Washing the dishes

“While washing the dishes, you might be thinking about the tea afterwards, and so try to get them out of the way as quickly as possible in order to sit and drink tea. But that means you are incapable of living during the time you are washing the dishes. When you are washing the dishes, washing the dishes must be the most important thing in your life. Just as when you’re drinking tea, drinking tea must be the most important thing in your life.”

— Thich Nhat Hanh

And so I tell my students, in the spirit of Thich Nhat Hanh and his mindfulness teachings, ‘when you are developing film, developing film must be the most important thing in your life.’

Printing big with Hahnemuhle Photo Luster paper

Today I’ve enjoyed making this A2 colour print (camera for scale). The paper is the versatile Hahnemuhle Photo Luster, a really good all-round paper with a ‘pearl’ level of gloss and a modest texture. You can see something of the nature of the surface in the image below.

It’s always interesting to see how an image if affected by print scale. This is an image I’ve printed before, but it has palpably more impact at A2. This isn’t always true for every image, bigger is not necessarily better, so it’s worth experimenting. It’s always a pleasure to see an image come alive on a printed surface.

The myth of the moment

It’s a central, time-honoured concept that the act of photographic creation happens in a brief moment of time. The idea pervades artistic statements, critical essays, the very language we use to describe our activity as photographers. ‘The moment it clicks’, we say.

A closer look at this idea of the moment raises some interesting questions. Do we perceive this ‘moment’, do we dwell in it in any substantial sense? If my exposure is for one second (not uncommon in my large format practice), I think so. What of 1/10 of a second? Scientists say I am able to, in part because of the speed at which the human perceptual system works. What of 1/60, or 1/125? Now I am not so sure …. 

Somebody might object that it depends on what we mean by dwelling in or being conscious of a certain moment, as against the brute act of perceiving at a subconscious level. Nevertheless, when we speak of intention, we speak of knowing. To question the extent to which we dwell in the moment we press the shutter severs the link between intention and execution. In a curious sense we cannot claim to intend a photograph - at least not wholly - if we cannot claim to be aware of the moment in time of its creation.

For me a photograph is both what a photographer intends and more than that. There is in every act of photographic creation an excess of recording, of visual detail and meaning, that exceeds what the photographer ‘sees’. I find this an enticing more than a damaging prospect; a reason for, rather than against, further inquiry. If the ‘moment’ of the shutter press turns out to be a myth, then it is another way into this interface, this play between intention and meaning that is the photograph.

Please, check your batteries now!

Over the years I've seen countless old cameras brought to me by my students. It's always disheartening to see an otherwise mechanically healthy example that has been destroyed by leaky batteries. It's an all too familiar tale, and you can imagine the disappointment on the student's face when they learn about their camera's fate.

It's been some time since I have used my Leica, life and lockdown conspiring to make this so. The other day I had a strange urge to check it, and, remembering a social media post by Sandeep Surmal, I opened up the battery compartment.

The Leica M6 TTL takes two 1.55V silver cells. The back of the cells were nice and shiny and there was no obvious evidence of leakage. However, when I turned them over I could see that they were just starting to turn, the first acid seepage coming through. I took them out and there was no obvious damage to the battery compartment. Wow, crisis averted!

So, I implore you at this busy time of year to check your cameras. The ones that have sat idle for some time are particularly vulnerable. It's not just cameras that are on this list. Think of light meters and flash units too. You never know, doing this may just save an expensive piece of equipment from an all too familiar fate.

Do you enjoy a film in one format and not another?

I see plenty of photographers who can make Ilford FP4 sing. I appreciate the veneration for this film. I’ve tried it and tried it, and yet, I just can’t seem to make it work in the same way for me. Not, that is, like other Ilford films such as HP5 plus or Delta 100.

The products of our darkrooms / printers are the products of many factors. Factors work not in isolation but form synergies of subject, light, chemistry and paper. The subject that attracts my eye may not be the same as that which attracts yours, and this may begin to explain our different regards for a particular film stock.

Just lately I’ve tried FP4 in 5x4. It’s early days, but I think I’m seeing something different to my usual results. Is it possible that I’m going to get on with FP4 in sheet film in a way that I so far haven’t in 35mm or medium format?

Roger Hicks and Frances Schultz said just this about themselves. They liked FP4 in large format better than the small ones. They saw a magic there for them that was absent in the other cases.

So my question for you today is: have you experienced this? If you aren’t aware of it, is it time to give an old ‘failed’ film another chance in a different format? Who knows, this could be the start of a whole new photographic adventure. It would be interesting to see your thoughts below.

Do you enjoy a film in one format and not another?

Please do leave your thoughts below or on my blog post at: https://t.co/5G1tFGfh3g#filmphotography #believeinfilm #ilfordphoto #fp4 #fp4plus #5x4 #35mm #blog #photoblog #blackandwhitephotography pic.twitter.com/C1eH8DXas6

— Richard Pickup (@richard_pickup) September 16, 2021

Hahnemuhle Bamboo Inkjet Paper

Today I made a test print on Hahnemuhle Bamboo paper. Bamboo is an inkjet paper and part of Hahnemuhle’s Natural Line range.

I have printed colour images before on this paper, but never black and white. I find that with colour images, warm hues are particularly well reproduced and certain complementary colour combinations really sing. This is keeping with Hahnemuhle’s own claims, but I today wanted to test their assertion that the paper is good for black and white too.

The paper has a very attractive surface, which I’ve attempted to show in the above images. Slightly textured, but still largely flat in profile, I was very happy with the way my monochrome piece sat on it.

Surely a paper I will play more with in future work.

New work in progress

Today I’d like to share a print I’ve been working on. The image space is approximately 9 by 11 inches, the paper is new Ilford Multigrade RC Deluxe with a satin finish. The negative was made on my Intrepid 5x4 camera with HP5 plus film and zone system exposure.

I’d normally present a photograph of a print with more aggressive whites, but I’ve held of on this one because of the subtle greys in the top left of the image. The corner is very finely balanced to provide a sense of enveloping mist, while preserving a modicum of tonal density.

The photographer as collector (or, my camera collection is safe ... for now)

What are photographers if not collectors? I’m not entirely sure what it is that they collect: memories, maybe, visual imprints from the world, the action of light on objects, the list goes on.

I read an editorial this week promoting the virtues of reducing one’s worldly possessions. It’s a familiar refrain of today: throw out the things you’ve not used in a year and you will be lighter physically and emotionally. Continue to live life with this philosophy and you will be happier.

Please take this blog entry with a piece of salt, for I am an inveterate hoarder. I do wonder, however, whether there isn’t something very deep-rooted in our desire to keep stuff. Objects help to build our identities and foster memories. They offer a sense of touch, sight and smell that can trigger Proustian moments. Many we associate with particular times in our lives, and some we are compelled to keep through the social contract of the gift.

I wonder if this compulsion doesn’t connect to a much bigger cultural endeavour: the attempt to vanquish our mortality. It is often said that our museums and galleries are simply repositories of efforts to produce something that will out-live - and therefore mark the existence of - their makers. Statues are clearly commemorative and self-aggrandising, but what if a whole gamut of cultural objects weren’t essentially doing the same thing? Does not what we do on a small level in our homes echo this social compulsion to leave a mark? To postpone the inevitable?

It is true that, like many photographers, I have an somewhat unwieldy collection of cameras. I might not exactly be looking for a grand justification to keep them, but, perhaps with the above in mind, I might postpone any drastic cull for a little longer.

Fuji Acros 100

I haven’t shot Fuji Acros before, so here’s a little test shot featuring our cat. It was shot at the box speed of 100 and developed in Ilford LC29 at 1+19 dilution.

Note that this is the old Fuji Acros, and not the newer mark II version which is now readily available.

Instructive mediocrity

I look at my latest 5x4 negatives and I can’t say I am excited by the images. At least not, as pictures.* When shooting 35mm it is easier to accept the principle that most of what we shoot will be mediocre. The ‘hit’ rate is still relatively high because we shoot so many frames. This is clearly not the case with 5x4, where the exposure rate is so much slower.

Yet, I am still happy with the shots. In one, I’ve learnt about shooting with a red filter. In another, I have made a substantial mess of depth of field (there simply wasn’t enough for the subject, and I should have known better). In another, I’ve added to my experience of using multiple exposures in the place of long exposures to convey movement.

Mediocrity? Sure. But, happily, instructive mediocrity.

*To borrow a phrase from Modernist criticism, a successful picture is something more than an image. It is an image that must ‘compel conviction’, must hang together as a whole, a visual narrative, and deliver a sense of rightness and completeness. 

The secret to darkroom satisfaction

If you’ve printed in the darkroom before, you may be familiar with this scenario. You’ve processed your film, made your contact print, and have a shortlist of images to try. You duly take your negatives to the enlarger and begin with the first. Test strips are made, and a work print, and maybe a different grade is trialled. You glimpse some of the print controls that might be applied on the journey to a fine print but aren’t yet sure. Perhaps you even try to apply some. Time passes.

You are beginning to tire, and nagging at you is the thought of those other potential images. What if they print more effectively? What if the path to a final print is more satisfying or even easier with one of those other frames? You give in to temptation and start the test strips for the others. By now you are getting somewhat tired and the printing session is getting a bit frustrating. You’ve been at it for some time, but don’t have anything finished to show for your troubles.

I’ve found a way to avoid this scenario. It’s nothing particularly revolutionary, and is certainly known to makers of fine darkroom prints today and yesterday. The key is to designate the first printing session a ‘look and see’ session. You print to work prints only, and cover all the images that interest you. You mentally sideline the questions about reaching fine prints. You then leave this session with a set of roughs: work print enlargements that allow you to mull over the images in between sessions. You then have the time to produce fine printing plans, returning to the darkroom refreshed at some later time. 

The next session will now be much more satisfying because you know what you want from it: you have done the groundwork - the labour of test strips and work print - and you can concentrate on the subtleties. This is such a simple division, but I’ve found it really does make my darkroom printing more pleasurable. If you don’t already print in this manner, why not give it a go?

Still Life in 5x4

Today I’d like to share a darkroom print with you. It’s a piece that has taken some time to make, thanks to challenges faced at both the capture and printing ends.

The image is of a somewhat austere or minimalistic still life made with a simple vase, dried flower and table arrangement. It was shot with my Intrepid 5x4 camera on Ilford HP5+ film. I tweaked the arrangement several times before I was happy with it, and pushed my camera and lens to their limits. The focal length of my lens was only just appropriate, and I was asking the Intrepid to behave a little more like a monorail than a field camera.

I made two exposures, one roughly at zone VII and one at V (taking the image as a whole). Both are equally good for printing with, although I chose the zone VII one. If you have ever printed large areas of empty tone in a darkroom print, you will know how challenging it can be. The image was not as evenly lit to start with as I would have liked, and then one has to ensure rigorously even development. Any dust on the negative is much more readily evident too.

In my first printing sessions I went down a rabbit warren of burning-in, striving for an even background. The aforementioned problem of uneven lighting made for edges that were too light. Then I had a Eureka moment: this negative might behave much better if I applied a pre-flash first.* I duly followed my idea and the negative printed with relative ease. I was then left to enjoy decisions between a denser print with longer greys, and the more contrasty version you see here. The latter won out, as I felt it more in keeping with my original vision for the piece.

*Pre-flashing involves exposing the paper without a negative, just enough to begin a chemical reaction. No tone is created, so the paper still appears blank. When the main exposure with the negative is made, the denser parts of the image will expose much more readily - and this can prevent the need for difficult burning-in.

Adventures in large format (blog update)

Greetings from Richard Pickup Photography. It’s been some time since I’ve posted a blog update, so I’d like to let you know what I’ve been up to.

By referencing my adventures in large format in the title of this post, I’m tempted to describe a general ‘slowing down’ in my photography work. Perhaps this is indeed the cliché: you get the large format camera; you slow down. Well, yes and no.

The full work print, ready for inspection. The shot was made with Ilford HP5+ 5x4 film.

There’s no denying that I’ve taken far fewer images of late, and that I haven’t produced many finished prints. Unquestionably, doing much more large format work has had an influence on me, and of course it does force one to shoot differently. I am however contemplative and experimental by nature, so the full story is somewhat more nuanced.

I’ve been very busy in the darkroom. I’ve been enjoying using the Intrepid Enlarger, able as I now am to revisit the somewhat large stockpile of 5x4 negatives I’ve accrued since beginning this work in 2017. While printing one particularly difficult negative, I put some pre-flashing to use which prompted a re-appraisal of several older negatives I’d effectively given up on. This is surely one of the joys of darkroom: as your skills develop you inadvertently find solutions to old problems. There’s also so much aesthetic room for manoeuvre in our printing choices that it simply makes sense to go back every now and again.

Using the Intrepid Enlarger to ‘scan’ a 5x4 negative. I used a DSLR camera mounted on a Kaiser copy stand to photograph it.

Another aspect of the Intrepid Enlarger that I’ve been putting to good use is its digital scanning abilities. The LED panel has a wonderful, bright and even light which makes it a great source when combined with a copy stand. The metal negative carriers are a joy to use, and hold negatives flat so they can be photographed (and therefore digitised). This has been another access route to accumulating images from my negatives.

A selection of Intrepid metal negative carriers.

Being in experimental - or contemplative - mode, I’ve been giving thought to darkroom methodology, too. I have some thoughts to share with you in a post for a later date, so watch this space. Producing multiple versions of multiple negatives certainly makes the darkroom worker reflect on efficient working methods. Like I tell my students, this is artistic creation - and labour.

Long Mountain Centre, Shrewsbury. Shot on HP5+ 5x4 film and scanned with the Intrepid Enlarger.

There’s little question that this website helps to enrich my primary job as a photography lecturer, but it’s not all one way traffic. I’ve been inspired by an improvised camera obscura design that a student produced. I built my own cardboard prototype, and have been gazing wistfully at flickering inverted images in various locations. Perhaps some of these will surface on social media before too long.

Casting an eye beyond the darkroom red light (it does happen from time to time), I notice some important changes and developments in the industry. Ilford’s product line refresh is noteworthy, especially as they’ve created a fifth generation of darkroom paper. Naturally, I’ll be investigating. Other companies continue to innovate and introduce new products and, the invasion of viruses notwithstanding, the Photography Show in Birmingham is set to showcase even more analogue this year. We are increasingly spoilt for choice. What a time to be engaged with photography, in whatever form.

Ben Horne 2019 Portfolio Box Review

In my hand I hold a print entitled ‘Reverence’ by large format photographer Ben Horne. At 10x8 inches it is small, easy to handle and inspect. I hold it out, pull it in close, and tilt it, catching the light on its slightly pitted surface. The paper stock is Hahnemuhle’s Photo Rag Baryta, a modestly glossy ground with impressive tonal depth and fine local contrast.

‘Reverence’ print close-up

‘Reverence’ is printed on Hahnemuhle’s Photo Rag Baryta paper

‘Reverence’ depicts a section of forest on a misty day. Whilst predominantly green in hue, it contains a strikingly broad range of supporting colours, from icy blues to punctuating warm yellows. It is a study of a small diorama of nature, bereft of human presence and meddling, calm, sublime, overwhelming yet understated. Despite my growing acquaintance with the kind of impressive micro-detail that 10x8 film can produce, I can’t help but be struck by this aspect here. Yet the most prominent feature in my mind is the presence of light. Not in the scene precisely, but emanating from the print itself. It is the photographer / printer’s job to harness this light and to convey it in the print. This is not magic, but craft (it can sometimes feel like magic in the work of fine printers). In ‘Reverence’, Horne shows off his craft skills.

Exterior of the 2019 Portfolio Box

The print comes from Horne’s 2019 Portfolio Box Set, a set of ten prints in the aforementioned format (shot on 10x8 film, printed on 10x8 paper, with the image a little smaller to leave a border). It is, in the photographer’s own words, a ‘collection of archival pigment prints’ representing his ‘best work of 2019’. Each print is individually numbered and initialled on the rear, and the set as a whole comes from a limited edition of one hundred and fifty. The prints come in a sturdy archival box with an exterior paper wrap bearing Horne’s signature.

Detail showing the artist’s signature of the rear

I received my copy before Christmas, but have patiently left it undisturbed in order to find a quiet moment to write this review. Opening it up was a joy: to see so much printed photographic work in one place, to see a set beautifully and intelligently presented, to ponder the sheer scale of the work that must have gone in to making it. The subject matter and characteristics of ‘Reverence’ are carried all the way through the set. Horne concentrates on small corners of an American natural landscape without human presence. He is very attuned to the possibilities of colour in his chosen scenes and clearly seeks a kind of meditative calm. There is a split between tableaux shot around the 300mm focal length mark, and close-up details from the land.

‘Coyote Twilight’ by Ben Horne

Stylistically, Horne is no avant-gardist, being instead firmly rooted in a long tradition of American landscape photography. He is well known for his well-presented website and Youtube tutorials / blog, and can best be described as a photographer / adventurer. As these prints attest, he is also a craftsman and a fine printer. Considering the sheer scale of work in this portfolio, he is also prodigious in his output (in 10x8 format, no less). I can’t quite wrap my head around how he manages to make so much work in such a short timescale. Horne’s adventures can be followed on his excellent Youtube channel, where he also generously shares many technical details.

‘Secluded’ by Ben Horne

You will see from the tenor of this piece that I am more than happy to recommend this box. My reasoning is twofold. First, I think as a product it represents exceptional value for money. You are getting a sizeable body of work, in the tradition of printers of yore, for a relatively modest price. The production values and presentation are second none. Second is something I always have in mind when looking to acquire the prints of other photographers. There is a huge amount to be learned from being able to spend time with, and closely inspect, work by accomplished printers. You can work at your own pace in thinking about a range of technical choices, from paper stock, to composition, to depth of field. You can return again and again to the work and commit the aspects you like best to your operational storeroom of ideas. That is certainly the case with Ben Horne’s Portfolio Box.

At the time of writing only fifty sets from the edition still remain. You can order your copy by following the link below.

Photographing without a camera

The couple sit in silence. Both sit upright, almost uncomfortably so. They look not at each other but straight ahead. Into the cafe, perhaps, or out of the windows beyond. Or into that space of daydream focus: neither near nor far. No words are exchanged between them. Their silence is that of a couple who know each other so intimately as to need no words. Their understanding and togetherness is a priori.

I imagine framing them. I think about the 35mm frame, with a crop to suggest a near panoramic view. I imagine them both looking into the distance, to the viewer and beyond. I really like the idea of accentuating the space between them: I want to emphasise the distance in their togetherness. It would be my job to ensure that no uninvited objects creep into the frame. The view should be clean and clinical, the background plain, continuous. Their postures should dominate. If I am lucky I might catch a moment when they both simultaneously raise a coffee cup. Together in silence, mirroring one another, yet somewhere else.

This is a photograph I have seen and not made. It is an exercise in visualisation, a fine image that I didn’t make. Sometimes I enjoy making pictures as much without a camera as with.

Man in a Hat, Mahon

Taken with a Huawei P20 Pro smartphone.

Monmouth View print

Following some of my labours over the summer, I’m happy to present a new print for sale, Monmouth View.

It’s taken on Ilford Delta 100 5x4 film and has been scanned for printing on fine art inkjet paper. I chose Hahnemuhle Photo Rag for its beautiful matt cotton surface, and I think it suits the wide but subtle tonality of the image.

The image size is 19 x 24 cm, but I’ve printed it on a larger sheet of paper which has been hand-trimmed. The generous paper shape hints at a larger mount / frame arrangement, although naturally the buyer can choose. Some people like to have a mount that shows off the paper, and this print size allows for that.