded peak of his big brother, Sierra Blanca. A soft breeze adds a slight chill to an otherwise warm and sunny day. The valley's yellow grasses come alive, blazing against the black lava strewn about me by some ancient event, still evident so many years later. Time has slowed to a crawl and troubles seem far away, nearly forgotten in the simple splendor of this moment. Sunshine and song reign supreme here. Even the yuccas pay homage, raising their many hands in worship and warmth. It's hard to imagine leaving this place... so many promises to keep.

Wanderings

“The artist's world is limitless. It can be found anywhere, far from where he lives or a few feet away. It is always on his doorstep”. Paul Strand

This idea is central to my work and a constant source of inspiration as I explore the visual relationships of my immediate environment and their subsequent physical and emotional manifestations. After all, art is more than just something to be sought, found and presented. Art is something we create from inside ourselves... and if we're diligent about the work it begins to flow out of us naturally, revealing layers of our subconscious we're simply unable to express any other way.

Yet sometimes it's just nice to blow the dust off and head out with nothing on our minds at all. To respond to new and exciting surroundings in a completely intuitive way. It's been a while since I've done that...

Time in a 3-Ring Binder

These exposures were made in McConnells Mills over the holidays and are among my last prints from 2008.

I've been keeping my negatives in plastic sleeves and 3 ring binders marked by year since 2004 and I can't help but think that as each year passes, so passes my opportunity to add to another set of binders.Each year's work becomes fixed in potential. With these thoughts comes the urge to try and make up time, to take one last shot at creating something from the passing cycle... Of course that cycle ends whether we're ready or not.

Thankfully, the new year brings with it another beginning. Unknown sights, discoveries and experiences await as well as a new binder, empty, yet full of possibility. Tonight I added my first group of negatives to it and printed 2009 on the spine in black marker. A wonderful feeling.

The "Little Things" Portfolio

While I'm just starting to make my final set of prints from Project Pond Scum on Michael Smith & Paula Chamlee's new silver chloride paper I'm also beginning a new series. I was fortunate enough to buy 1500 little sheets (2.5inches square) of vintage Kodak Azo silver chloride paper at a great price. I've fallen in love with having my new to me 6x6cm camera (tiny compared to my 8x10) on me most of the time and being ready to capture those little visual miracles we encounter so often if we're open to them. I've also fallen in the love with the way small contact prints draw the viewer in and the intimate nature of that experience. This particular photograph was exposed in the parking lot where I work... Unfortunately the tree shedding all the leaves was cut down a few days ago so this was the last such display I'll find when I park my car for the day.

This image is really a prime example of what I have in mind moving forward. I've decided to use the paper to create a portfolio called "Little Things", a reference to both the size of the prints as well as the subject matter. I'm more excited about my photography than ever and can't wait to see what else I discover on this journey. I'll be sure to post my ongoing results here as I did with my last series. I hope you enjoy viewing them, I sure love making them.

Little Squares

WARNING: there is a little equipment speak in this post... I promise it won't happen again!

If you're reading this you probably know I've been neglecting my blog for several months. My job has changed since February and I've gone from full time to consistent overtime. It's enjoyable but cuts into my free hours none the less. I make sure time for photography is at the top of my priority list so my writing fell victim... Tonight I'm setting a new precedent and giving up a little sleep instead as I feel this outlet is important enough to merit it.

I've also made another move to free up a little more time. I have been trading my 35mm equipment from the 70s (which has been made more valuable by it's compatibilty with current digital cameras) in on medium format equipment (which has been made less valuable by those same digital cameras). While I used the 35mm primarily at night, the larger size of the medium format negatives offers me the ability to make prints during the daylight that meet the high standards I've developed over the last 4 and half years of making 8x10 inch negs and contact prints. While I still prefer and use the big cameras I can now work in situations and time frames that I may otherwise have not...

I decided to go with a square format camera as both a means of expanding my compositional horizons and , quite simply, as a change of pace. Shape and size are not the only differences, I've also been exploring a look using subtle selective focus and softer, warmer tones. I've never been more excited about my work and look forward to using this new tool to caputure those fleeting moments that so often times escape me when armed only with my "Green Monster".

These accompanying images were exposed with the new camera last weekend at a gathering of artists near Cuyahoga Valley National Park (hosted by the ever so generous John Powers and his wife Dolly. THANK YOU!) It's a beautiful place I've managed to overlook for some time and can't recommend it enough if you live nearby.