I like film...(open thread)

[Suede]

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Calm, composed and friendly in Mandalay.

 

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Ilford HP5 400

[Steve Ricoh]

Totally agree, Adam. At 3200 it’s more like a special effects film, with grain hiding a lot of details. I’ve had excellent results at 1600, and never tried it at 800-1000, but I guess it would look even better. I’ve also seen T-max 400 pushed two stops that look comparably nice.

Having exposed at 1600 it only makes sense to pull development to 1600 - but what do I know (relatively nothing when it comes to film).

I'm not sure what's going on if the manufacturer states it's really only 1000 ISO (did I read that correctly?), but labels as 3200. This sounds like something from the mind of Lewis Carroll.

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[gnuyork]

Visited a friend I haven't seen in a long time this summer. He and his wife have recently started a farm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rolleiflex MX-EVS type 2

T-Max 400 (expired)

Xtol 1:1

Edited December 12, 2017 by gnuyork

[wattsy]

Comma (Polygonia c-album) in a clearing in Chiddingfold Forest. I rarely crop but this is cropped roughly 2x. Portra 400 and Macro Elmar-M.

 

[wattsy]

Late autumn view from Whitehorse Hill in Oxfordshire. Usually I'd straighten the horizon but I prefer this one slightly wonky. BW400CN and 28 Summaron-M.

 

Edited December 12, 2017 by wattsy

[wattsy]

Daughter going home from school. Portra 400.

 

 

 

And, from the same roll of film, a scruffy field of borage.

 

Edited December 12, 2017 by wattsy

[Keith (M)]

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Visited a friend I haven't seen in a long time this summer. He and his wife have recently started a farm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rolleiflex MX-EVS type 2

T-Max 400 (expired)

Xtol 1:1

A fine-looking bunch of porkers!

[Keith (M)]

Somerford Keynes Parish Church - on a very dull day.  Hasselblad 500C, 60mm Distagon, Fomapan 200.

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[edwardkaraa]

Having exposed at 1600 it only makes sense to pull development to 1600 - but what do I know (relatively nothing when it comes to film).

I'm not sure what's going on if the manufacturer states it's really only 1000 ISO (did I read that correctly?), but labels as 3200. This sounds like something from the mind of Lewis Carroll.

Ilford website does indeed show different recommended developing times for 800-1600-3200 and maybe 6400 (not sure about the last one). The few times I shot this film I did inform my lab about my iso rating and they processed accordingly. But as Adam mentioned this film is low contrast so shooting at 1600 and developing for 3200 may help increase the contrast, though I personally would prefer to do that at the post scanning stage.

 

As for your last point, it is worth noting that b/w film does not really have a fixed iso rating. The iso rating is loosely based on what developer is used, development times, and some arbitrary density measurements.

Edited December 12, 2017 by edwardkaraa

[thpf]

From a trip to Vezeley (Burgundy)

SWC on Tripod with FP4/ID11

Thomas

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[Ernest]

I don't know about you, but I'm attracted to these sorts of anonymous landscapes where things seem to between happening and not happening:

 

 

Malibu Hills, California 2016

M6TTL, 35mm Summicron, Portra 160

Provocative: “anonymous landscapes where things seem to (be) between happening and not happening.“ Applause for your selective eye to document and what you call the “anonymous landscape.” There can be a slippery slope between text and image when we use words to describe or define because here, ironically, naming this “nameless“ landscape photograph “anonymous” does exactly the opposite. Your photograph now makes it specific. Looking at the site, it appears nameless, nondescript, faceless, non-public, unremarkable, perhaps even secret.

 

What is remarkable is that your photograph transforms the status of this site from being anonymous to famous in the sense that it is published and accessible for scrutiny. In other words, the site which was once faceless has now been given a face by virtue of your photograph. One might use the word banal to describe the place as commonplace, dull, or uninvolving, which brings us to the point that the place is “where things seem to (be) between happening or not happening.”

 

You are actually photographing “the presence of absence.” The landscape in this frame is pregnant with potential. It is no longer banal or on involving but rather quite the opposite by engaging the viewer in a kind of interpretive dialogue to complete that which is missing, that which is absent. It is a scene in stasis with the potential to give birth to the next moment, which is absent.

 

Michelangelo Antonioni used this artistic sense of nothingness in his landmark film L’ Avventura, and, of course, Samuel Beckett staked out this real estate 10 years earlier in his plays. Both are employing a characteristic of Gap theory, which put simply allows the viewer/reader to complete that which is missing. Shakespeare used it to bridge gaps in time, and it was a notable feature of the poetry in British romanticism. Your photograph, then, is tethered to the past. In fact, your Malibu Hills landscape exemplifies the ruins that captured the imagination of the British romantic poets.

 

As Ian keenly observes the echo of a mountain/Hill/mound, Applauding the composition, I want to add that there is a sense of the passage of time: the wilderness mountain in the distance, man-cultivated hill in the middle ground, and the construction mound of sand in the foreground.

 

The presence of absence. We are in the middle of what happened, what is happening, and can only imagine what will happen. And it is enigmatic. What sense do we have of the place? What are the gaps we can fill in with either verifiable observation or imaginary supposition? Where does gut instinct take us? Can we use words to get a fix on coordinates, emotionally or intellectually? How do we process this reconnaissance? What are the justifiable descriptors? Or can we title this document: People’s Exhibit 23A; NFS; Murdered Landscape; Sanctuary; James Dean 1955; Playground; or Michael Heizer’s Daydream?

Or simply name it using numbers like a Rothko painting? Perhaps just “Untitled“ as the title.

 

And then there is the whole issue of scale. The intimacy of an iPhone image versus 7’ x 10‘ museum installation. This is a landscape where the imagination can wander and wonder. Stray cat has claws into the provocative. Good show.

 

 

 

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[chrism]

I've spent the last few days catching up on the Netflix series 'The Crown'. I assume the producers now have cornered the market on Graflex 4x5 cameras, since it seems no other camera was used by any form of press photographer (OK, I did see one Rolleiflex in passing), and I was amazed at their need to waste expensive flashbulbs, not only in the broad daylight of the UK, but also under the midday tropical sun. I am now convinced that a pressman has only taken a photograph if he used both hands to hold a Graflex and a flashbulb was burnt to hell in the process (preferably in slow motion).

One further remark is that we must discover the film stock used by Anthony Armstrong-Jones, who used an M3 and a Hasselblad 500 in near darkness with no flash, no metering, and sometimes at about six inches distance without adjusting the focus. Best of all, he could hold the camera steady with only one hand!

All this makes me feel totally incompetent, and I shall have to either do the honourable thing with my Webley-Scott .455 or go digital.

 

Oh. Here's a squirrel. On film.

Mr Squirrel by chrism229, on Flickr

 

(Otherwise, the series wasn't bad at all.)

[mikemgb]

I've spent the last few days catching up on the Netflix series 'The Crown'. I assume the producers now have cornered the market on Graflex 4x5 cameras, since it seems no other camera was used by any form of press photographer (OK, I did see one Rolleiflex in passing), and I was amazed at their need to waste expensive flashbulbs, not only in the broad daylight of the UK, but also under the midday tropical sun. I am now convinced that a pressman has only taken a photograph if he used both hands to hold a Graflex and a flashbulb was burnt to hell in the process (preferably in slow motion).

One further remark is that we must discover the film stock used by Anthony Armstrong-Jones, who used an M3 and a Hasselblad 500 in near darkness with no flash, no metering, and sometimes at about six inches distance without adjusting the focus. Best of all, he could hold the camera steady with only one hand!

All this makes me feel totally incompetent, and I shall have to either do the honourable thing with my Webley-Scott .455 or go digital.

 

Oh. Here's a squirrel. On film.

Mr Squirrel by chrism229, on Flickr

 

(Otherwise, the series wasn't bad at all.)

 

My wife and I watched episode 2 last night. We did wonder how much they paid for all those Graflex flash units, the Star Wars crowd would love to get their hands on that lot!

[Steve Ricoh]

Provocative: “anonymous landscapes where things seem to (be) between happening and not happening.“ Applause for your selective eye to document and what you call the “anonymous landscape.” There can be a slippery slope between text and image when we use words to describe or define because here, ironically, naming this “nameless“ landscape photograph “anonymous” does exactly the opposite. Your photograph now makes it specific. Looking at the site, it appears nameless, nondescript, faceless, non-public, unremarkable, perhaps even secret.

What is remarkable is that your photograph transforms the status of this site from being anonymous to famous in the sense that it is published and accessible for scrutiny. In other words, the site which was once faceless has now been given a face by virtue of your photograph. One might use the word banal to describe the place as commonplace, dull, or uninvolving, which brings us to the point that the place is “where things seem to (be) between happening or not happening.”

You are actually photographing “the presence of absence.” The landscape in this frame is pregnant with potential. It is no longer banal or on involving but rather quite the opposite by engaging the viewer in a kind of interpretive dialogue to complete that which is missing, that which is absent. It is a scene in stasis with the potential to give birth to the next moment, which is absent.

Michelangelo Antonioni used this artistic sense of nothingness in his landmark film L’ Avventura, and, of course, Samuel Beckett staked out this real estate 10 years earlier in his plays. Both are employing a characteristic of Gap theory, which put simply allows the viewer/reader to complete that which is missing. Shakespeare used it to bridge gaps in time, and it was a notable feature of the poetry in British romanticism. Your photograph, then, is tethered to the past. In fact, your Malibu Hills landscape exemplifies the ruins that captured the imagination of the British romantic poets.

As Ian keenly observes the echo of a mountain/Hill/mound, Applauding the composition, I want to add that there is a sense of the passage of time: the wilderness mountain in the distance, man-cultivated hill in the middle ground, and the construction mound of sand in the foreground.

The presence of absence. We are in the middle of what happened, what is happening, and can only imagine what will happen. And it is enigmatic. What sense do we have of the place? What are the gaps we can fill in with either verifiable observation or imaginary supposition? Where does gut instinct take us? Can we use words to get a fix on coordinates, emotionally or intellectually? How do we process this reconnaissance? What are the justifiable descriptors? Or can we title this document: People’s Exhibit 23A; NFS; Murdered Landscape; Sanctuary; James Dean 1955; Playground; or Michael Heizer’s Daydream?

Or simply name it using numbers like a Rothko painting? Perhaps just “Untitled“ as the title.

And then there is the whole issue of scale. The intimacy of an iPhone image versus 7’ x 10‘ museum installation. This is a landscape where the imagination can wander and wonder. Stray cat has claws into the provocative. Good show.

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

Blooming heck, and all I thought it's a nice photo.

[A miller]

Made me smile, Keith.  That's a really big belly!  Looks like he swallowed a watermelon whole!

Contemplating life on a fruit-only diet...  M7, 50mm C-Sonnar f1.5, Acros 100.

 

Breathtaking scenes, Eoin.  Loads of interesting foreground.

Breaker Bay, Wellington, NZ

903 w/ Delta 100

 

M005 by Eoin Christie, on Flickr

 

M008 by Eoin Christie, on Flickr

 

Very nice portrait!

Calm, composed and friendly in Mandalay.

 

Old monk1.jpg

Ilford HP5 400

 

This first one is precious, if can be said for a couple of filthy pigs

Visited a friend I haven't seen in a long time this summer. He and his wife have recently started a farm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rolleiflex MX-EVS type 2

T-Max 400 (expired)

Xtol 1:1

 

Very nice one, Ian.  The deep shadow actually enhances the composition IMHO.

Late autumn view from Whitehorse Hill in Oxfordshire. Usually I'd straighten the horizon but I prefer this one slightly wonky. BW400CN and 28 Summaron-M.

 

 

 

Wow, great detail and tones on this one.  Congrats on the execution and development.  You might check the leveling - on my monitor it might benefit from a slight tilt to the right.  Could just be me, though I threw out my back yesterday at the gym

 

From a trip to Vezeley (Burgundy)

SWC on Tripod with FP4/ID11

Thomas

 

 

Ernest - very very articulate.  I can only think of one person on this thread who can respond in kind...

Provocative: “anonymous landscapes where things seem to (be) between happening and not happening.“ Applause for your selective eye to document and what you call the “anonymous landscape.” There can be a slippery slope between text and image when we use words to describe or define because here, ironically, naming this “nameless“ landscape photograph “anonymous” does exactly the opposite. Your photograph now makes it specific. Looking at the site, it appears nameless, nondescript, faceless, non-public, unremarkable, perhaps even secret.

What is remarkable is that your photograph transforms the status of this site from being anonymous to famous in the sense that it is published and accessible for scrutiny. In other words, the site which was once faceless has now been given a face by virtue of your photograph. One might use the word banal to describe the place as commonplace, dull, or uninvolving, which brings us to the point that the place is “where things seem to (be) between happening or not happening.”

You are actually photographing “the presence of absence.” The landscape in this frame is pregnant with potential. It is no longer banal or on involving but rather quite the opposite by engaging the viewer in a kind of interpretive dialogue to complete that which is missing, that which is absent. It is a scene in stasis with the potential to give birth to the next moment, which is absent.

Michelangelo Antonioni used this artistic sense of nothingness in his landmark film L’ Avventura, and, of course, Samuel Beckett staked out this real estate 10 years earlier in his plays. Both are employing a characteristic of Gap theory, which put simply allows the viewer/reader to complete that which is missing. Shakespeare used it to bridge gaps in time, and it was a notable feature of the poetry in British romanticism. Your photograph, then, is tethered to the past. In fact, your Malibu Hills landscape exemplifies the ruins that captured the imagination of the British romantic poets.

As Ian keenly observes the echo of a mountain/Hill/mound, Applauding the composition, I want to add that there is a sense of the passage of time: the wilderness mountain in the distance, man-cultivated hill in the middle ground, and the construction mound of sand in the foreground.

The presence of absence. We are in the middle of what happened, what is happening, and can only imagine what will happen. And it is enigmatic. What sense do we have of the place? What are the gaps we can fill in with either verifiable observation or imaginary supposition? Where does gut instinct take us? Can we use words to get a fix on coordinates, emotionally or intellectually? How do we process this reconnaissance? What are the justifiable descriptors? Or can we title this document: People’s Exhibit 23A; NFS; Murdered Landscape; Sanctuary; James Dean 1955; Playground; or Michael Heizer’s Daydream?
Or simply name it using numbers like a Rothko painting? Perhaps just “Untitled“ as the title.

And then there is the whole issue of scale. The intimacy of an iPhone image versus 7’ x 10‘ museum installation. This is a landscape where the imagination can wander and wonder. Stray cat has claws into the provocative. Good show.



Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

Chris  - that is not film.  You're lying.  That also doesn't look like the squirrels we have in New York City.  Too fluffy.

I've spent the last few days catching up on the Netflix series 'The Crown'. I assume the producers now have cornered the market on Graflex 4x5 cameras, since it seems no other camera was used by any form of press photographer (OK, I did see one Rolleiflex in passing), and I was amazed at their need to waste expensive flashbulbs, not only in the broad daylight of the UK, but also under the midday tropical sun. I am now convinced that a pressman has only taken a photograph if he used both hands to hold a Graflex and a flashbulb was burnt to hell in the process (preferably in slow motion).

One further remark is that we must discover the film stock used by Anthony Armstrong-Jones, who used an M3 and a Hasselblad 500 in near darkness with no flash, no metering, and sometimes at about six inches distance without adjusting the focus. Best of all, he could hold the camera steady with only one hand!

All this makes me feel totally incompetent, and I shall have to either do the honourable thing with my Webley-Scott .455 or go digital.

 

Oh. Here's a squirrel. On film.

 

Mr Squirrel by chrism229, on Flickr

 

(Otherwise, the series wasn't bad at all.)

[A miller]

Here's another from snowy Central Park at night.

Delta 3200; 503cw, 80 planar

Welcome, dear visitor! As registered member you'd see an image here…

Simply register for free here – We are always happy to welcome new members!

Edited December 12, 2017 by A miller

[stray cat]

Provocative: “anonymous landscapes where things seem to (be) between happening and not happening.“ Applause for your selective eye to document and what you call the “anonymous landscape.” There can be a slippery slope between text and image when we use words to describe or define because here, ironically, naming this “nameless“ landscape photograph “anonymous” does exactly the opposite. Your photograph now makes it specific. Looking at the site, it appears nameless, nondescript, faceless, non-public, unremarkable, perhaps even secret.

 

What is remarkable is that your photograph transforms the status of this site from being anonymous to famous in the sense that it is published and accessible for scrutiny. In other words, the site which was once faceless has now been given a face by virtue of your photograph. One might use the word banal to describe the place as commonplace, dull, or uninvolving, which brings us to the point that the place is “where things seem to (be) between happening or not happening.”

 

You are actually photographing “the presence of absence.” The landscape in this frame is pregnant with potential. It is no longer banal or on involving but rather quite the opposite by engaging the viewer in a kind of interpretive dialogue to complete that which is missing, that which is absent. It is a scene in stasis with the potential to give birth to the next moment, which is absent.

 

Michelangelo Antonioni used this artistic sense of nothingness in his landmark film L’ Avventura, and, of course, Samuel Beckett staked out this real estate 10 years earlier in his plays. Both are employing a characteristic of Gap theory, which put simply allows the viewer/reader to complete that which is missing. Shakespeare used it to bridge gaps in time, and it was a notable feature of the poetry in British romanticism. Your photograph, then, is tethered to the past. In fact, your Malibu Hills landscape exemplifies the ruins that captured the imagination of the British romantic poets.

 

As Ian keenly observes the echo of a mountain/Hill/mound, Applauding the composition, I want to add that there is a sense of the passage of time: the wilderness mountain in the distance, man-cultivated hill in the middle ground, and the construction mound of sand in the foreground.

 

The presence of absence. We are in the middle of what happened, what is happening, and can only imagine what will happen. And it is enigmatic. What sense do we have of the place? What are the gaps we can fill in with either verifiable observation or imaginary supposition? Where does gut instinct take us? Can we use words to get a fix on coordinates, emotionally or intellectually? How do we process this reconnaissance? What are the justifiable descriptors? Or can we title this document: People’s Exhibit 23A; NFS; Murdered Landscape; Sanctuary; James Dean 1955; Playground; or Michael Heizer’s Daydream?

Or simply name it using numbers like a Rothko painting? Perhaps just “Untitled“ as the title.

 

And then there is the whole issue of scale. The intimacy of an iPhone image versus 7’ x 10‘ museum installation. This is a landscape where the imagination can wander and wonder. Stray cat has claws into the provocative. Good show.

 

 

 

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

Thank you very much, Ernest, for your erudite thoughts on my humble photograph.

 

Let's indeed call it 'Untitled' - I like that.

 

I referred to it (the landscape) as "anonymous" because I'd actually passed it a couple of days earlier, on my way to the ubiquitous "somewhere else" (specific, non-anonymous place). But I sensed that it was, indeed, as you so thoughtfully point out, enigmatic. Can something be both enigmatic and anonymous at the same time? Hmmm. By one definition of anonymous ("lacking individuality, distinction, or recognizability"- Merriam-Webster) this landscape is, as you correctly state, not anonymous at all. After all, at least one photograph exists of it, published on the WWW for all the world to enjoy. Whether it ceased to be anonymous because the picture was taken, or because the picture was published, or because someone actually saw the published picture and related it to a real, extant place, is possibly moot. "The presence of absence" as again you have so articulately put it, is indeed what this photograph is about. And, as such, it is anonymous because its very lack of individuality, distinction or recognizability transforms it from a specific place (Malibu Hills) to something altogether more universal. Much like - and again, I am so glad you invoked one of my all-time best-loved films - L'Avventura - sets the Aeolian island landscape to be a universal anonymous place where an elliptical (or, put another way, enigmatic) mystery develops only to be subsumed by the development of a laconic affair. Such, however unromantically, was not to be the fate of my Malibu Hills landscape. I stopped, made a couple of exposures, drank it all in for a few moments, and then moved on, as we always seem to do in our preoccupied lives. I am exceedingly happy, though, to think that these few fleeting moments may have given me some link, albeit as I see it undeserved and tenuous, to Keats, Shelley, Byron, Coleridge, Beckett, Shakespeare et al!

 

As an aside, your suggested title of "Murdered Landscape" reminded me of an exhibition mounted some years ago by a former tutor I'd studied under while at photography college, Susan Fereday. She'd gained access to - "repurposed" would be the current expression - archival photographs from police files that had been taken at the sites of murders in and around Melbourne in the 1940s, 50s and 60s and made beautiful black and white prints of them. These pictures had been taken contextually and did not show bodies or offer any other clue that a murder had taken place there, yet they held (for me at least) a most compelling power - perhaps much more so than had the unfortunate victims been shown.

 

Photography is, potentially, so much about mystery. It purports to show reality - and it does - but exactly what reality it shows is selective and at the sole discretion of the person with his or her finger on the button, or who at least has access to the negatives/prints/files and has the imagination to be able to see a broader context to these things than was perhaps originally intended. Larry Sultan and Mike Mandel's book "Evidence" is of course a classic example of that. It is also - and again I am so glad you have recognized it in my photograph - uniquely descriptive of the passage of time, which itself embodies unknowable mystery - as Adam's wonderful pictures taken at 5am in Central Park so eloquently allude. My picture was made on a Sunday - what are the chances that pile of dirt would still be there on Monday evening?

 

I do like 'Untitled' as a title.

[stray cat]

Here's another snap I made - this time of a building that is far from anonymous. And yet...

 

Sydney 2009

M6TTL, 28mm Elmarit, Yellow filter, Rollei Retro 100

[gbealnz]

I've spent the last few days catching up on the Netflix series 'The Crown'. I assume the producers now have cornered the market on Graflex 4x5 cameras, since it seems no other camera was used by any form of press photographer (OK, I did see one Rolleiflex in passing), and I was amazed at their need to waste expensive flashbulbs, not only in the broad daylight of the UK, but also under the midday tropical sun. I am now convinced that a pressman has only taken a photograph if he used both hands to hold a Graflex and a flashbulb was burnt to hell in the process (preferably in slow motion).

One further remark is that we must discover the film stock used by Anthony Armstrong-Jones, who used an M3 and a Hasselblad 500 in near darkness with no flash, no metering, and sometimes at about six inches distance without adjusting the focus. Best of all, he could hold the camera steady with only one hand!

All this makes me feel totally incompetent, and I shall have to either do the honourable thing with my Webley-Scott .455 or go digital.

 

Oh. Here's a squirrel. On film.

 

(Otherwise, the series wasn't bad at all.)

Go digital please, I have first hand seen the alternative you are suggesting, not at all pleasant.

Nothing worse than a keen photographer shooting his M3 or Hassy 500.

Gary

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Hallo,

Look here: Interesting Leica gear

[A miller]

Here's another snap I made - this time of a building that is far from anonymous. And yet...

 

Sydney 2009

M6TTL, 28mm Elmarit, Yellow filter, Rollei Retro 100

 

props to you and your M6 on this one.  Really thoughtful framing.