If there is any one product that has to do with my own personal success (and millions of other photographers too for that matter), it is Kodak. When I was going to Brooks Institute School of Photography, it seemed that nearly everything we used was Kodak yellow and red. Kodak fixer could indeed fix anything, we were only as good as the Kodak film we shot, and color was Kodak vibrant. Like many other professional photographers, I love the company and what it has done for the culture of photography. So it with great sadness that I learned of Kodak’s filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in January and their intent to exit the digital capture business.

It’s like Apple dropping computers or Jack Daniel’s switching to milk. It ain’t fittin, as they say. You really know that the world’s gone to hell if Kodak isn’t making photographic stuff. Fuel up the rocketship.

Kodak essentially invented the concept of “the snapshot,” with the very first Kodak camera in the late 1880’s. For the first time, nearly anyone could make a photograph. Their motto was “You push the button, and we do the rest.” For all intents, Kodak WAS photography.

Kodak's webpage announcing their reorganization. This still seems a bit surreal, and almost like it's from the universe next door and not ours. I imagine that we'll know it's real when we can't get Kodak products anymore. I dread that day.

A lot of us photographers have been watching Kodak’s slow demise for quite some time now, and are not all that surprised that it has come down to this Chapter 11 status. It’s not a happy or unexpected realization by any means, but we still hope that Kodak will rise out of the ashes. If I were a Wall Street Journal investigative reporter, I’d look into the section below titled “Did Kodak make the nails for their own coffin?” I’m sure that there are many nuances to this story that the public is not privy too, but us professional photographers have been  bearing witness to a few decades worth of missteps that more than likely had something to do with their downfall.

Just last week I was shooting Kodak Tri-X black & white film with a wide-field camera. Not for nostalgia's sake, but because I needed some cool cityscape photos in black & white.

Abridged Kodak Story

In order to understand the above webpage describing Kodak’s exit out of dedicated capture devices, you really need to understand who they were and examine the core of their essence, so here goes, please bear with me. This story could actually be published in book length, but since this is a blog, here is the McNeil condensed version (part of this blog entry was plucked out of my lecture notes from when I taught a History of Photography course).

In the early 1870’s, photographers couldn’t even buy pre-made negatives, film did not exist. This is a special area of research for me, as I have a collection of glass plate negatives that marks the time at the cusp between when photographers had to make the collodion hand coated negatives and when they were able to simply purchase ready-made dry plate negatives. Photographers had to hand-coat their own glass plates (which was closer to alchemy than science) and essentially made their own negatives.

Large format hand coated wet plate collodion negative that predated the manufacture of film. Negative by Felix Bonfils at the ruins of Capernaum, from the McNeil collection. You can easily see where the photographer was carefully painting the negative with a black opaque material to render a white sky, because the collodion wasn't capable of a proper exposure of the sky while photographing a landscape. The wet plate collodion negative was only sensitive to blue light.

I learned many of the nuances of glass plate negatives from a scholar at the George Eastman House by the way (she spent the afternoon carefully examining my 1870’s & 1880 glass plate negatives made by the famous Felix Bonfils). The concept of being able to buy photographic film hardly existed prior to Kodak’s arrival. There were a number of international companies that made dry plate negatives, but it was Kodak who transformed it into an amateur phenomenon, which created millions of new photographers. It means that more than any other company, Kodak transformed photography  into a common practice for nearly anyone to use, and they did it on a global scale.

When I think of Kodak, I think of the entire culture of photography since the late 1800’s, and especially how they’ve dominated nearly every phase of the culture and industry of photography for so long, most notably during the entire 20th century. In this sense, Kodak is nearly a quintessential or archetypal model of American industry. Kodak obviously didn’t invent photography, but rather stepped in nearly 50 years later to make photography easily available to the world for the first time.

Kodak round photo from the first Kodak camera, dated late 1800's, from the first generation of cameras that used roll film. Library of Congress, number 3g04797u. This is an uncropped download that shows a visual aesthetic with the first Kodak snapshots (the photo is a bit askew, but this is the way it was presented from the archive). Kodak learned early that women were primary consumers of their products, partly because women made most of the family snapshots, and partly just because they were damn good photographers. Therefore, Kodak aimed much of their advertising and corporate strategies towards women.

A quirky bit of history has the Reverend Hannibal Goodwin teaching bible studies with lantern slides in the mid-1880’s. He was looking for a way to make this easier, and discovered that he could transfer the texts onto a type of flexible film called nitrocellulose and filed a patent for it in 1887, two years before Kodak’s patent for nearly the same thing. Goodwin contended that the patent was rightfully his, and sold it to the Ansco company, which sued Kodak for it and won a five million dollar judgement years later, in March of 1914. This little scenario had to do with the invention of roll film, which essentially acted as a literal basis for photography for over 100 years, plus made motion picture film possible.

Kodak mass produced film to create the revolution in photography that made it available to nearly anyone. The key phrase here is mass availability, ease of use and affordable prices. Roll film is what made this happen, and it is likely the number one technological advance that moved photography into popular culture.

A scholar could make the assertion that George Eastman was a visionary, and his powerful personality had everything to do with Kodak’s success as a large corporation. This is a critical stance, because I’ll also make the claim that without a visionary leader at the top, a company can flounder, and when important aspects of a company are left to committees to determine, things can go drastically wrong. Eastman died in 1932.

Eastman was an astute business person, and could be compared to the Bill Gates of his day in that instead prioritizing camera production, he set Kodak’s priority on the manufacture of film. It’s kind of what Bill Gates and Microsoft did with computers regarding selling the operating system, and let others fight it out with building the computers. It meant that Kodak became the de facto near-monopoly for the sale of film, and in fact held many of the roll film patents.

Throughout the entire 20th century, Kodak dominated the industry and culture of photography. It became clear in the 1940’s that other countries could manufacture the high-end cameras more affordably and Kodak gave up that part of the industry. Up until then they made a number of professional level large format cameras and lenses, in addition to cameras such as the legendary Ektra and classic Kodak Bantam Special. It became clear that Japan could manufacture high quality cameras at more affordable prices, so Kodak gave up that segment of the camera market and prioritized affordable snapshot cameras that of course encouraged the use of high volumes of their film.

Kodak Bantam Special from 1936. In my opinion, this was the most beautiful camera ever designed. It is ultra-compact (around 3 inches wide), made of precision machined parts with an aluminum shell, was fast to operate and made high quality photographs on 828 sized film. It costed $110.00 new, which translates to $1,793.75 in 2012 dollars (according to the Consumer Price Index inflation calculator).

The Kodak Bantam Special was designed by the legendary designer Walter Teague. It had a lightning fast f/2 lens that allowed high quality photos to be made with the slower ISO Kodachrome film. This was a camera for the true photographic connoisseurs who only wanted the best of the best, which of course means that I use one, even today (B&H sells 828 film for this camera). The pre-war versions used the German Compur shutters; Kodak was starting to use German parts for some of their cameras.

By the mid-to late 1900’s it was clear that Kodak really didn’t have any real rivals with film manufacture, even as there were dozens of other excellent film producers. Kodak was relegated to the production of amateur cameras (millions of units per camera model), having given up on the manufacture of professional quality cameras in favor of amateur versions, where volume was the key to success. Not only that, but as mentioned earlier, the cameras were not the key income producer, it was the film that Kodak was targeting with their largest volume of sales. Kodak also had the near monopoly with professional quality films too, it’s where pros went to get the film that defined their livelihoods. Kodak spent millions of dollars on research and development to assure that they stayed on top as the company that had a reputation for making the best films in the world.

The Kodak Brownie was produced in many incarnations and is one of the all-time volume sellers for cameras in the world. They were made of cheap materials and easily mass produced to sell to the masses. Everyone was supposed to be able to afford one, even people in the lower classes who couldn’t afford luxuries; Eastman’s philosophy was to make photography available to everyone. Many photographer’s first cameras (including myself) were Kodak Brownies.

Kodak’s most legendary film was the Kodachrome slide film, which was only discontinued last year as a casualty of the digital photography revolution. Their other flagship film was black and white Tri-X film, which is still manufactured today (and is what I ask my own students to use in our black and white film class, by the way). By the mid-1970’s Kodak sold an astounding 90% of the film in America; nearly a monopoly. These were the good times, and darker events were to soon unfold.

The Center for Creative Imaging in Maine was "THE" place to learn digital photography back in the early 1990's. It's where I learned many aspects of digital photography; it was an awe-inspiring place to learn, because Kodak spared no expense in making it the state of the art facility in the world for digital photography.

Did Kodak make the nails for their own coffin?

1st Nail: Ektachrome & the advent of Fujifilm

To begin with, I’ll make the assertion that these seven Kodak missteps happened because there wasn’t a George Eastman or Steve Jobs type visionary leader at the top to cut through all the nonsense and simply see that things got done, period. No messing around or heads would roll. I’m betting that not only did heads not roll, but there wasn’t any one entity held responsible for this long list of failures. My bet is that it was the board of directors trying to do some very difficult tasks via committee and it simply did not work. Steve Jobs would have told you straight out that some things you simply do not vote on, and in order to make innovation a reality, you must have a very strong-willed, tenacious leader taking charge and seeing that bad things absolutely did not happen, at  least not on your watch.

So in a very real sense, not only did bad things happen, they also happened in slow motion over many decades, and by this January’s Chapter 11 filing, there was hardly anything anyone could do to stop the downward spiral.

In my opinion, one of the big Kodak missteps happened throughout the 1970’s. For some reason, Kodak did not apply a high level of quality control over their Ektachrome films. Many of the 35mm versions of Ektachrome were simply awful with obvious color shifts and had a tendency to fade fairly quickly.

One of the drawbacks with Kodachrome was that it took a long time to process, and pros wanted a film that could be processed quickly and without the highly specialized labs that Kodachrome required. Even though it was the best film ever made, Kodachrome took too long to process in this speeded up world. I can remember sending packets of film to the closest Kodachrome lab in Palo Alto via many of the new overnight shipping companies that were springing up at this time.

Ektachrome slide film was supposed to fill the need for fast, same day processing and it only required a more basic process called E-6 chemicals and processing equipment. From what I understand, it was also supposed to use less toxic chemicals than the Kodachrome compounds. At any rate,  many of the Ektachrome versions fell right on their faces as dismal failures. Professionals were beyond belief that Kodak would release a substandard film, and voted with their feet by simply not buying the film. In the meantime, a company named Fujifilm in Japan was working on producing a high quality transparency film that could use the easier and more affordable E-6 same-day processing that didn’t have to be shipped to a specialized lab.

Fujifilm stepped in during the early 1980's and filled the gaping void left by Kodak.

Fujifilm came forth with a beautifully rich film that had the high color saturation, superfine grain, and accuracy that came nearest to the best of what Kodachrome had to offer. Pros didn’t have to deal with the awful Ektachrome anymore and Fujifilm became a nearly instant bestseller and took over a large segment of the film market that Kodak had owned for decades. It should have served as a wake-up call to Kodak that they were vulnerable to outside companies taking over a market segment that Kodak thought was invincible. Fujifilm only got better, and during the decades of the 1980’s and 1990’s Fujifilm had the audacity to displace Kodak and their E-6 line of transparency films. Kodak’s response was too little, too late and Fujifilm’s sales skyrocketed.

2nd Nail: Disc film… hush, sweep it under the rug, quick

This is more minor, but worth mentioning. Kodak was experimenting with a new film format called Disc Film. Kodak was answering the call for even more compact cameras, and it needed a more compact film to make it work, which is why Disc cameras and film came on the scene. The photos were too grainy even under the best circumstances and it was eventually discontinued due to low sales. A number of other film companies also made disc film, but none of them really had any success with it. Disc film was notable however, because it reflected the consumer’s desire for more compact cameras that made good photos.

3rd Nail: The Polaroid debacle, oh no

In my opinion, Kodak made a mistake by using the Polaroid instant film technology without bothering to buy rights to their use. The courts agreed, and in 1986 Kodak had to discontinue the manufacture of their instant films because it was infringing upon Polaroid’s patents.  This was a significant third strike against Kodak in the 1980’s and photographers and consumers were starting to wonder if perhaps Kodak was losing an edge in the world of photography. Kodak was still a powerhouse though, and could have recovered easily from these setbacks, but a downward cascade was set in motion.

The digital repreive

The bright spot in the above was that Kodak was taking the lead with inventing digital technology that was to set the stage for the transition to digital photography. In this sense, Kodak was in fact playing the role of being a visionary company by imagining the future of photography. Kodak came forth with a flurry of inventions and new patents for digital photography, and also found themselves collaborating with a large number of new players in the emerging field of digital photography.

By the early 1990’s the desktop publishing revolution had taken off, and programs such as Photoshop quickly became industry leaders on the computer side of the equation, as did Apple computer for the desktop of choice for digital photographers. Kodak released their first consumer level digital cameras in the early 1990’s, but they were fairly expensive and the public still didn’t have the infrastructure to really use the digital photographs. It wasn’t until 1997 that Kodak was able to market a megapixel point and shoot digital camera for under $1,000.00, so digital photography for the general public still wasn’t a reality yet because they were too expensive for the average consumer (it was roughly $1,400.00 adjusted for inflation in 2012 dollars).

Kodak DC120 digital camera that was the $1,000.00 price buster in 1997. I know this camera well, because I purchased the model immediately previous to this one, but it was badged with the Chinon brand, the ES-3000.

In 1995 the ES-3000 was priced at $1,400.00, and since I was going to make digital photography my livelihood, I purchased one. It was large, awkward and generally clunky, but hey, it was digital! It made 1/3 of a megapixel photos and represented the first generation of digital cameras. As I recall, it sucked up a tremendous amount of battery power in just a few shots and you always had to carry a lot of extra batteries with you. It had a 38-115mm equivalent zoom lens and didn’t have an LCD screen.

Kodak also collaborated with companies such as Nikon to manufacture some of the first high-end digital cameras designed for professional use. Many of these cameras were hybrids between film camera bodies and digital components. Most were nearly twice as large as regular 35mm pro cameras and costed thousands of dollars, which put them out of the reach of average consumers. It meant that in the 1990’s, digital photography was still too expensive for the huge amateur market and film was still dominant.

This literally looked like someone took a Nikon film body and screwed on the Kodak digital components. It was 1.5 megabytes of pure digital power.

This was a curious time in Kodak’s life, because it was at the crossroads of two photographic technologies, film and digital. I suspect that it made for a number of fierce debates on their board, because on one hand they had their lucrative film products that was their mainstay for so long, and on the other, they had the newer digital technology to explore. I don’t know this for a fact, but suspect that there was an internal war where the digital group was a minority, and likely had to fight for every little bit of funding for their endeavors, and the film group was not convinced that the digital group deserved the funding it was requesting. At least this is what it looks like from the outside. I’d love it if someone were to do the research to learn how this inside conflict unfolded over the years up until just now, when Kodak had to declare Chapter 11 protection.

4th nail: Internal conflict of film vs digital technology

This is the murkiest part of Kodak’s downfall and is admittedly little more than pure speculation. It appears that there was an internal conflict going on with Kodak and they simply couldn’t agree on whether they were to be a film company or a digital company, so their decisions with both seem to have been compromised by each other, but who really knows? The board of directors knows, but I’m betting that none of them will ever admit as much. We only have clues to this assertion, and I’ll bring the Kodak DCS 14n forward as an example.

5th Nail: The abrupt shift to digital photography (oops)

Kodak was doing some very exciting things by the early 2000’s, including releasing a flurry of small point and shoot digital cameras that were very solid and just as good, if not better than their competitors.  All of a sudden, the market was flooded with tens, if not hundreds of digital cameras made by dozens of companies, including Nikon, Canon, Fuji, Minolta, Konica, Sony, Olympus, Panasonic, Leica, Agfa, Casio, Sigma, and so on. The digital revolution was in full swing and consumers could buy a digital camera for less than a few hundred dollars. The years between 2000 and 2003 were little more than a blur regarding digital cameras because the market was flooded with them nearly overnight. All of a sudden, consumers were buying more digital cameras than film cameras and companies like Kodak were caught totally unprepared for the abrupt change from film to digital photography. Nobody thought that it would happen in the course of just a couple years and companies were unprepared for the dramatic hits their film divisions would take as consumers stopped buying film and film cameras.

On the professional end of the market, both Nikon and Canon were releasing some very high quality digital single lens reflex cameras (DSLR’s) that were starting to eliminate the need for film among pros too. Canon broke a price barrier with their Canon EOS 300D, which made high quality DSLR’s available to pros and serious amateurs for less than $1,000.00 with a kit lens. The higher-end DSLR’s were still overly expensive with many near the $10,000.00 price range.

6th Nail: The Kodak DCS 14n (the elephant in the corner)

The Kodak DCS 14n caused quite the stir among pros, because for the fist time (you can’t count Contax because they never released their version) a sensor the size of a 35mm frame of film was released. This has come to be known as a “full frame sensor” because most of the DSLR sensors are smaller than this (it also meant that lens focal lengths were accurate measurements again and did not have a factor to measure as with smaller sensors). Canon was set to release their version of a full frame sensor too, but it costed $8,000.00, three thousand dollars more than this Kodak 14n.

Critics called it a medium format camera because it had the unprecedented size of 14 megapixels, more than twice the size of most DSLR’s. It was a huge leap and even now, nearly a decade later it is still considered a large image sensor.

The Kodak 14n became “a nail in their coffin” because Kodak did not allocate the proper amount of research and development resources to make it successful. There were many very negative deficiencies that held the 14n back from being successful. It had excessive noise even at moderately low ISO settings, which meant that the camera was only useful in bright sunlight or with studio lights. This frustrated pros because they wanted to believe in Kodak and their high-end 14n camera; everyone desperately wanted this camera to be a success, an answer to their digital challenges. By this time, photographers were already used to high quality results from DSLR’s and Kodak was expected to easily surpass the quality of the smaller megapixel DSLR cameras.

By early 2003 it became clear to nearly everyone that the 14n was a failure. It caused a sensationalist stir in the online photography community, because by now there were a number of review sites where users could publicly share their conclusions about the camera and users were very vocal about the 14n’s shortcomings. Rants were common from users, as were photographers coming to Kodak’s defense. Kodak eventually quietly abandoned the camera, never publicly conceding defeat with it.

The 14n could be viewed as a key pivotal point with Kodak, because they had the potential to take a decisive lead with this camera, and it could have been a flagship digital camera that set the standard for future cameras from all manufacturers. The view from professional photographers was that it appeared that Kodak was not willing to do what it took to make this camera a success. This saddened many, and exasperated the ones who invested in the 14n camera bodies and lenses. It irked them that Kodak would give up on this camera that held so much positive potential, and a rift was made between professional photographers and Kodak, and many of them turned their backs on Kodak for good.

Canon and Nikon have stepped up to take the lead with DSLR’s, and Kodak is obviously not even a player anymore. This is where so many photographers like myself are disappointed, because Kodak was so close to taking the lead a decade ago with this 14n camera. In my opinion, this entire scenario helped set a precedent for how Kodak was to approach their digital photography initiatives.

7th nail: Overproduction of digital cameras and the iPhone camera

Another element of the digital photography scenario (that Kodak obviously can’t control) is that there is a glut of digital cameras being mass produced by nearly everyone. There are literally hundreds of models being released every year, all striving to become the most recent bestseller. Many of the models are nearly identical to each other and after a certain point there appears to be a clear lack of real innovation. Sure, there are lots of very cool models being made, and I just got a new one about a year ago that I like a lot. It appears that a few companies are distinguishing themselves quite nicely with models that are ultra-compact, yet go into manual override easily so that you can have a very precise control over the look of your photographs. Some even have a certain “coolness factor” that also jumps into the fray, just to make things more interesting.

This sea of digital cameras nearly became moot when Apple released their iPhone with a digital camera a few years ago. It’s first incarnation was low resolution and couldn’t focus or adjust the brightness levels. It was a low quality camera, a joke to real photographers. However, what it did have was an easy method to share its photos, either via Wifi or over the mobile service. It was ridiculously easy to share photos and it coincided perfectly with the social networking sites like Facebook. For the first time, way more photos were being shared online than being printed. I hear that people on Facebook are sharing 4 million photos per day. This means that people are crazy about the iPhone and other cell phone cameras.

Apple makes some of the coolest computers on the planet, but I've never been all that excited about their iPhone camera. I notice it still doesn't have any lens protection, which means that it's photos will be soft in no time, due to a scratched up lens.

Hardly any of the camera manufacturers picked up on this Wifi trend, even as photographers asked for connectivity. Camera manufacturers ignored these requests for Wifi with digital cameras, and as a result, the digital camera bestseller is the one with this feature, the iPhone. I think that even today, most manufacturers still don’t get it. Kodak was a player in this scenario and could’ve come forth with a bestseller if they responded, but this is just my opinion.

At any rate, digital camera sales are still not nearly as high as they could be because of the widespread use of the iPhone. Apple has become a digital camera bestseller, even with their low quality camera, because they led the trend with digital connectivity and ease of use. Any photographer can tell you that the most popular camera is always going to be the one you can just pull out in a few seconds, and today that is the iPhone. My advice still stands for Kodak and all the other camera companies; if you want to have a bestseller, make it with built-in Wifi that is easier to use than the iPhone combined with a higher quality camera. Easy as pie, what are you waiting for?

Conclusion: Can Kodak make a comeback?

All of the above is what I meant by a “slow motion downfall,” because it appears to have been a downward cascade over a number of decades that slowly  eroded Kodak until it is at the place it is today. As a professional photographer, I still do not want to give up on Kodak, even as it seems more likely that it will be cannibalized into a number of smaller entities.

I think that the irony in all of this is that at least a part of Kodak realized that the digital revolution was coming and it was critical to take the lead with it. The sad part appears to be that the leadership didn’t heed the findings of their own research teams.

I’m not sure what to think about Kodak’s disappearance from photography, except that it is not good. As of this spring 2012 semester we and many other universities still have a film component to our photography curriculums. Next week I am evaluating the Kodak Tri-X film from our students and a part of me is wondering how much longer it will be around. A long time I hope.

Here’s to you Kodak, and like I mentioned in the first paragraph, Kodak essentially defined my profession and for that I will always be sincerely grateful.

KODAK LIVES!

Story and photos Copyright Larry McNeil 2012, All rights reserved.

Things were way too stuffy for the young West Coast California photographers; they needed fresh air, wide-open spaces, cars, the Pacific Ocean, the desert, a dash of eroticism (except for Ansel), dramatic light, and most of all, freedom from the stifling East Coast crowd and their mind-numbing Pictorialist dregs. The date was November 15, 1932, exactly 79 years ago today. It marked the date that the f/64 photographers had their coming out exhibition at the de Young Museum in San Francisco.

Come to think of it, these West Coast photographers didn’t really care for much of anything that remotely smacked of the East Coast (well, except for maybe killer bagels and lox), and even named their Oakland gallery the “683,” mocking the Alfred Stieglitz New York “291″ gallery. Mocking is good, I like that. Sometimes all you’ve got left is spunk and a nearly empty box of film. These new photographers couldn’t stand the pretentiousness of the cramped New York scene and were brazen about it. Danged if they were going to let a bunch of haughty East Coasters define them, and after naming themselves “Group F/64,” they even came up with a manifesto. How’s that for audaciousness?

Imogen Cunningham, Plant Pattern, 1920's

I absolutely love this photograph by Imogen; it reminds me of a ferocious great white shark being hunted down by Killer Whales from my ancient homeland in Alaska. The paper with the mottled light has echoes of mountainous waves and the black values at the top echoes the drama of a night sky, which is a perfect metaphor for trying to survive in the worst depression America has ever witnessed. It feels ominous and predatory without being didactic, and the coolest part is simply naming it something as innocuous as “Plant Pattern.” Brilliant, simply brilliant. Especially when you realize that it was the 1920’s and other artists were pretending to make work with relevance as Imogen was quietly making a portfolio of photograhic prints that had this visual aesthetic; she was a master of light in addition to the artistry of her compositions. I can only imagine her figuring out the light for this photograph, because like many of her other works, the negative spaces and shadows were just as pivotal as the highlights and mid-tones. Her carefully crafted rim of highlights served to add weight to the negative spaces. This is where blacks were so important, and I’m sure she spent many hours in the darkroom emphasizing this look, it wasn’t accidental by any means. Imogen knows blacks.

Not only that, but Imogen studied chemistry in Dresden Germany and her key research had to do with improving the platinum printing process. Printing with a platinum handmade emulsion is part chemistry, part alchemy and in my opinion, part mojo. There is something extremely challenging about working in that media because so many things can go unexpectedly wrong, but when you get it on target, you end up with the most beautiful photographs with a tonality and range of values that today’s digital photographers can only dream of attaining.

Edward Weston, Imogen Cunningham and Ansel Adams were the most well known of the original seven members. They were fierce about breaking out of the painterly, soft-focus romanticized Pictorialist style and presented their own visual aesthetic that was a reflection of the new modernist times.

Pepper Number 30, Edward Weston, 1930

Unfortunately, the modernist times also included the Great Depression, which was in full swing, with poverty and unemployment the norm for most of the country. This was an essential part of what informed the mindset for this f/64 group, that the average person would have to fight for social justice in the land. It’s part of what fueled the radical “Manifesto” part of their identity; it was both rebellious and assertive about hammering out a new paradigm for themselves.

Floating Nude, Edward Weston, 1939. Weston was starting to experiment with spacial values that were nearly surreal, but also wanted to hold onto the realism that Group f/64 developed.

They wanted a style that epitomized what big cameras and high quality lenses were capable of making; they wanted to stretch the capabilities of what photography could offer, including a look that had the entire photograph impeccably sharp from corner to corner with a tonal range that pulled as much out of their film as it could offer, which meant rich blacks, a full range of mid-tones and detail in the highlights.

Aspens, Northern New Mexico, Ansel Adams

In order to capture this new modernist look, they needed lenses that could stop down to f/64 in order to maximize sharpness, especially if camera movements were involved that minimized distortions, hence their name. They also needed to shoot with view cameras, generally either 4×5 or 8×10 if they could afford the larger more expensive film. Part of their photographic workflow included using the large camera that took a great deal of patience and meticulous handling in order to make the careful and studied compositions. They needed the large cameras because the larger film translated to less enlarger magnification, which in turn meant dramatically finer grained prints or almost eliminating film grain altogether.

Dunes, Oceano, Weston 1936

Agave, Imogen Cunningham, 1920's

Van Deren Coke, who used to be the Curator of Photography at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and then later a scholar at the University of New Mexico, described Cunningham’s photographs as “Her inherently sensuous subjects- large graceful flowers, elegant tapered leaves and rounded cacti- were transformed into formal compositions by her emphasis on close-up views, geometric detail and the tendency of shadows to appear as opaque silhouettes in photographs. Cunningham speaks to the beauty of pure geometry in nature… (From “Photography: A Facet of Modernism” P.36).

Van Deren Coke is one of my heroes because he helped establish the Photography Area at the University of New Mexico where I earned my Master of Fine Arts degree and also earned a Van Deren Coke Fellowship as a graduate student.

So how does this Group f/64 body of work stand the test of time 79 years later? Especially as we slip and slide around in the Postmodern zone, where anything goes? I’d say that Group f/64 set a nice standard for photographers and artists who want to break out of outdated conventions, aesthetics and ideas about the creative process. They made it just fine for photographers to let go of the old ways of thinking, especially in troubling times as we are in again with a large scale socio-economic depression of our own. I’m reminded that perhaps it is time for another manifesto that signifies a shift in the social strata of the land, and have it reflected in a new paradigm of art making.

All I really know is that as a photographer, I have an appreciation and gratitude for the beauty of the f/64 work. There came a time back in the late 1990’s where I needed to use a 4×5 camera in a studio with lights and everything. I couldn’t get the look I was looking for with scanned negatives, so I shot on 4×5 Polaroid film and made platinum prints from them because it had a wider tonal range, so I could squeeze out a few additional tones of black. It did the trick, so it was cool that I was able to pull this modernist stuff out of the hat like it was a magic rabbit or something.

Raven asks Pontiac, McNeil, 1998. Made with Polaroid type 55 negative film and a handmade platinum emulsion. I'll have to confess that I was looking for a modernist look with the hood ornament, because I really love that Group f/64 feel, especially when combined with the 19th century platinum printing process. It was a total hybrid.

Ordinarily, the story would end here, but since I’m an artist and photographer first, I thought I’d share what I’m doing with some of these f/64 modernist tools in 2011. I take that back, my Schneider lens only goes to f/45, but that’s plenty good enough for my plan. I just purchased a heck of a camera on eBay, a very cool Wista 4×5 rangefinder field camera. What’s cool about it is that it uses the large format film, but you can use a rangefinder for focusing, which makes it way faster for photographing people. I guess that means I’m not really an f/64 purist, but that’s okay I guess. I’m not the least bit worried about it,but am very excited at the idea of using a 4×5 camera again, because it has that beautiful f/64 look that digital cameras can’t quite squeeze out yet.

Wista RF 4x5 field camera for my next project.

But wait, you haven’t heard it all yet– I have ten boxes of Polaroid Type 55 negative film to use with this. Wow. For you photographic peasants who don’t know what this means, too dang bad, I’ll show the photos in a future entry. But for now, happy 79th year of having the f/64 photographers splash on the scene. Here’s to all of you, bottom’s up, man.

Story by Larry McNeil, Copyright 2011, All Rights Reserved.

(Edited from the March 9th entry)

What do this mystery photographer, Ansel Adams, Felix Bonfils and myself have in common?

Can you help me identify any of these people from Alaska in the 1960’s? These negatives were in a box of items I purchased at an auction in the early 1980’s, I did not make any of these photos.

I’m fairly certain that this photographer was a serious amateur as opposed to a professional photographer. It appeared that this was an estate auction of pre- 1960’s photographic gear. Included with the old and dusty photographic gear were a couple boxes of cool negatives, one of which turned out to be quite fascinating.

Most were large format 4×5 black & white negatives of various Alaska scenes, like the Fur Rendezvous celebration from the mid-1960’s. There is a fairly large collection of negatives from the 1964 Good Friday Earthquake of downtown Anchorage. The 1964 Earthquake negatives in particular are historic and high quality. These negatives are not as good as the Steve McCutcheon earthquake photographs, but are an interesting supplement to them.

There are some intriguing negatives made at an Ansel Adams workshop too, which tells me that in addition to maybe shooting a few assignments, this photographer was enthusiastic about photography for it’s own sake. There are what I would describe as meditative nature scenes of Yosemite.

Jackpot → Prize → Laurels → Laurence → Larry

It’s a bit amusing, but the Latin translation of laurel means from the laurel tree, or to be crowned with laurels, as victors. One could say that finding these negatives was kind of a jackpot, prize or a “Larry” kind of thing. Latin trivia for the day.

At any rate, the really cool box of negatives were nearly 9 inch x 11 inch glass plate negatives from what appeared to be Palestine of the late 1800’s. What the heck? How did these get in here? You can see the name “Felix Bonfils” handwritten in what appears to be French script in gold on the emulsion side of the negatives. Did this mystery photographer get the negatives in his travels to California in some obscure camera store? I’d like to identify the photographer so I could get some clue as to how he acquired the Felix Bonfils negatives.

Link to the Portfolio of Bonfils Negatives.

Link to Essay about the Bonfils Negatives.

Felix Bonfils negative of the "Ruins of Capernaum." There is an original signature on the negative, it's not placed there photographically like all the prints you see in the various collections in the world.

The name Capernaum is Hebrew for “Village of Nahum,” and is the name of an ancient village on the Northwest shore of the Sea of Galilee. It was deserted around the seventh century BCE (Before the Common Era). Capernaum is of interest because it is where Jesus performed his ministries around Galilee. A fourth century synagogue has been excavated there, among other historical sites. There is a great deal of scholarship from various people and entities regarding Capernaum.

These ten Felix Bonfils negatives are the only ones in existence as far as I know. The other more contemporary negatives look like the ones below.

Whomever made these negatives also attended at least one Ansel Adams workshop in California in the 60's. This mystery participant made some very nice negatives while interacting with Ansel Adams and other photographers. This is a very high quality 4x5 black & white negative.

Are any of these guys the mystery Alaskan photographer?

This appears to be the Mendenhall Glacier just outside of Juneau. Again, a 4x5 black & white negative was made. It looks like a Graflex type film holder was used that shot multiple numbered negatives.

This is from the Anchorage Fur Rendezvous from at least 1965 (according to the banner over the street). Check out the old-style television camera on top of the truck on the right. The dog sled races. This appears to be a negative from a professional type of Polaroid camera, maybe the Pathfinder 110. The writing on the left side of the emulsion says "Kodak Safety film," but Kodak made some of the negative materials for various instant Polaroid films. Look! There's Stewart's Photo on the left.

I used to spend a lot of hard-earned money at Stewart’s Photo when I was in high school in the early 70’s and they’d even rent out their darkroom to me when I couldn’t use the school darkrooms in the summer. Let’s hear it for the good guys at Stewart’s! I hear they retired a number of years ago.

This weird little thing is called an Amphicar and its an amphibious car that goes either on the highway or on waterways. This is Seward, Alaska, likely during the Silver Salmon Derby in August of each year. I suspect that this is the late 1960's.

Who are these two happy dudes with beautiful silver salmon? I'm sure our mystery photographer made this photograph in Seward, Alaska, perhaps during the Silver Salmon Derby. The kid on the right was likely my age, which would put him in his 50's today.

Around 1968 I remember seeing this little Amphicar in the middle of Resurrection Bay outside of Seward during the Silver Salmon derby in August. It had to be one of  the most surreal scenes I’d witnessed in quite some time because it looked just like a little car cruising around the middle of the bay. The two guys were trolling for silvers, bobbing along peacefully in the three foot waves.

Who are these guys? This 4×5 negative was amongst all the others. Please email me if you have any clues as to the identity of any of these people. Here’s to all you Alaskan photographers!

Story Copyright Larry McNeil, All Rights Reserved, 2011

The Felix Bonfils Glass Plate Negatives from the Larry McNeil Collection

Happy Birthday Felix! You turned 180 today (March 8th). I have connected with you through the decades and have learned so much about photography from you via your beautiful negatives. How your negatives got to Alaska from The Holy Land is a complete mystery, perhaps a bit like all the people through the ages who have made journeys to and from there. I cannot help thinking of the auspiciousness of them coming into my possession from half way around the world, this batch of nearly perfect negatives from the late 1800’s. Especially with a few tantalizing clues strewn along the way; it is a true mystery.

I’m going to go find the most decadent slice of cake today and raise a toast to you Felix. You’d smile at the idea of your negatives living on when your 180th rolled around. Perhaps a visit to French bakery is in order? Bonjour Monsieur Bonfils, aimeriez-vous quelque gâteau ?

This is an essay, not an abbreviated blog entry, and offers an insight into the history of photography that I think may break a bit of new ground. I am hopeful that colleagues and photographers will be able enjoy the insights into various photographic nuances, as well as questions of how 19th century culture influenced the photographic meaning in his photography.

______________________________________

The Mystery of the Felix Bonfils Glass Plate Negatives

The Negative in the History of Photography

Felix Bonfils Negative Number One. Size: 22.8 x 28 Centimeters, or 9 x 11 inches. A negative with all of the precise technical characteristics seems to have a magical glow to it, as do these Bonfils negatives.

Link to Bonfils Portfolio of Ten Glass Plate Negatives

Introduction

This is an historical accounting of the Felix Bonfils negatives that also involves pivotal moments the history of photography. There may be some new research on Felix Bonfils unearthed here. It involves pointed questions as to what was going on from a cultural perspective, specifically with the notion of “Ethnographic Photography,” in addition to the more objective information, so there are scholarly questions for further reseach mixed into the various presented scenarios. In the end, hopefully it unfolds an element of humanity about Bonfils that is sometimes absent from other research and it becomes even more evident that he was a brilliant photographer, regardless of when he lived.

I would put forth the notion that being able to study these Bonfils negatives offered a rarefied opportunity to gain insight that could not have been obtained any other way. Conservators were able to gather objective, scientifically sound information, which answered key questions, but also led the way to more questions for further research. I think that my status as a Professor of Photography brings a unique element to the research too, because I am able to ask questions that perhaps other photography historians overlooked. Such as, “What do specific photographic techniques such as negative contrast have to do with the visual aesthetics of Bonfils’ photography?” This is discussed near the end of the essay.

The story of the mystery of these Felix Bonfils negatives is also about a key transformational moment in the history of photography with what Bonfils was doing at that time. Who is the mystery person that Felix Bonfils, Ansel Adams and I have in common? Who would have guessed that I’d have ended up with the only original Felix Bonfils negatives in existence today? As far as other scholars and I know, anyway; if you know of any others, please let me know.

Felix Bonfils, Part One

Fist and foremost, I am writing this from the point of view of a fellow photographer who has a sincere appreciation and admiration for Bonfils’ high level of expertise and tenacity for sticking with photography and helping it to evolve in a unique era. Bonfils was a photographer when it was slow, meticulous work to make just one negative, let alone thousands of them, including the albumen prints that made his livelihood possible.

Bonfils had to have a fairly sizable darkroom production facility, especially for the thousands of albumen prints that were made by his studio over the years. Making albumen prints was technically easier than making the collodion wet plate negatives, but the sheer volume likely necessitated a staff of lab assistants who were very knowledgeable with the process and could do the production work efficiently. I’m not going to describe the albumen process here, but can direct you to another website that is able to quantify it exceptionally well.

Albumen Conservation Site

I would challenge any professional photographer today to try and make a wet plate collodion negative. It is an exceptionally sophisticated process that involved handling delicate materials in a complex manner. If any one step along the way had the minutest part of the formula wrong, the negative would not work. Not only that, but it would be challenging to make one in a controlled laboratory environment, let alone in the back of a dusty, hot wagon in the middle of a desert.

The Getty has an excellent online video that describe the Collodion Wet Plate process

Getty Link

Bonfils was a Frenchman who moved to the Middle East with his family in the 19th Century to set up a photography studio. He was a very prolific photographer who specialized in exotic views of the Middle East. He made thousands of photographs at places like Egypt, Lebanon and Israel (Palestine or ‘The Holy Land’). There was a fascination for capturing photographs of the region, because many of the places still looked remarkably like they did a thousand years in the past. Time seems to have stood still. Immediately following this period, the region started to change, especially at the start of the 20th Century. Bonfils and other photographers of the era knew that they had a unique opportunity to capture the look of the Middle East just before it changed forever.

… The driving force with this major transformation happened with the humble negative…

Bonfils was a European colonialist photographer who brought Western ideals and philosophies to his work. He had preconceived notions of how what is now Israel was defined, and he sought out to fulfill those notions with the visual aesthetics in his photography. It is notable that these Bonfils negatives were made in what is currently one of the most controversial and contentious places on Earth with what is unfolding between Israel and the surrounding Arab countries.

Many of his contemporaries were looking for what defined “The Holy Land,” and it strongly appears that Bonfils went out of his way to make visual representations of places mentioned in the bible. His passion appeared to be more with place than people; the vast majority of his existing photographic archive of the Holy Land consists primarily of ancient villages, ruins, buildings, countrysides, orchards, churches, historical places and people in what appears to be traditional dress doing mundane everyday activities like herding cattle or grinding grain.

The Bonfils studio also made a significant part of their livelihood as a portrait studio in Lebanon, so it was clear that he and his staff (or family) were also very proficient at photographing people. Bonfils was especially gifted with photographing architectural scenes; as a past architectural photographer myself, I can recognize instances where he used camera movements in order to correct perspectives that would have otherwise been skewed with characteristics such as converging lines in buildings from looking slightly up at them. It was obvious that he used perspective controls on his large format camera to correct minor distortions.

Larry's 4x5 camera. The back of the camera is called the "Rear Standard."

The above camera is my contemporary 4×5 field camera. I would bet that Bonfils’ larger camera looked similar to this one. The back of the camera that I’m handling is called the rear standard. It is the part of the camera that controls perspective. If you want to minimize distortion, you just angle the rear standard parallel to your subject. It has a hinged bottom so you can adjust it to your subject; this is called a ’tilt’ control and is likely what Bonfils used to get such distortion free photographs whenever he photographed buildings and other linear structures to make them look correct.

The only way to prove this would be to revisit the specific locations and use the same sized lens to negative ratio and duplicate the scene with a large format bellows camera. This would be an exciting way to evaluate his skills as a professional photographer; I am certain that the results would be enlightening and would clearly indicate his high level of expertise with his camera controls.

19th Century Collodion Wet Plate Camera

Photgraphica Site

The above camera appears to be a field camera as opposed to a studio version. The studio cameras were nearly twice this size and generally sturdier, in order to minimize camera shake. Field cameras needed to be as lightweight as possible because photographers still had a lot of gear to carry in order to make their photographs.

It was clear that as a professional photographer, commerce drove his decisions about his subject matter and his family relied on his photographic expertise in order to make a living. This is likely why Bonfils was so prolific; in order have a sustainable livelihood, he likely had to have a diverse and broad archive of photographs to market.

He used various camera formats, including the size from this collection of negatives. Stereoscopes were a cultural phenomenon of this era and sold well, as did the smaller postcards. Other items included the sale of entire albums of large albumen prints. These are still common at places such as eBay, where one often sees albums taken apart and sold as individual prints.

Bonfils likely used a stereo camera very similar to this version. In the late 19th century It was a common pastime to look at stereoviews from around the world.

The Bonfils legacy also involves key elements in the history of photography, from his unusually large collection of photographs made primarily in the late 1800’s to how he is recognized as one of the significant photographers who worked in the Middle East in the late 1800’s. Bonfils did his photography at a time when it was rapidly changing from being extremely difficult to make a negative to a time when photography became dramatically easier, and opened up to amateur use. The driving force with this major transformation happened with the humble negative. It was the negative that revolutionized and changed photography so that it became more universal and democratic; a social equality with the use of photography came forth, and along the way, the snapshot was born. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

The Anchorage Auction, Part Two

Fast-forward to the early 1980’s in Anchorage, Alaska, where I was at an auction where a retired or deceased photographer was getting his estate auctioned off (I don’t remember whom it was, and if anyone knows, please let me know; he may have been associated with a photo store in Anchorage).

There was a multitude of boxes of photographic paraphernalia, most of it old, dusty and utterly useless. I was disappointed because it appeared that the family was not auctioning off any of the good stuff. There was not a Leica, Nikon or any other good camera gear to be found anywhere. “Dang,” I muttered to myself as I briskly went through box after box, hoping that I’d find something worth bidding on. After seeing enough junk, I dusted myself off and looked through one last shabby looking box. At the bottom, I found a box of glass plate negatives and a couple boxes of old 4×5 negatives.

The auctioneer jolted my attention to the podium with a loud announcement. “Five more minutes,” he bellowed through his microphone. I held one of the large negatives up to the fluorescent lights and was immediately taken by their ethereal beauty. Excellent negatives seem to glow when made to perfection, as these obviously were. All I could muster was “Wow,” saying it out loud to nobody in particular. After quickly scanning a number of them they were put carefully back the way they were found.

After seeing the large glass negatives, I went over some of the smaller 4×5 plastic negatives. Ansel Adams was clearly recognizable as he stood in a forest talking to a group of what looked like workshop attendees. There were a few negatives that looked like they were made at an Ansel Adams workshop. I only had minutes before the start, so I sped up a bit. The remainder of the negatives appeared to be Alaska scenes from the early 1960’s, including the 1964 earthquake and aerial views of Juneau, my hometown. I quickly put everything back as found, and hurried to get a seat.

The auctioneer was selling boxes at a fast pace and things were going cheaply, from five to twenty dollars apiece as I recall. When the box of negatives came up, the auctioneer was clearly weary of selling box after box of what were obviously photographic remnants of long-dead equipment; mostly parts of outdated gear no longer useful to anyone. He asked what anyone would offer for the box and I yelled out “Twenty dollars!” “Do I hear any other offers? Going once, twice… SOLD.” And just like that, I was the owner of some very sophisticated and cool negatives.

New Research with Bonfils Negatives, Part Three

In 1998 I was a student at the University of New Mexico (UNM) in Albuquerque, nearly finished with my Master of Fine Arts program in Photography. Our then current Curator of Prints and Photographs at the UNM Museum, Kathleen S. Howe, Ph.D. was a scholar of Middle Eastern photographers from the 19th Century, so I asked her if I could take a Graduate Tutorial with her. Dr. Howe responded by requesting that I write a formal proposal regarding the research, and she was just as intrigued as I was about the Bonfils negatives. She had recently published a text titled Revealing the Holy Land, The Photographic Exploration of Palestine, published by the University of California Press.

Many of the photographs from the text are from the collection of Michael G. Wilson.

This was a fitting Bonfils research plan, because it gave me the opportunity to interact with a scholar whom was very knowledgeable with the nuances of photography in the Middle East in the 19th Century. Dr. Howe was invaluable with pointing me the right direction with my research into the Bonfils negatives. The first thing she wanted me to do was meet with a museum conservator whose expertise was in 19th Century negatives.

The conservator’s experience allowed her to make some startling discoveries with the negatives. While delicately examining the negatives on a light table with a powerful magnifying glass, she was able to easily identify the wet plate collodion negatives that were hand-coated by the photographer, in addition to the first commercially available negatives that were coated at a factory. This transition between the two marked the time when photographers could do what we other photographers have taken for granted for decades: to simply buy film.

The conservator mentioned that the collodion wet plate negatives were higher quality than the manufactured negatives. This made sense, because the first manufactured film plates were still being perfected and photographers gave the manufacturers critical feedback about what they could do to improve the manufacturing process to make better film. The new manufactured glass plates were nearly instantly popular with photographers though, because for the first time it released photographers from being required to carry a portable darkroom and hundreds of pounds of supplies with them.

I can imagine Bonfils going from having to use a large wagon full of photographic supplies and a fairly sophisticated darkroom pulled by horses, to just a couple medium sized bags and a tripod. This would have been a life-changing event for photographers, even more radical than going from film to digital media.

… These negatives are historic because they represent a groundbreaking technical transition in photography…

Bonfils must have felt a tremendous sense of freedom with the new glass plate silver gelatin negatives, and it also must have affected the look of his photographs, because for the first time, photographers could be way more spontaneous than before. They didn’t have to go through the laborious and very time-consuming process of making wet plate collodion negatives just prior to making their photographs. Hand making the wet plates must have been incredibly difficult, especially in a hot, dry and dusty desert environment.

It is an historical fact that the sensitivity of the manufactured silver gelatin glass negatives became up to ten times more sensitive to light than the former wet collodion negatives, and photographers were able to do things like use faster shutter speeds and a deeper depth of field with their aperture settings (make the aperture opening smaller for a sharper image). It also likely meant that they would be able to capture detail in sky areas, whereas with collodion negatives, skies were rendered as a dull, dense area because they were overly sensitive to the blue part of the spectrum, which equated to plain white skies when making prints from those negatives.

The blank white skies were a major reason why photographers started manipulating their negatives as a common practice. Their clients preferred a more realistic photographic view, which ironically meant that photographers would have to place the clouds there artificially, via negative manipulations. One of these Bonfils negatives shows where the photographer carefully painted out the sky so as to make a dense area of the negative. It was a work-in progress and was never finished, but we can surmise that he was preparing the negative to leave an unexposed area on the print, in which a sky may be printed in later. This is only speculation, but seems the most likely reason for the careful masking job.

One can clearly see where someone wrote directly on the emulsion (back) side of the negatives. It is written backwards in gold script, and in this instance, has the easily recognizable name "Bonfils." It is written backwards because the ink is only stable on the emulsion side, and if it were written on the front, it would've simply rubbed off.

Many museums and especially galleries have no interest in negatives, even from well-known photographers. I would put forth the argument that collectors should be interested in original negatives, especially since these negatives represent one of the few instances where an actual signature in ink is present in any Bonfils photographic materials. The thousands of prints in collections around the world lack authentic signatures. The signatures in their prints are not written in ink, they’re reproduced via the photographic process and lack the authenticity that these negatives represent.

Use of the newer manufactured negatives likely translated to dramatically less retouching requirements, which also likely made the processes from exposure, to negative and print processing faster and dramatically less laborious. For the first time, this also opened the door to the amateur photography market, because they could simply buy the negative plates instead of being required to use a highly technical process to make sensitized collodion negative plates. This was just a few years before silver gelatin roll film was released, which also revolutionized photography as being easily accessible to amateurs.

It also appeared that Bonfils started to learn how to compensate for the manufactured negatives’ shortcomings and started making higher quality negatives from them. It wasn’t clear how he did this; a closer study of the negatives is likely required to answer some of these questions. Perhaps a scientist could measure the residual silver halide (rendered from silver nitrate) in the various plates to answer this. It is common knowledge that the more silver halide contained in either film or sensitized paper, the richer the tonal values that one is able to capture.

The above also made me curious as to how photographers from the late 1800’s made such precise exposures with their negatives. For an example, even today with precise digital light meters with an exposure latitude of less than one third of an aperture setting, it is still difficult to get a proper density with a negative if the scene has what is called low contrast lighting. This is because even with a proper negative exposure, one still has to compensate with negative development in order to boost the contrast in order to get an acceptable tonal range for the negative. In layman’s terms, it simply means that in order to get a good negative, exposure and development represents a two-step process for making a good negative.

It means that Bonfils had a precise formula for the inherent shortcomings with capturing various types of lighting situations, which in turn means that he was more versatile than the average photographer and did not have to rely only on the brightness of the sun in order to make great negatives. Bonfils had the unique ability to make photographs at different times of the day when the lighting was more challenging to capture, an ability that only the best photographers of the day could perform.

What I found to be phenomenal was that the negative of the two women grinding grain (negative number eight) was contrasty when it was photographed in low light. The negative should have been overly grey, but had a full range of tones with a proper contrast in order to make a high quality albumen print. This one negative told me that Bonfils was indeed a photographic master with both his technique and visual aesthetic.

In addition to his commissioned portraits, he also made what could be characterized as “Ethnographic Portraiture.” The people appeared to be in their indigenous garments on location where they lived, although both inferences could be incorrect. Bonfils could have posed them in costumes of his choice in a location that has nothing to do with where they usually interact, we don’t know these details. These two women are lost in time with no names or identification as to what their real cultural identity was or what the place they are photographed in has to do with them. Are they Palestinian farmers processing their grain in the same manner of their ancestors? It very well could be an authentic scene with real people practicing their livelihoods as they have for thousands of years.

Other scholars have written references that argued in favor of the authenticity of his ethnographic portraits. The main argument against it would likely come from anthropologists trained in ethnography, because formal practices must be followed in order for the research to be accepted as genuine.

Two women grinding grain, Negative #8 by Felix Bonfils.

Print from Negative #8. You can see the marks made from the negative printing frame on the top left and top left and right.

Many of the Bonfils original albumen photographs are readily available at various auction houses, galleries and even eBay. I have been purchasing various Bonfils prints on eBay for almost ten years. I have been searching for prints that match my negatives, but have not been successful yet, although there are many that are very similar. Here is an example of what eBay has for sale on a regular basis. The similarities are the grinding implements, women doing the work and clothing. They are different women and the background scene is different, but the layout of their task looks nearly identical.

Bonfils vintage albumen photograph on eBay recently.

The same vintage albumen Bonfils photograph at "Visions Gallery," but in better condition.

Vision Gallery, Neil Folberg link to page of vintage 19th century photographs.

Another example of an ethnographic portrait is from negative number one. It is a scene of a woman and a baby riding a donkey (mule?), being led by a man through what appears to be a rural orchard, going away from the village in the background. Is this supposed to be a visual narrative of the Christian story of Mary and baby Jesus being led by Joseph? If it is, than it offers an argument that it is less an ethnographical portrait and more a theatrical scene made solely for commercial purposes. It could also be a genuine photograph of people as Bonfils found them, carefully posed to look like a small slice of life unfolding in Palestine. Can anyone offer any clues as to the ethnicity of the people? Their clothing looks very specific and perhaps is unique to the area. I would be very interested in hearing from other scholars who may have information about the people, culture and place within the negative.

Detail from Bonfils Negative #1. Like all the other negatives, it is highly detailed with very nuanced information. The negatives were designed to be contact printed and are virtually grain free.

My earlier research culminated in a short paper written for the project and a set of experiments with making prints from the Bonfils negatives. I fully acknowledged that my own research was from the point of view of a very experienced photographer and not a conservator, and the paper was slanted as such.

The sheer brilliance of the above Bonfils negative inspired me to try making prints from them. Prior to proceeding, it appeared to me that the negative emulsion on most of the negatives appeared to be very durable and worth the attempt. If these negatives belonged to a museum, I’m sure this would never have been allowed, due to their age. Bonfils himself carried the day though, and I prepared my UNM graduate darkroom for making prints from his negatives.

Earlier Research with the Bonfils Negatives in the Darkroom/ Part Three Continued

My UNM graduate darkroom was comfortable, spacious and well equipped for this Bonfils journey of darkroom discovery. It had both a high-end enlarger for printing contemporary silver halide materials, and I also brought in my own specialized equipment and supplies for printing 19^th century processes. This included items such as an oversized contact printing frame for large format negatives, an ultraviolet exposure unit for the hand-coated palladium or platinum emulsions, a large array of chemicals for the print emulsion, and other miscellaneous supplies.

I attempted to make prints from the negatives as a part of my research, first with silver halide prints from regular darkroom paper. I quickly discovered that the negatives had more contrast than what could be termed a normal negative with an average tonal range. I had to use contrast control filters to minimize the contrast for the prints. This told me that the negatives were optimized with both exposure and development for a print process that required more contrast than normal.

After that I tried making palladium prints, and they rendered prints with a very good tonal range, way better than the modern manufactured paper. There was detail in the highlight, mid-tone and shadow areas of the print, all hallmarks of an acceptable photograph made from a well made negative. The challenge with any photographic printing process is to pull as much information out of the negative as possible. I used an ultraviolet exposure unit and chemicals purchased from Richard Bostick, an expert in alternative photographic processes. About five years earlier, I took a platinum and palladium print making workshop from David Michael Kennedy where I learned the nuances of using these materials. Kennedy is a contemporary master of both palladium and platinum printing, and a great photographer.

In order to learn additional specific information about the Bonfils negatives, it was my opinion that someone should actually apply a 19th Century photographic process to the negatives. I suspected that the negatives were optimized for making albumen prints that rendered a proper tonal range. The vast majority of the existing prints made by the Bonfils studio are indeed albumen prints contact printed from negatives the precise size of these negatives.

The Mystery Photographer: Where did he get the Bonfils negatives? / Part Four

The mystery of how these 19th Century negatives came to be in possession of the deceased Alaskan photographer remains an unanswered question. How long did he have them and where did he get them? Some clues are the professional negatives that accompanied these ones. The black & white 4×5 negatives were clearly for various assignments, from the Juneau aerials to the 1964 earthquake scenes of destruction.

There were beautiful 4×5 black & white negatives made at the Ansel Adams workshop that appeared to be from either the 1950’s or ’60’s at Yosemite; this told me that the mystery photographer left Alaska (at least for brief spans) and was interacting with not only Ansel Adams, but also a group of other photographers. Did this mystery photographer meet Ansel Adams when Adams made his first trip to Alaska in 1947?

... the Bonfils Negatives assert the essence of what defines great photography…

Did our mystery photographer meet someone from the Middle East along the way? Or did he find the negatives on his travels in some obscure store, or perhaps at a flea market at places such as Carmel or San Francisco? Maybe he even bought the negatives from a garage sale in Anchorage from someone who previously lived in Palestine. Anchorage was a crossroads for people working in Saudi Arabia because of the budding oil industry. Oilfield workers and engineers were common in the Kenai Peninsula just down the road from Anchorage in the early 1960’s.

Conclusion, Part Five

I still think that it is very ironic that I ended up with these beautiful negatives. They have been inspiring to have for these nearly 30 years, and I have learned much about photography from them. It is interesting that these negatives are from the precise time when film was first made available for purchase, immediately following the time when photographers had to make their own negative materials.

These negatives are historic because they represent a groundbreaking technical transition in photography, and we can physically see that transition happening right before our eyes with these negatives. This still amazes me. Contrast that with today, when film is becoming obsolete in the age of digital photography. It is the other end of the above technical transition that marks the near-end of the use of negatives (as opposed to the beginning).

If I had my choice, I’d retrace the places that were photographed in these negatives and offer a contemporary view of them, photographing the same places as they look today. This would be an excellent project, just in case any of you know of any organizations willing to fund such a heroic endeavor.

In my opinion, the Bonfils negatives assert the essence of what defines great photography; namely making photographs full of life and meaning, coupled with a technical virtuosity that also honors what photography is all about. Here’s to you Felix. I love your negatives.

Felix Bonfils Links:

Harvard Semitic Museum

Courtauld Institute of Art

Library of Congress Bonfils Collection

Legacy of Light; Rockett Essay

J. Paul Getty Museum “In Search of Biblical Lands: From Jerusalem to Jordan in Nineteenth Century Photography”

Story Copyright Larry McNeil, All Rights Reserved, 201o

Happy Birthday, Arnold! You would’ve been 93 today, and your warm spirit touched so many people’s lives, including my own.

The great Arnold Newman (photo from the Arnold Newman Archive)

For those of you who didn’t have the privilege of meeting or knowing about Arnold Newman, he was none other than one of the best portrait photographers of the 20th century. Arnold loved the humility that people shared, especially when times were tough and the underdog prevailed. In addition to being a humanitarian with real class, Arnold was a dazzling, yet low-key teacher.

Many of his portraits are timeless and iconic, including this 1946 portrait of Stravinsky. This is one of my all-time favorite photographs. The magazine that commissioned the portrait didn't like it and didn't use it. Can you even imagine the boneheads who couldn't see the masterpiece as it bonked them over their thick skulls? Let this be a lesson to all you artists who get their work rejected on a regular basis; believe in yourself and keep on producing, no matter what.

“We do not take pictures with our cameras, but with our hearts and minds.” –Arnold Newman

Even his early work had his trademark sense of bold, yet elegant and understated composition.

I met Arnold Newman in 1987, when as a young man, I took a photography workshop with him at the Maine Photographic Workshops. It was when I was just starting to find my own way with photography and was trying to figure things out, looking for answers. Even though it was only a week with him with a small group of photographers, I discovered some very important things about myself and came to some self-realizations about some latent strengths that I didn’t even realize I possessed.

Spending a week with Newman was phenomenal. The workshops were all about being able to spend time making new work, interacting with like-minded photographers, and getting critical feedback from a master. The number one characteristic that I learned about myself at the workshop was that I had the latent ability to give my fellow students insightful and inspiring feedback about their own work.  All of this seemed to unfold by itself at Newman’s workshop, as if I were a witness on the sidelines, and I was just as taken aback as everyone else with my abilities. It’s where I learned that it takes a special kind of person to teach photography and I also had one of the best right in front of me.

At any rate, it was a humbling experience and was one of my best weeks ever as a photographer. For the first time, I blossomed as someone who could help other photographers with their work, and  have Newman to thank for helping me find my gifts. Thank you Mr. Newman, and here’s to you.

Newman had a nice surprise for us on the last day of the workshop. He wanted to make a group photograph of all of us, including his assistants who were right next to him, arm in arm. That's me on the far left wearing a Curious George watch with my spiffy new Canon F-1N that I got especially for this workshop. Arnold gave each one of us a signed print of this negative he made. I like his camera dark cloth around his shoulders from his 4x5 camera; it gave him the air of wearing venerated photographic robes. Made with Polaroid Type 55 negative film, 1987.

Newman's book "Five Decades" is still one of my favorites.

It strikes me that when it comes to photography and life, we never reach where we want to be by ourselves. It got me to thinking about photographic lineage, and how we always have special people along the way who have helped us in some manner. There is no such thing as a self-made photographer, that is a complete myth. Newman had a long list of photographers who had influenced and helped him along the way, so a photographic lineage was something that he acknowledged too. All photographers have branches of photographic roots going in all directions.

As someone who learned photography from both Brooks Institute and the University of New Mexico’s Graduate School of Fine Arts, I think I have a longer list than usual, and am not shy about crediting all of the very giving people from this journey. Arnold Newman was a natural teacher and loved sharing not only his knowledge about all things photographic, but also the more rarefied parts of life that had to do with humility, giving, and having a heartfelt love of humanity in general.

Happy Birthday Arnold, you were the gift to the world, we miss you, and we’ll never forget you.

Story by Larry McNeil, Copyright 2011, All Rights Reserved.

The past couple months have been occupied mostly with production work. I’m always a bit surprised at how labor intensive digital photography can be; I timed my Fellowship work so that a first wave of shooting could be done by early winter and I could spend the cold months holed up in my studio office doing the editing work on my computer. I kind of feel like the proverbial reclusive monk and am only missing the shaved head and robes.

One of the reasons I shot a few of these scenes with Kodachrome is that if you shot this with a digital camera, you'd get a lot of noise from the fog and the nuances of the feel of the winter fog would be minimized. Part of the global climate change project includes what could be perceived as mundane scenes of power lines. It's these seemingly ordinary scenes that we take for granted that is having a dramatic impact with changing our global climate.

From the Power Line series, which has to do with CO2 emissions and the global climate crisis. The other photos I'm working on right now are of coal fired power plants and the largest coal mine in North America in Wyoming. It's a sight to behold.

My biggest reality check with working on this Fellowship project is simply not teaching this semester. This is the first time that I haven’t taught for two consecutive semesters since 1991. Don’t get me wrong, I love teaching  and even miss some of my students, but having the opportunity to work full-time on this Arts & Humanities Fellowship is pretty nice too.

This is the film from the Fuji TX Panoramic camera. It makes a photo that is twice as wide as a regular field of view.

I did a lot of the shooting in late fall and early winter. My most recent journey was to California to photograph power plants and wind farms in East Bay. I'd do the research on the power plants prior to my trips and map it out on Google Earth and plug all the coordinates into my GPS.

This GPS has been one of my best tools for this Fellowship project. Many of the sites I've visited were in obscure places that were challenging to find, and this GPS unit always took me directly to where I needed to go. I'm totally amazed at their accuracy.

I got this GPS in Aotearoa (New Zealand) two years ago when I was traveling the country via automobile. It did a splendid job of getting me around the country so I could concentrate on driving on the opposite side of the road and not have to navigate. It’s cool that these GPS units talk to you and tell you where to go so you don’t have to take your attention from the road. It has a most peculiar woman’s Australian accent and became a “She.” One of my stops in Aotearoa was at Massey University, where I spent a couple of days as a visiting artist. While having dinner with Robert Jahnke, the Head of the Maori Visual Arts Program, he suggested that perhaps it should be named “Matilda,” which is the name she now goes by.

At any rate, Matilda has been my guide on these Fellowship journeys, some of which were quite stormy and gloomy, which ironically enough, made for some excellent photographs.

This was my journey to Eastern Wyoming, where the largest coal mine in North America resides. It's run by the Peabody Company and it runs trainloads of coal around the clock, 24-7 to coal powered power plants all over America. It's quite the iconic place for the start of the 21st Century and the global climate crisis.

It was pouring rain most of the time, but I liked the look of the photos and appreciated tough cameras. This is one of my favorite digital cameras, the mighty Canon 5D MKII. It has a full-sized image sensor and shoots as fast as my pro film cameras. It kept right on shooting even though it got instantly drenched in just the few moments I was in the driving rain.

This has got to be my favorite camera ever. It's a Hasselblad medium format camera and I've used versions of it for over 30 years. It's still relevant in the digital age because of the impeccable negatives that are in turn scanned into the computer, so it's really a hybrid tool that crosses over to digital photography.

The cool part of the Hasselblad system is that it's likely the most modular camera system out there. I found this film back that is the "Moon Version" that was released to celebrate Hasselblad's contribution to the NASA Apollo missions. From a practical standpoint, I can tell at a glance that this is my film back that is loaded with infrared film.

Film processing is still fun; I'm splitting my work between digital photos and film. Each has its own distinct look and I like both for different feels conveyed. I don't have to pick one over the other and can take the best of what each has to offer. I really love the tactile nature of film and processing it by hand. In my opinion, it is important to turn off the computer and get away from the constant online buzz & image processing programs, and to give yourself quiet time to contemplate what's going on with not only your project, but with life in general.

Scanning negatives is definitely a high art, and I offer my thanks to the photo gods often... usually with coffee. This is a custom-made negative holder that holds the film flatter than the one that came with the scanner, which is so critical for sharply defined images.

Darth Scanner (play ominous soundtrack here). It's a workhorse of a scanner and does a fabulous job, especially with medium format negatives.

Part of the digital editing has to do with applying various filters to the photos. It's necessary because photos straight out of digital cameras are generally a bit soft and need to be sharpened, among other things.

Coal Fired Power Plant in MIchigan; the late afternoon light was surreal because the emissions put a thick haze in the atmosphere and the smokestack took on a gritty appearance. In my opinion, light is still what makes a photograph with an emotive punch; you don't have to intellectualize about a significant part of the meaning.

Over the winter I’ve been keeping busy with the production work involved with the project. Back in late December, the last rolls of Kodachrome were processed at the lab in Kansas, so I made sure I shot the last 21 rolls of Kodachrome as part of this project. I’ve got a fairly substantial backlog of work to do at the Research Park, where I have a very nice office with an awesome view of the mountains. I was just talking to a friend online about having an assistant. I told her that I actually need three; a minion, a henchman and a yes-man. But in reality, I like all of the aspects of the work, even the more mundane aspects like archiving the work, which can put you in a Zen-like state if done properly. Ommm. It can be very meditative, which is definitely a part of the creative process.

We can't talk about photography projects without mentioning coffee, now can we? I've got a new coffee maker, but it deserves it's own blog entry. I like coffee emissions much better than the CO2 ones on my journeys...

A sincere note of gratitude goes out to the Boise State University Arts and Humanities Institute and the Boise State University Division of Research for the Boise State University Arts and Humanities Fellowship, which grants faculty the opportunity to work on a fellowship project for a year (I am a Research Fellow for the 2010-2011 academic year).

Story & Photos Copyright Larry McNeil, All Rights Reserved, 2011

≈ For this fleeting winterlude, you kind of need to set up a bona fide late December  ambiance before skimming through this. Imagine the Vince Guarldi Charlie Brown Christmas tune in the background. I’m serious. Then pour yourself a mug of rich, real hot chocolate on the cold winter night. That is my price of admission…

As a ghost town, Madrid wasn’t really scary or mysterious; it had an ambiance more like an old run down hooker or something; maybe a bit tragic, maybe a bit from the wild side, where a quick buck was a part of the equation and people left once it was drained of anything of value. The harsh bright light of day only enhanced the feel of a place used cheaply and rough. This was December of 1977 on highway 14 between Santa Fe andAlbuquerque. The surrounding high desert landscape was nothing less than stunning, and I could swear that this quirky little place seemed to be trying to return back to the Earth.

Highway 14 to Santa Fe

While cruising through on that December afternoon all those years ago, what really stood out was the biting cold wind on a bright grey day. The starkness was palpable with skeletal shacks and even more desolate trees that seemed not only without leaves, but just plain dead. Shiny white tumbleweeds rolled mockingly across the road as if they were the dominant life force around here. It was as though they were saying ok, you can be here, just stay the fuck out of our way. Tough tumbleweeds.

It was also as if time had nearly sucked the color right out of this part of the world and certainly intriguing enough to stop the car and go see what this was all about. The air was remarkably clear, as if it got a degree more transparent. I poked my head in a couple of the shacks. There was junk littered about, the disjointed dregs of past lives. While nosing around in another abandoned shack I was startled to hear someone approaching. What’s up, man?, said the scruffy looking guy who seemed to be about my age. We made small talk about how just plain empty the place felt, a subject he seemed to know quite well, even through his not-quite focused, eyes.

He asked if I wanted to see his house. We walked about a block down to the corner and he proudly showed me his place. The windows had worn out translucent plastic sheeting nailed over them and the inside had a ratty looking little wood stove with tufts of smoke coming out of its seams. But it was warm and there was a single chair by the light of the window next to a wooden crate used for a table with a single half burned candle. He was definitely way off the grid. There was a neat row of empty beer cans next to the door. It was clearly home.

Well, I’ve got to hit the road, I told him. Ok he said. While walking to my car, I noticed a little bare tree next to his shack. Dangling from its branches were what looked like a couple of six-packs of empty white and red beer cans, tied on with red string. I laughed out loud and he poked his head out the door, asking What? I like your tree I told him. And for some curious reason, I sincerely meant it. Maybe it was just his drunken remembrance of what the December holiday season was all about. The term intransigent came to mind; a plucky tenacity to just hold on, whatever that meant.

Charlie Brown Tree

The tree was a spark of color in a drab town-scape, and nearly every December I think of it, and how it seemed like a real-life warped version of a Charlie Brown tree. I like to think that perhaps it was Charlie Brown as a young man on a journey of discovery that involved traveling by his wits and giving up his worldly possessions, who remembered something important about the holiday season. Of all the garish holiday decorations I’d seen in my travels that month, this one seemed a gritty, yet genuine manifestation of gratitude, or maybe even hope. Who knows?

Copyright 2009, All Rights Reserved

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*Author’s Note: This is about photography. In December of 1977, I was a student at Brooks Institute in my Junior year. It was a grueling year and I was ready to just get the heck out of town. On impulse, loaded up my car and hit the road for Santa Fe. I brought a Hasselblad, film, my wits and not much else. This was the journey where I made the photograph titled Real Indians that was made at the Santo Domingo Pueblo south of Santa Fe. Here’s to winging it on the road. Bottom’s up, buddies.