holgaversary

may 16th, 2009 marked my one-year holgaversary. i ordered my first holga (my first "as-adult" film camera) on may 16th, 2008.

i missed my one year flickr anniversary (april 26th, i think) and the one year anniversary marking my mom buying me, as an early b-day present, the canon powershot s5 (maybe early feb, 2008?), so i was glad to actually remember and mark the holgaversary by going out and taking a few shots with the holga.

i'm frankly amazed that the canon powershot led to the events and the enjoyment i've experienced over the past year. and i recall so vividly, when my mom offered to buy me the powershot, i felt it would be a fairly ridiculous expense. I aleady had a decent digital camera--not one that i ever really liked using--but it served well for research purposes. and the only photos i took at that point were images of student work. but my mom had bought herself another canon digital camera and i was testing it out to teach her how to use it. it was such a hoot to work with, i couldn't stop using it and trying new things. she kept saying, "okay--do you want that one and i'll get myself another?" i really didn't. her camera was fun to use but i already had one and it served me well for my research and scholarship. she offered to buy me my own camera a few more times that weekend. like i said, it was hard to stop taking pics with it once i started. i knew i wanted something with more manual controls, so we ended up going out and looking around and i settled on the powershot s5.

once i started taking pics with the powershot--and i was quickly-addicted, sometimes taking 300 shots a day just to experiment, to play around--i put off joining flickr, thinking it would be way too daunting and overwhelming. shortly after i joined, i realized flickr's teaching potential. i'm not sure how or where i came across the first holga photograph i had seen, but i was transfixed. i started researching holgas, looking at other photographs and then i got one of my own. it was a couple months before i started developing my own b/w film, another month till i started developing color at home, so there was a lot of time spent waiting for film to come back from the place i sent it for developing. speaking of diy color developing, i guess i'd say hands-down that this is the thing i was most scared to do and the thing that i'm most glad i tried given how much money it's saved me over the past 8 months or so. again, if not for the advice and generosity of folks on flickr, well, i definitely probably wouldn't have known you could do diy color developing. as for other of the years' high points, low points, regrets, finds, misses, challenges, etc.:

so about diana+. wow. what a rough time this has been. when things work between us, they are amazing. the panda photo from the san diego conference trip is still one of my all-time favs. problem is, most of the time we don't work or play well together. ah, diana.


as for favorite films: hands down, for b/w it has got to be adox chs art (120 or 35mm) and efke kb 400 (35mm). the holga train station image above was taken with adox chs art 100.

what i'm not digging: surprisingly, higher speed films. ilford delta 3200, even the fuji 800 speed films. i thought i'd really like working with the higher speed films--color especially--but i've just not been feeling it.

some 60-70 cameras (yikes) later, i have to say that the camera i am most glad that i bought (and i say this only because i was going to pass on it) was the ultronic panoramic. i actually picked up two at resale shops when i went home for easter. that the camera was only a buck is pretty amazing. i was incredibly amazed though when i saw the images it was capable of taking. wow. i'm really, really glad i didn't pass on this one thinking that because it looked like junk the images would be junk--and not the interesting kind of junky i really love.

what i imagined i'd be doing more of at this point in time: most definitely, pinhole photography. i picked up a 35mm zeroimage and i really, really liked working with it. my plans were to spend this spring and summer getting into 4x5 pinhole photography. i figured that i'd go with another zeroimage as soon as i saved money for that and for the 4x5 tank, film, etc. that i agreed to start volunteering my time taking pics of rescued animals, animals needing homes and of so many, many pitbulls, kind of put the brakes on the pinhole plans.

what i've most enjoyed doing: most definitely, buying cameras and seeing if i'll be able to flip the lenses on them without breaking the cameras or shutters or lenses and without hurting myself. thanks again to folks on flickr and the incredible resources to be found there, my first flip was with the brownie hawkeye flash. --along with the ultronic, holga, and zenit em, this has definitely been one of my favorite cameras with which to take photographs of llamas in the springtime.

pinhole. pinhawk. (pinheck?)

maybe my post about shooting digital vs. film angered the digital gods who, in turn, ensured that i will never take a pinhole image that isn't "soft" or blurry. . .

with the help, support and advice of two (most generous) people on flickr (i.e., look here and here) i set about modifying one of my brownie hawkeye flash cameras. i had debated buying another zero image but can't currently justify the cost. bottom line, i wanted to try a medium format pinhole.

at the risk of sounding like a one trick (or one move) pony, this was the kind of sharpness and detail i was going for but i ended up getting much softer, blurrier results (see below. . . and then sigh with me).

soft, blurry and funky is usually fine with me--as are scratched, watermarked and/or dusty negatives. as a matter of fact, as far as the funky goes, i often find myself trying to ensure that every camera i work with produces holga-esque images. which begs the question: why not just shoot always and everything with the holga? answer: cause that would be too easy--it's more fun to produce images that might have been taken with a holga but were not.

if anything, it could be my experience with digital cameras (and their results) that informs my goals when it comes to working with pinhole cameras. i was bummed that my matchbook images were much, much softer than others i had seen online (i.e., those that made me want to try pinhole photography in the first place), same goes for the images i took with the zero image and now the pinhawk. and i swear, i'm not spinning around with the camera, not shaking it, etc. while taking these shots. i'm working with a tripod and/or setting the camera on a stable surface but i do think that i might introduce some disruption at the start and end of each exposure (i.e., in the process of uncovering and covering the pinhole). in this way, i figured that the shorter exposures would be blurrier than the 1/2 hour or longer exposures. though not the most patient of folks, i'm not against practicing in order to achieve better--or just different--results. it's just been frustrating to try so many different things--size of pinhole, type of camera, distance from pinhole to film, etc.--and to end up feeling like i'm not making any kind of progress toward my goal.

faux bratz cam pinholes (a sampling)

with the help of this most excellent resource, i tried making my own matchbox pinhole camera, starting it last night, finishing it this morning. i then shot and developed a test roll. hmmm.

okay, to be totally honest, this was the look i was hoping for. very optomistic, i know. but what i ended up getting. . . well, the final images (see below) looked like they might instead have been shot with my modified bratz cam. sigh. i'm guessing that the size of the pinhole was a wee bit too big.

if i had to list the things at which i decidedly do not excel, the list would include driving, taking/making accurate measurements, taping things carefully, cutting things accurately (complicating things is my aversion to using most sharp or dangerous tools, but especially exacto knives). bracketing the driving issue, all of these other skills were needed for a proper pinhole construction. if nothing else, i am hopeful and persistent so after seeing my finished products, i revamped my matchbox pinhole, subbing out the old pinhole for a new, more slimly-pointed version. we'll see how test roll two goes.

why knitting never took

I was recently contacted by a current student who was asking for my help/input on an aspect of her final project. The student, who shall remain nameless but who, in profile, might be simply be referred to as “Braid” is working on a project that explores (by way of Robert Brooke’s work) Erving Goffman’s concept of underlife as it relates to student identity. Thus, for the past few weeks “Braid” has been contacting, via email, members of the class, asking them to bring something to class and/or do something in class that demonstrates or otherwise enacts some aspect of their non-student or extracurricular identity. Having planned on incorporating me into the project, I received an email from “Braid” who wrote (and I’m paraphrasing now): “Dr. ____, I wondering if you had any thoughts about what you might do to demonstrate aspects of your underlife? I was going to ask you to take photos in class but since you did that the other day, I’m not sure what to ask you to do, and thought you might have some ideas for me. I had thought about asking you to bring one of your cats to class, but that might be too difficult to do. . .if it’s even allowed. Any suggestions you have would be greatly appreciated. Sincerely, Braid.”

Taking the email as a sign (though "Braid" assured me that this hadn't been her intent) that I have, indeed, become the person I’ve tried to deny having actually become—a middle-aged college professor whose life beyond researching, writing, attending conferences, and teaching revolves primarily around her cats (and more recently, photography)—I called my friend. “There’s got to be more, right?” I ask. “Well,” she says, “Hmmm. Maybe you can bring in some of your baskets of candy? Would that work? When I think of you, I think of all the candy you have squirreled away in your house.” Not wanting to haul the candy to class and (more than this) not wanting to have to explain why I won’t let anyone have some candy (i.e., because some of it, though I don’t remember which, is likely 2-3 years old), I ask again, “But isn’t there something else? There’s got to be something else that I do in addition to the research, writing, teaching, photography, and collecting candy, right?” I considered then how I might work into class discussion how much I like shopping at the dollar store but this road leads (as most others do nowadays) to photography. But the truth is, I like going to the dollar store because it's one of the few places i can drive to and because they have inexpensive frames, great deals on electrical tape for the holga, and because I’m always hoping that I’ll find a toy camera there. Students are more or less familiar with my aversion to driving so that aspect of my identity would hardly register as new or note-worthy.

But then I think about how I used to knit. (I’d never consider myself a knitter but I definitely used to knit.) Not being a fan of change, I thought the transition here would go more smoothly if I could carry with me into this new life aspects of, or habits associated with, my old life. Researching, teaching and writing articles was one aspect of my old life that would carry over here—giving me the sense that nothing much had really changed—but I thought maybe knitting could be another. Plus, I’d finally have a hobby. So, just prior to accepting this job and moving here, I’d asked a friend to teach me how to knit. I then began collecting and testing yarn at roughly the same pace I’ve been collecting and testing new cameras and film. Two poorly constructed scarves later, I became someone who used to knit. And someone with a ton of leftover yarn. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed knitting. And during the first semester or two, I would occasionally foreground this aspect of my non-professor identity as I found that knitting in class on large-group workshop days tended to provide students a chance to talk about their work and how it was progressing. I’d still be able to attend closely to what students said (perhaps because I could not afford to look at them for fear of losing my place, my listening skills were amplified or at least greatly enriched), but whatever part of my brain was most needed to stay on track with the knitting prevented me from talking too much. And this tended to work out well for everyone.

But knitting eventually fell by the wayside (though the baskets of yarn still remain front and center, strategically placed in different corners of the living room) and I’ve been thinking about why it is knitting never seemed to stick—why it never elicited the same kind of commitment or enthusiasm that photography has. Having always considered myself a book-learner (but being one who, in actuality, learns best by watching and talking about things with others), I think the main mistake I made with knitting is that after moving here I depended upon books for my information and inspiration. The truth is, I’d probably still be knitting if I had someone to knit with, someone from whom I might learn new things by watching what they do (and how), or someone with whom to simply discuss all things knitting. In comparing knitting to photography I certainly do not mean to elide their differences—the difference, say, between composing with yarn and composing with light—but, for me, my interest in both was partially motivated by the desire to experiment with new materials and composing techniques and to see if or how these experiments might map back onto (or transform) the way I’ve learn to think about composing things with/in words. If I could learn to compose something with yarn, where might that lead? What other materials might I attempt to weave together?

Had there been (or had I found) something like Flickr-for-Knitters three years ago, I might well have written back to “Braid” volunteering to knit something in class one day. How’s that for professor underlife? "Braid" (and her classmates) would then know that their professor’s underlife was not merely defined by cats but also decidedly informed by her passion for creating scarves, socks, hats, and the occasional tea cozy. Or maybe the reason why I never took to knitting has more to do with photography being a genetic, in-the-bloodline thing as there are far more photographers/directors/editors in the family than there are knitters. Though how this might inform the learning by observation/participation argument I’m hoping to make here doesn’t entirely follow. Rather, my sense is that after all those years of having to "pose," "hold still," "no--try that again!" and, finally, having to see myself in photos or in moving film makes a solid argument for my taking up knitting as a hobby. Otherwise put, I never had the occasion to play with cameras when I was growing up nor was I ever in the position to learn (or see) what happened between posing for a picture and then seeing the final result.

So I was a month or so into experimenting with film cameras this summer when I told my friend (not the candy friend, but another) that I hoped, within a year’s time, to try my hand at developing my own film. Like the good book learner I imagined I was, I ordered a bunch of books on the process, and began wondering then if maybe a more reasonable goal to set for myself was that within two year’s time I’d try my hand at developing my own film. At the time, I had been learning a lot from Flickr (or as I tended to refer to it throughout the summer as Flickr U or the U of Flickr). But my process was mainly one of searching for images I liked, trying to approximate them and/or looking at descriptions and tags to learn what camera the person used and (provided one like it could be had easily or cheaply) trying that camera. Otherwise put, I hadn’t really been using the discussion groups as a resource.

As I think about things today, I’m inclined to argue that the discussion threads were largely responsible for cementing my interest in, and enthusiasm for, photography as they revealed to me aspects of the process and potentials for experimentation that I wasn’t able to infer or glean from viewing specific images. (One exception to this would be the images of people’s at home development set-ups, images for which I've been incredibly grateful.) Bracketing off for a moment the most excellent discussions about modifications and the “how to unstick a sticky shutter” threads, where things really started kicking in for me is when I started running across (or seeking out) postings with links to videos and/or still images that illustrated specifically how people went about doing things. Though it’s decidedly text-centric (at least when compared to watching a video of someone going through the process of spooling film onto a reel or doing a Polaroid emulsion lift), I remain indebted to this site as it helped persuade me that I needn’t necessarily wait two years (or read a million books, take a couple classes, etc.) before trying my hand at developing b/w film at home. The experience of going through the motions once, twice, three times on my own (again, thanks largely to this site combined with videos that demonstrated what it looked like, what one needed to do, etc. to get the film from the camera into the tank), provided me with the a kind of foundation-for-experimentation on which I could build—something I want to argue that I didn’t really have with knitting—and it both informed and directed the kinds of information and links I sought in the discussion threads.

Certainly, this leaves me with little to offer "Braid"--this path too leads back to photography (and flickr and process)-as-underlife. But perhaps, just for old times' sake, I can find a way to justify devoting a potion of class time to having the class watch me watch videos on how to knit a scarf.

on digitial differences

shortly after i began experimenting with film, i began searching flickr film groups for inspiration and tips. i couldn't help but note a number of digital-hating groups and i swore then that i wouldn't position myself that way. after all, some of my best friends (or fav photos) have been digital. (take, for example, this over-exposed iris.) never mind that when i joined flickr at the end of last april, i was taking two or three hundred digital pics a day, experimenting with composition, exposure, different kinds of lighting, etc.

but then, just the other day, the most curiously discomforting thing happened. i was checking out other people's work on flickr and ran across an image i loved and that i (wrongly) assumed was taken with a film camera. eager to add that camera to my collection, i searched the name of the camera and was--dare i say it? disappointed to find that the image was taken with a digital camera. at that moment, i hesitated about whether or not i even wanted to make the image a favorite.

i was left wondering/asking, "has it happened to me? will i soon be joining the various 'digital sucks' groups?" this would, of course, be dishonest since, technically speaking, all my images on flickr are digital images as i'm converting the negatives to jpgs before uploading or printing them. still, how to account for my disappointment at learning that the image i thought was taken with a film camera wasn't? actually my first response was kind alike, "oh, wow, that's so not fair."

and it wasn't that i was feeling i had been tricked--that what i thought was something taken with a film camera wasn't and it also wasn't a matter of my having camera envy (the digital camera that took the image was/is waaay out of my price range). it was more a matter of wanting to say to the image (as crazy as it sounds), "wow, you might have been created with film--sucks for you that you weren't." and even with this, i realize that it sounds as though i've gone to the other side.

but i'll insist that i haven't. in fact, i've spent the past couple of days wondering, asking myself this question: "why would someone choose to shoot digital (whether exclusively or every now and then) when film remains an option--(assuming film does remain an option for them)?" . . .and in the case of the image I assumed was film, i know film remains an option.

no doubt about it, i've not much used my canon powershot since i began experimenting with film. and when i do, it's usually employed as a light meter. to be fair, working with film is still new--and therefore still a novel experience for me. i started working with film mid-june and i only got into diy developing at the start of august. in this way, my main objective/motive is not necessarily to take good pictures but to learn what's possible to do--with different cameras, different films, different development techniques. having recently gotten to the point where there's nothing new that i'm eager to try (i.e., i haven't the funds or even the space left to keep acquiring new cameras, there's not a development technique or a mod i'd be capable of doing that i'm eager to try), what i appreciate most about these months of experimentation is that i'm finally in a position to say, "okay, based on what i've learned or tried thus far, i feel strongly that in this context, b/w film in a flipped lens bhf is the way to go" or "for this, i really want to use velvia and the holga." or, "I'd like to see what the bratz cam does in this context." what i've noticed, however, is that i rarely find myself thinking, "okay--for this, digital is the way to go."

and part of this is that i enjoy the process of film, feeling as though i'm doing more by way of participating in the making of the images. maybe i'd feel differently about the issue of participation if i had gotten into more post-processing techniques. as it is, whether i'm shooting digital or film, i rarely do a whole lot more than resize, adjust levels, do a little unsharp masking, maybe convert to b/w. in this way, the bulk of my participation takes place before/while shooting the images and prior to uploading them to flickr or printing them up. in this way, shooting digital feels a bit like eating out: i want something decent and soon, so i'll opt to go here. problem is, i really enjoy preparing meals for myself--i love the shopping, the deciding, the seasoning, the waiting, etc. perhaps not surprisingly, i'm not a huge fan of the post-processing part of meal prep--cleaning up, putting things away, etc.

so back to the question: why (or when) would someone choose to shoot digital if/when film remains an option? most recently, i offered to take pics of members of one of my classes and to post them to flickr so that other members of the class could grab images for their final projects. i had asked students to contact me if there were particular kinds of pics they wanted to have for their projects. for a previous class session, i had brought with me to class my yashica-D but it was difficult (given the lighting in the windowless classroom coupled with my not wanting to ask people to hold still while i metered, focused, etc.) to get many good shots. when a student contacted me requesting head and full body shots of each class member, i opted to use the canon powershot (see images left and below). but again, in this case, the main objective/motivation was to get decent shots, and to provide this student with as many shots as i could--to provide her with plenty from which to choose. and i think there were about 300 in all.

so where to go from here? cause the thing is, when i started getting into film, it was simply about learning more about potentials for writing with light, and, in the end, preparing myself to have more choices, to fit the camera, film and technique to the situation. and it bothers me that when i think about digital i think of it as back-up: if the film doesn't turn out at least i'll have something to work with, to remember this trip, this person, etc. but that's not what i was thinking it would be, how it would end up. so maybe, since i've kinda hit a plateau with the film (again, i don't really have the time, money or even desire to test new-to-me film cameras or dev techniques--though i'm sure the desire would come back if i could afford my dream camera--the Kiev 88), i should begin reading up on and experimenting with things i can do with digital, post-process. cause, really, i don't think it is a matter of being pro-film or anti-digital but a matter of liking (needing? needing to continue learning from?) the kind of participation i am currently associating with as well as experiencing while working with film.