Group F/64

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.

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Read more.. Tuesday, November 15th, 2011

Raven tries to figure it out. Or Nature Redefined, Earthscapes & Kimowan.

X’áant xwaanúk Tléil yee ushk’é, I’m angry you are bad is from my body of work about the global climate crisis.

Artists try and make sense of the world. It doesn’t always work because sometimes the world simply doesn’t make sense. So we end up capturing the lunacy.

I assembled this collage around two core images. Raven was first. I was looking for an authoritative, stately posture that would be an iconic black silhouette with a rich, pure charcoal feel. This raven went through the heat and was slightly carbonized, so he was perfect for a cheerful black day at the power plant. Our creation story involves raven and carbon emissions.

I'm Angry you are bad.

I’m Tlingit and we take shit from nobody. If it weren’t for us, Siberia would extend into North America. Either that or Canada would extend west into what is now Alaska. We drove both groups of colonists out of our homeland at the loss of many lives and I mention this only because it is this warrior philosophy that drives nearly everything I do, especially as an artist. The triangles on the right are stylized Killer Whale teeth and there is a faded Chilkat robe pattern in the decayed wall.

Stylized killer whale teeth. I am from the Tlingit Killer Whale Fin House, and the teeth have their origins in some of our ancient spruce root basket designs.

Chilkat robe pattern chipped into an eroded wall with a white raven peering into the empty head of a human.

I felt filthy from photographing coal-fired power plants around the country and actually got a nasty nasal infection from being around them. I feel bad for the people who have to live on the same planet as these thousands of massive coal-fired power plants scattered all over Earth. I also feel bad for the home planet and how badly humans have brutalized her. It makes me rethink the definition of humans and whether it is natural for us to ruin our environment because we do it so well. In that sense, it also has me rethinking the definition of the term “nature,” especially when describing humans and what we make, how we treat our environment and each other. It may mean that a Styrofoam cup is as natural as a buffalo, which kind of scares me.

Earthscape #31 is from the Rocketship Chronicles series. When the Apollo astronauts viewed Earth from the moon, they had a profound revelation. Earth was magical. It also had no borders. They knew from a glance that humanity, all the life there, and the planet were one. This is precisely what every Native tribe has been saying since long before they first met White Man. We are all one; you cannot separate just one element and treat it differently. If you pollute the land and the air, you pollute yourself and all other life, we are all connected. It almost seems gratuitous to say this until you look around and realize that most people don’t get it, especially political leaders and industrialists who only care about their most recent earnings statements.

My Earhscapes are about strengthening the notion that our home planet is indeed all we’ve got to live on and we’ve got to start treating it like it’s a home planet and not a colossal waste heap. It’s a little playful in that there is a quasi- yearning for finding another planet where we can find refuge. Then we come to our senses and think, “Wait a minute. This is OUR home planet. It’s the polluters whose damn asses should be on rocket ships out of here, not ours…

Earthscape #31. I made this photo last year from my rocketship, over the coast of southern California after assisting MFA Photography students at Brooks Institute.

Hasselblad Moon film back from a NASA camera. For real. This is so perfect for my Rocketship Chronicles photos.

I have a portfolio of photos regarding my Rocketship Chronicles on facebook. What’s really cool about it is the feedback I get from friends.

My Rocketship Chronicles portfolio on facebook.

Kimowan’s Journey

One of the most profoundly beautiful, sad and mysterious experiences I’ve had this year was when our sister Hulleah and I went to say farewell to our brother in art Kimowan Metchewais up in Alberta late this summer. I’m reminded that we meet many gentle spirits on this journey of life and the journey is so short, painfully beautiful, and so damn hard sometimes. We ease the journey with each other, at least this much is clear.

After Kimowan started his journey into the spirit world that morning, a series of peculiar events started to unfold. Hulleah and I tried to be unobtrusive as Kimowan’s family went about taking care of Kimowan’s passing in the hospital that morning. Antje was beside herself with grief, as was everyone else. Kimowan’s mom was so gracious and offered to ride with Hulleah and I up to Cold Lake later that morning.

In a moment of silence, Kimowan’s hospital room was vacant, even as people gathered in the guest suite next door sipping coffee and talking quietly, giving each other hugs and tender assurances. There was a feeling of peace and calm amongst the sorrow. Someone laughed gently and gave us the Cree translation for “strong coffee.” I wish I could remember those Cree words. I stood at the window looking out at the view as his family went about taking care of business. I noticed a few young ravens playing right outside his window. One in particular was hopping on the roof, doing what was obviously a shadow dance. He was very taken with his shadow and was clearly enjoying it’s presence. It’s shadow looked like a rocketship. Without even thinking about it I pulled out my camera phone and shot off a bunch of photos, smiling at raven’s oblivious playfulness. It made me wonder if perhaps Kimowan was having a bit of fun on his way, and nature couldn’t help but play along. Kimowan would’ve smiled at the camera phone too, I’m sure. We don’t need no stinkin’ fancy pants cameras, we wing it quite well, thank you.

"Raven Rocket from Kimowan's Window." It's stylized a bit, but is essentially what the scene looked like outside Kimowan's window. Raven loves rocketships even more than me I think.

I have a portfolio of photos that I made on that journey, including many other instances of nature living it up that day. Way more than usual. Here’s to you Kimowan, we miss you.

These are the three prints that I have in our 2011 Biennial Art Department Faculty Exhibition today at the Visual Arts Center. Come and check it out, I’m in some most excellent company.

Story Copyright Larry McNeil 2011, All Rights Reserved

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Read more.. Friday, September 2nd, 2011

Sue Latta’s Art & Workshops

Sue Latta is one cool artist. She graduated from our Master of Fine Arts (MFA) program at BSU a few years ago, and in addition to having a busy exhibition calendar and teaching art, she’s been conducting a number of most excellent art workshops.

From the series "Works of Fiction" in her most recent exhibition at the Visual Arts Collective in Boise. In her own words, "This body of work incorporates the photographic image along with various sculptural and recycled materials to create 3-dimensional tableaus.

I am very proud that Sue earned her MFA in our program; she makes art that has a critical relevance to it, is very intriguing and quite beautiful. There is a visceral mystery to her art that only unfolds after spending time with it, almost as if it’s speaking to the intuitive part of your perceptions. There is a also a very intellectual aspect that is very thoughtful and poetic. Go to her site and see for yourself, or better yet, see her art in person the next time she’s having an exhibition.

Sue has been conducting a number of workshops here in Boise at The Sculpture Studio, where her website states, “The Sculpture Studio is a place for learning. We are here to fill the need in our community for a process oriented, skills based education for every level of artist, from the lifelong sculptor to the art curious, and we make it fun!

I’d have to agree with this; I’m a very advanced artist, yet had a LOT of fun and learned some very cool skills about resin casting. I brought my 15-year old son with me and he loved it too. There were six other people at the workshop with various degrees of expertise and I think I can speak for all of us in that we certainly learned what we’d hoped and did indeed have fun.

My little Olympus rangefinder about to be submerged in the molding material. And you wondered why my cameras sometimes look kind of beat up. This is what happens when when cameras go astray...

Yep, that's my camera submerged in there.

My son T'naa getting ready to take his mold apart. Notice his taped up shirt? If you get any of the chemicals on your clothes, it solidifies and breaks. He covered up two holes with the tape.

Sue helping T'naa take his resin piece out of the mold.

Sue showing T'naa how to get his resin piece out of the mold.

Sue helping me add just a touch of blue to the resin.

I'm doing a bit of hand jive to add good mojo to the resin.

There was some resin left over from my second piece and it solidified before we could use it up. Oops.

This is a solid. It would look cool on the edge of our table.

The teenage critic gives it a thumbs up.

One of the reasons I took Sue's workshop was because I wanted to make one of my cameras look like ice for a photograph I'm working on.

The bottom of the resin camera is cut off  so that it’ll have the appearance of melting into a puddle. In reality it was a happy accident. I didn’t mix enough of the resin, so the mold was only partially filled, but due to a modicum of synchronicity, it’ll be most efficacious for my stratagem. In other words, due to a bit of hand jive and luck, it’ll work nicely.

Sue Latta, thank you for a great workshop! She has her workshops often throughout the year and are most highly recommended! She has a Kid’s Art Workshop and an Intro to Welding Workshop coming up in June.

Story Copyright Larry McNeil, 2011, All Rights Reserved.

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Read more.. Sunday, May 22nd, 2011

The Mystery of the Felix Bonfils Glass Plate Negatives

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 19th 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


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Read more.. Tuesday, March 8th, 2011

The Art of Making (Fellowship Art)

Global Climate Crisis work.
Shooting with film has nothing to do with a yearning for anything retro; there are some instances where film still makes better photographs than digital cameras. Shooting with film is more labor intensive, but it gets the job done, especially with either tricky lighting or where I need a higher degree of nuanced information in the photo.

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


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Read more.. Tuesday, March 1st, 2011

30th Year Give-Away, McNeil Photography

Thirty years ago (1981), I was a professional photographer in Alaska. Has it really been that long?

Alaska's own photographer

This self-portrait was made for a series of magazine ads to plug my services as a pro in 1981. I remember being startled that it worked, and started getting calls for assignments. I wanted to project an air of friendly competence in my studio with this photo.

Big Glasses & Mustache Trivia

Looking at this now, I had to laugh at the big glasses of the day. I was 26 and was in my second year of shooting professionally. I was gratified to see that my mustache still looks about the same. Well, mostly– it’s a bit more grizzled now, but what the heck, right? When I first grew my mustache, one of the grandmothers said that if you grow a mustache, it’s a lifelong commitment, so you’d better be sure about it. I took it to heart and have had it since then and the last time I didn’t have a mustache was when I was 22. Mustache trivia.

Other Stuff in 1981

As for other stuff that was going on in 1981, the computer of the day was the Apple III, which was going for $7,800.00; which roughly equates to $19,000.00 in 2011 dollars (using a Consumer Price Index inflation calculator). All I remember is that computers were these cool new machines that were way out of my price range. It costed more than a new car.


In 1981, the mighty Apple III was the computer of the day. Photo courtesy of Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apple_III

Speaking of cars, the bestselling model was the Ford Escort, which was kind of an upgraded Ford Pinto. Gas was getting expensive and people were more sensitive to getting good gas mileage than now.

My ride was a '76 Scirocco, which got great mileage as I recall, and was a real cruiser-mobile. I'd driven it all over California, out to Santa Fe and finally up to Alaska. I named him Thunderbug in homage to all the VW bugs I'd owned over the years. This is the car I was driving when I made the photo "Real Indians" by the way.

The Print Give-Away!

Here is the nitty gritty of this blog entry. In celebration of this 30th year of promoting my photography I am giving away a photograph that was made in 1981 from my “Yupik Basket Weaver” series. I traveled around Western Alaska for a few months photographing women gathering the materials and coiling their salt water grass baskets in Yupik country.

This is one of the photographs from the series and is the one I'm going to be giving away.

It is titled, “Mrs. Kanrilak” and was made at Tununak as part of the series. It was late fall, just before the first snows and the women were out in the fields collecting the salt water grass that they used to coil their beautiful baskets. Mrs. Kanrilak was wearing a beautiful Kuspuk that was fur lined and had a fabric shell. It was below freezing, but she had to use her bare hands to pick the blades of grass, one by one, which was the way to get the best grass. It was so cold that my camera batteries froze and I had to use external battery packs.

I was staying at  friend’s house and the people were very gracious and hospitable. While walking around the village, people would see me as a stranger and invite me in for tea, just to chat. One of the elder gentleman insisted that my name should be McNeiluk, so that’s how I took to introducing myself and it made them laugh. It was a great experience and I made a lot of wonderful photographs on that journey.

Facebook & Twitter

Over the past couple years I kind of slacked off with the social networking stuff. Most of my friends have hundreds of Twitter followers. As of today, I have ten. Ha ha! Oops. At any rate:

  • Everyone who is a McNeil Tweet follower will be automatically entered in a random drawing. There is a “Follow Me” Tweet link on the far left of this page that you can click to add your name.
  • This will be promoted via the Facebook Events function and this blog entry.
  • It will run from 12:01am February 24th to Noon on March 4th.

The print sells for over a million dollars at the gallery that represents me in Santa Fe. Ok, well maybe a bit less. Don’t tell him about this, by the way, it’s between you and I. Good luck!

Another link to McNeil’s Twitter “Follow Me.”

Facebook Events Page for Give-Away

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Read more.. Wednesday, February 23rd, 2011

Real-life Charlie Brown Tree

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

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

_________________________________

*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.

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Read more.. Friday, December 24th, 2010

Film Cameras Under the Light of a Blue Moon & Zombies

Or Reasons #1 & 2 Why Film Cameras are Still Relevant in the Digital Age

#1: You can use them as hammers.

Forgot your hammer while in the midst of shooting? No problem if you have a film camera. Just pull it out and start banging away. Sure it may leave a little dent or two, but it gets the job done, dang it. Can you do this with a little digital camera? Ha. I laugh openly at the wimpy little camera wannabes.

Ok, so we live in a world being transformed via a dizzying digital maze. It reminds me about what happens with natural selection and the theory of evolution, only with us, it’s happening so fast that we don’t have time to keep up with it all, let alone reflect about what’s going on with it. With natural selection, film cameras are evolving out of existence. Can you use your digital camera as a hammer? Ha. Dream on.

#2: They make a killer Zombie flail.

Well, digital camera smarty pants, what happens when the Zombies attack? Pull out your little digital camera and start popping your little wink flash at them? Ask them politely to unhand you? I’ll be looking out for all the Zombies with little digital cameras still in their pockets. Then let ‘em have it between the eyes with my flail film camera. The cool part is that the handle doubles as a monopod for those tricky low-light scenes.

A crow bar for Zombie attacks? Not likely. Give me the film camera flail any day.

Tonight is a full blue moon, and I’ll be standing by with my film camera ready for nearly anything. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because the tough survivors will be the ones with film cameras, dudes.

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Read more.. Sunday, November 21st, 2010