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.

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

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

Ok all you digital photo snots, move aside, photographer coming through.

In order to be a good photographer, you need some of that rhythmic agitation movement. Your tunes of choice helps with the developing action.

Our good friend Ansel Adams used to talk about filling his darkroom with classical music prior to rolling up his sleeves, putting on his darkroom apron, and getting to it. Taking his advice, I dug out my classic iPod and put on some very classical music. Neil Young’s Change Your Mind from 1994 seemed to fit. Pumpin’ up the volume seemed like a good idea too, come to think of it. There. Ready for some stinkin’ film, man.

I’ve got a magic formula for negatives. It’s an ancient photographic formula bribed from a creaky old alchemist living in a mountaintop cave. Well, ancient in the history of photography anyway. It is finding the film of your choice and processing it with the magic developer called Rodinal. It was made by Agfa, a venerable German company and has been in existence for over 100 years. It really is magic because it does something that other developers only wish they could do when they grow up. It develops highlights and shadow areas differently, like it was smart enough to know where to amp it up and hold back a bit. As a result, you got better contrast between shadow and highlight areas. Nice, nice stuff.

Ross Knapper, one of my former students showed me this "Massive Development Chart" iPhone App that has earned a place in my darkroom apron pocket. I wish I had this years ago; the math for the proper dilutions used to drive me completely bats.

I20 Infrared film, reels and a big honkin' tank.

Infrared b&w negatives ready to scan. You can't beat those snazzy Carl Zeiss lenses.

I could use techie terms like Dynamic range, but who really cares? I want to see the magic, man. Slap those prints on the table and let’s see what you got.

Oh, I almost forgot. These are the negatives from the Global Climate Change Fellowship. I couldn’t be happier with the results and now it is off to edit, scan and otherwise rework them to fit my visual aesthetic. I’m going to use what my artist friend Susie Silook and I call “Power Tools,” which are actually quite ancient.