You can never go back

Yesterday I visited a dear uncle of mine, whom now has vascular dementia. I found I connected with him about my travels. I remembered that he spent many summers traveling around Europe with his wife and girls, so I mentioned several places to see which ones would spark a reaction in him. Switzerland seemed to be the country that really sparked memories for my uncle. And when I mentioned the Matterhorn, he became even more present with me.

So tonight I dug out my few images of the Matterhorn that I made back in 2012. I thought I might print one for him as a present.

Looking at the image above, I remember how amazing the morning was that my friend and I illegally camped at the top of a mountain to get this view at sunrise. We were convinced we had the location to ourselves only to discover we were not the only ones there: we heard some Japanese tourists walk past our tents around 3am!

Looking at this image tonight, I am struck by the realisation that I really would struggle to pull off an image like this one now. I’m not the same person any more.

There is this belief I think, that progress is a one way street (improvement only). But that it simply not the case. Each time we gain some advancement in our photographic skills, we also lose something of ourselves.

When one gains, one also loses something about themselves. We are changed.

What we may assume as immaturity of our style at the time of creation may, many years later, be seen as something beautiful that we nolonger do. I am acutely aware there are things about my earlier work that I think are beautiful now, that maybe I did not accept or acknowledge at the time. Time has passed, and so to, have my abilities to create what I once did.

I think this is similar to looking at old photographs of ourselves. We are reminded of who we were, our immaturities, and also, of the innocence attached to our younger selves. The life of an artist is similar: we all have an artistic childhood, an artistic adolescence, and also an artistic adulthood.

As in life, so too in photography.

This perhaps touches upon the realisation that change is the only thing that is guaranteed. Everything we know is transient. This includes our creative abilities. They fluctuate, are fluid and are constantly changing. What we create now, is more a record of who we were at that time. A marker of where we were artistically.

One should always embrace their past, accept who they were, and also realise that no matter how much they’ve learned along the way, we are, and always will be children in our creative hearts.

Digital Grading

The whole reason I like to shoot film, is because it isn’t verbatim. For instance, Fuji Velvia film has a massive blue colour cast in the shadows. Kodak Portra is overly warm / reddish in hue. Each film has its own palette which adds its own character to the scene.

Just recently I bought a very old digital camera - a Leica M240 - (which I am loving by the way) to experiment with. It has lovely colours and I think it almost (note “almost”) has a film like quality to it. I have been wondering of late, if it is possible to impart a filmic look to the images, and I think the straight up answer is no. If one wants to have a film like look: shoot film.

I realise that this is an ancient argument, and these days, most folks don’t care. Except for a very small number of folks.

I’ve been playing with introducing a colour cast to the images above (top row, as shot with minimal RAW editing), bottom row - myself playing with trying to impart a sense of filmic look to the work.

What I have noticed, is that most films have contrasty blacks. There is often a bluish cast to some films, or even a greenish cast. Kodak’s Portra has a reddish cast to it.

I don’t think I will be substituting my film cameras for digital ones any time soon. But I must admit that I have been enjoying playing around with digital. I am around a decade too late, but I have never been keen to jump into something new when I am working with something that works quite well already.

However, it’s nice to be able to shoot scenes in low ISO that I couldn’t before, and I’m enjoying working with a rangefinder system again. I have always loved rangefinders - my first ‘proper’ camera being one: the Mamiya 7II. Which I used exclusively for the first decade of my medium format photography.

The thing is: film and digital just look different. With a little bit of nudging and massaging, you can get your digital files to look sort of like film, but not the same. Applying a curve preset does not work, as I have often found film seems to react to different light in different ways. But as I said: this is no longer an issue for most. If it were, digital camera manufacturers would be trying to make their sensors more filmic and they’re not.

But, I am enjoying working with a 12 year old digital camera. Perhaps this is becoming a thing also? Is there such a thing as ‘retro-looking-digital-capture’?

It’s fun to play with different mediums. I am currently thinking of taking a digital system along with me on my trips, so I can capture ‘behind the scenes’ shots. I think that would be a nice thing to offer - some additional insight to what it was like to be there, in addition to my finished film images.

Assynt Workshop '26

Just heading home from my workshop up in Assynt. Been coming here since 2000. So that is now twenty six years.

We had a mixture of weather this week, but overall, we got some very nice shots. Here are the images that I chose to edit from all of the participants.

What I like to do on the ‘Scottish’ trips, is take a digital projector with me. We have a private room in the hotel and we do a ‘review+edit’ for two hours each morning after the sunrise shoot and breakfast.

It’s hard for me to explain what the ‘review+edit’ is like. I am always encouraging, but I do point out where I think the composition does not work, how it could have been improved (often by moving) and then choose to use the participant’s images to show editing techniques. Rather than assuming my aim is to ‘make the image better’, I like to emphasise that it’s more about conveying concepts. My edits are often not precise enough at the time - I am after all, editing live in front of a group. I have always found that I need to live with my edits for a few days to help my eye adjust. As the week goes on, I then start to show the group how I would assemble a portfolio, and often use one image as a ‘reference’ to help me notice discrepancies in others.

Always the aim is to educate. Never to ‘perfect the images’. So I am not there to micro manage images, and we can sometimes get lost in someone’s feeling that something is ‘not quite right’. With a group of six people, it’s not a good idea to edit by committee. So I often make a point at the beginning of the week that the aim is to show concepts, and not to spend time fine tuning them.

Thanks to everyone who came. We had a great time. I love coming to Assynt and Ullapool.

Portfolio revisioning

It took me two days to edit my new Hokkaido images. As much as I always set aside a whole week to do such a task, I have found that usually by day 2, I’m done. The work is mostly there, and I just need to now sit with it and see how it ages over the next week or so.

Above is the final portfolio. I’m quite happy with it, but I did have to go through a few revisions to get to this final version.

In particular, I struggled with getting the right depth to the darker tones, and I went through a few revisions. First starting off with a much lighter, softer version of the set. On day 3, when I chose to review the completed set, I felt they could go a little darker, so I did just that and was sure I was now complete.

It was only on day five, after taking some time away from the work that I felt they could go darker still.

So here is the previous revision, before I went darker with the blacks. I hope this is informative for you. The main uptake from all of this is that sometimes I have to sit with the work for a while to notice where it needs more work. I do sometimes have to go back and rework images because I feel I haven’t used the full tonal range at my disposal (I don’t have to do this of course, some work requiring a narrower tonal range). But in this instance, I felt the blues in the set could do with being deeper. They slowly became a ‘thing’ for me with this set.

Here is the previous revision. I would compare them to the final set above. Not to say that one is better than the other (you may prefer the previous revision). More to point out that as time goes on and you live with the work, things may be altered and I often have to do this until I feel the set is just right.

Hokkaido Hills

The past few days I’ve been film processing. I always enjoy the process, because as each roll of film appears out of the development tank, and I put it into the stabiliser, I get a glimpse of what I shot.

Glimpses are important, rather than a steady hard look at the work. Impressions are in my book, much more powerful. It’s the lack of detail that’s important to me. When a picture is incomplete in one’s mind, then the imagination goes into overdrive imagining what is there.

It has now been a decade since I started to go to Hokkaido. It’s educational for me to go back to the very first work I created there, and to notice how things changed over time.

Today is my first day selecting and editing. I’ve literally just begun work, and this is the first edit I’ve made.

I’m well aware that as my editing session goes on, things change, and I may come back and re-edit this one. Or, it may not even make the final selection.

I give myself permission to be freeform for the first while, to see what surfaces, to see if a theme emerges. I’ve got to do this, to allow what is there, a chance to surface, and to show me what it is.

Hasselblad film cameras and extreme conditions

The past few years I’ve been experiencing more and more hardware failures in the field with my analog Hasselblad 500 series cameras that I use.

Admittedly, I am using a system that was never designed for the outdoors. Hasselblad film cameras are really studio systems. Plus, they are old now. Most of my kit dates from around the mid 80’s.

What I have learned is that the system requires regular servicing to operate. Buying ‘mint’ or ‘unused’ film backs or bodies from e-Bay may seem like the right thing to do, but in truth if the item has not been used regularly, then the lubricants inside it have probably expired. If you feel any resistance when winding on, the film back, or the body, or both probably need to be serviced and lubed.

I do go to extreme places though. In Brazil the temperatures can go up to 40ºC and the humidity is very high. I always leave my camera gear inside the bag, and I do not take it indoors with me whilst there. I avoid any condensation as much as I can, and when I am forced to bring it indoors, it remains inside the bag for several hours to help the internal compartment acclimatise to the air conditioned room and difference in temperature.

I’ve become accustomed to doing some partial service while I am in the field. For instance, sometimes the film backs jam, and will not advance. There is a simple fix that requires taking off the back plate of the film back and cleaning out a spring that has got some moisture and dirt in it. When this spring does not work, the back will not advance. It’s rather easy to correct, and I now bring a small screwdriver with me for such occasions.

The main issue for me though, is that a combination of dusty, snowy, freezing and humid landscapes that I am taking the machines to, require that I service the equipment regularly now to avoid failure in the field.

Although this post today is perhaps more of interest to anyone shooting film with vintage gear, it is also appropriate for those with digital cameras. Everything takes a beating when we are using them in different landscapes. Everything requires some care and attention, and if one wishes to photography great / interesting light, then we have to risk the camera being in all sorts of weather. Shooting only when it is sunny and dry will lead to your photos being one dimensional.

If I were a digital shooter, I would not be investing in expensive camera systems for my escapades abroad. I would be looking for bargains - and there are plenty to be had now - many digital systems from a decade ago give great results. Cheap camera systems are less of a worry when working in challenging environments. I will be less upset if the camera falls into a river in Iceland, or dies due to humidity in a sand dune complex in Brazil. Practical comes before desirability. Making pictures comes first, and I would like to be able to risk making images in challenging conditions, rather than worrying about some expensive camera system that I end up putting away for fear of environmental damage.

Our friend in Fukushima

Some lovely new images by our intrepid friend. I am impressed to find out Michael is now 72.

City Lux - Ray Metzker

“A fine blend of street and abstract”

I’ve been a lover of street and reportage photography for as long as I’ve been a landscape shooter. I don’t get much of a chance to make environmental portraits as much as I’d like, and in recent years I’ve been trying to get some projects going where I am shooting more of this, but it’s been difficult, due to my landscape workshop schedule.

One of the ways I always like to seek inspiration is in a good photographic book. When I have had periods of burn out, or feeling I need inspiration, I have sometimes returned to some of the books I first got into. They are often a reminder to me of why I got into photography in the first place. It’s good once in a while to reconnect with your earlier self. It’s perhaps a bit of a mental ‘check in’.

Recently, I bought some new photographic books, for some inspiration, and this one - City Lux’ by Ray Metzker was the top priority for me. A photographer who’s books have been out of print for a very long time (and cost me a small fortune to buy), Ray Metzker’s work is a beautiful blend of street and abstraction.

Just check out the cover of the book. Upon first glance once may be forgiven for thinking they are looking at abstract shapes only. Upon further inspection one may also be forgiven for thinking it is the same repeating image, but it’s not. The cover appears to be a contact sheet. Each frame slightly different. Same vantage point, but with different subjects walking into the rays of light that enter the scene.

Ray’s work was all about embracing shadows. Much mystery can be imparted when areas of the frame have no detail whatsoever. Highlights are treated similarly, often with his prints having no mid tones. He is looking to reduce a scene down to it’s structural framework.

But as the contact sheet provides, he understands that shooting for graphic qualities first means finding a location where the light works to his advantage and then waiting for subjects to enter the scene. Planning, recognition of a location that may work, and then adding in the chance encounter. A beautiful blend of planning and experimentation - all there in the contact sheet for us to study.

And Studying City Lux is an education. Not only in utilising spaces, but also at working with the unexpected.

These abstractions, or mirrored patterns are often emphasised by the way that Metzker has chosen to print his work. Seeing extremes in hi-key tones and absolute blacks, we are left with nothing more than the shapes and patterns that I think Metzker saw in his mind’s-eye, when choosing what he was drawn to.

The book City Lux is available from Beyond Words here in the UK. Beyond Words is a small independent book shop run by my friend Neil Mclwraith. Neil is a fountain of knowledge about photography books and a browse through his website will probably inform you of photographers that not only did you not know about, but perhaps introduce you to work that you will be glad you found.

If you are interested in buying this book, then please consider buying your books from small independent book shops such as Beyond Words rather than the Amazon’s of this world.

Voightlander 40mm Single Coated Lens

I’ve been fondly thinking back to my first days making street images back in 2005. I made this beautiful image with 35mm film, and when I look at it printed up, it’s beautiful. I think we often given 35mm film a hard time, but also, I marvel at how much this image looks like a medium format image, all because of the beautiful lens (and conditions of the location) I shot it with.

Tonight I chose to buy another Voightlander Nocton 40mm lens. I remember it having some kind of ‘glow’ to it. It is also tiny, and a real joy to use.

Back in 2005, I was keen to try out some street photography. I have a love for street photography books over landscape books.

I decided to go to Cambodia with three systems:

1. Canon EOS 1v
2. Voightlander Bessa R3a
3. Mamiya 7II

The most unusable system was the Canon. Everyone thought I was a ‘pro’ as soon as they saw the SLR. It wasn’t the noise of the machine. It was just recognisable as a ‘serious’ camera.

I got on very well shooting the little Voightlander Bessa R3a because most folks thought it looked like a toy. They either ignored me, or thought me less intrusive. I liked the 1:1 ratio rangefinder window. I could keep both eyes open and watch someone walk into the frame. I also liked the grey colour of the camera. It is somehow less intrusive or noticeable when held up in front of your face.

I also got on well with the Mamiya 7II camera, despite it being large. It is almost silent, and it looks odd, so folks didn’t take me too seriously. Limited by a close focussing distance of a metre or so, it was mostly a contextual / environmental picture making machine. It was nice to use it for street photography for sure. But I think the one I loved the most was the BessaR3a (which is rather poorly made and the paint flecks off the camera body very quickly).

I’m still dreaming of that Nocton 40mm single coated lens. One of the nicest lenses I ever shot, after the Mamiya 7 lenses, which in my view, are some of best lenses ever made.

Aomori '26

It was the most wintry, snowy conditions I’ve seen in northern Japan for my three visits so far.

I loved the snow covered trunks of the trees on the island, and the mottled reflection in the frozen sea of Japan.

I’m a film shooter. So for me, I find my mind always remembers the strongest images, or at least the images that made the biggest impression on me at the time of the shoot.

This is important. Impressions are a big deal, and I always think we should listen to them.

As a non-digital shooter, I cannot review the images the night I made them, to find out if I’ve made any errors. This may be a limitation but it is also a positive in the way that I am free to enjoy the evening, because there is no pressure to review the work.

But mostly, I have just had to adopt a philosophical approach to this - I shot what I shot, and I can’t change it. So whatever it will turn out to be, will just become apparent once I am home.

It’s mostly a matter of caring for oneself and one’s own creativity. Compassion is key. When dealing with things that you didn’t get right, or images that you failed to capture, it is always best to treat oneself with compassion. Be kind to your mistakes and above all, be kind to your creativity. Nurture it and try to avoid giving yourself a hard time when you perceive failure in your photography.