Waterloo

This morning I went to the famous site of the Waterloo battle. In June 1815 this was the scene of indescribable carnage as Napoleon's army collided with the allied Anglo-Dutch and Prussian forces. Now there is a famous monument - the "Butte du Lion" - which towers above the undulating fields.

I was at the "Butte" a few months ago, with the family and accompanied by fellow photographer Johan Doumont. The result was a series of promising series of pictures, most of them taken at the panorama platform on top of the "Butte". The one shown here is my daughter Emma peering through one of the telescopes (taken with the Bessa L and the 15mm Heliar on Efke 100 film).

One way or another, people are more relaxed on these few square meters 40 meters above the ground. It's as if these 225 steps (or so) are enough to remove one from the hustle and bustle of the world down there. So, you can indulge in some interesting people watching and photographing.

This morning it was very cold. The car thermometer showed -3°C but on the platform with the wind head on it felt more like -15°C. Despite the cold there was lively traffic up there. I stayed for 45 minutes, witnessing whirlwind visits of Belorussians, Koreans, Germans, Spanish crowds (most disappeared within a minute). I hope I have some good shots. But I am sure I missed quite a few good ones. This time I took the M4 with the 15mm Heliar, the M2 with the 35/2.8 Summaron and an old Olympus OM-10 with a 55/1.2 Zuiko.

This could be an interesting photo project. From next year onwards, the whole site will be renovated (to be finished in 2008). Most of the buildings (cafés and visitor centre) will disappear and a completely new visitor center will be built, including an exhibition space ...

And another Mongolia book

Yesterday I was at the Dutch Photo Museum (Nederlands Fotomuseum, Rotterdam) where I picked up another Mongolia photobook. It's a recent publication by young Dutch photographer Marco van Duyvendijk (1974).

The colophon of the book mentions: "Marco van Duyvendijk was born in Den Helder, the Netherlands. He studied psychology at Utrecht University, and after his studies started out as a self-taught photographer. During the past years his photography focused on life in Central and Eastern Europe, with the emphasis on Romania. (...) On invitation from the Mongolian Consulate he spent the winter of 2003 and summer of 2004 in Mongolia. The book is the result of those two trips."

"Mongolia" is a thin but generously sized book showing roughly 80 colour photographs. The colour palette is strikingly different from the vibrant, romantic colours used by Michel Setboun in his study. Here we have the washed-out greys, ochres, pinks, brick reds and pistachio greens so typical for Mongolian cityscapes and interiors. It works well and gives the book a distinctive style. What I'm less sure about is the general texture and sharpness of the photos. This must be 35mm format pictures enlarged to just about their limit. Or it may be that the muted colour palette creates an impression of less acutancy. Personally, I like them sharper.

In terms of motivic choice, Marco van Duyvendijk refreshingly steers away from the cliche, even if most of his settings are familiar from other books (city dwellers, nomads, the monasteries, the mines, Nadaam). But there are some unconventional locales too: an abandoned Soviet military base, circus and ballet schools, a maternity ward. About a third of the book is given to head-and-torso portraits, very much in the contemporary style with sitters looking coolly detached in the lens. The pictures of urban youth with avant garde outfits sporting nazi swastikas may be disappointing to those still hanging on to the myth of the noble nomad.

All in all this is a very judiciously composed portfolio, the whole of which is more than the sum of the parts. To my mind, there is not one picture which can lay claim to timeless greatness, but altogether we have an honest and sober portrait of contemporary Mongolian society.

Marco van Duyvendijk, 2005, Mongolia, Artimo Press, Amsterdam.

Mongolia in photobooks

I just received a copy of a recently published photobook on Mongolia: "Mongolie - Vie nomades en images et en sons" by French photographer Samuel Keller (Acted Sud, 2005). I was fortunate enough to be able to visit this country a few times in the context of a professional assignment. I have a few friends there. And it is the place where this crazy infatuation with photography finally took shape. So I'm always keen to add interesting new (photo)books on this country to my library.

Over the past years there have been quite a few new publications. Apparently it is primarily French photographers who find their way to this Central-Asian enclave: Michel Setboun, Patrick Bard, Frédéric Hermann. And now we have Samuel Keller. All of them explore the three quintessentially Mongolian habitats: the capital city Ulaanbataar, the steppes and (what is left of) the monestaries.

Despite the modest size of his book (16 x 23 cm) Patrick Bard is the one that has penetrated most deeply the spirit of this country, both in words and images. The text, written by the photographer himself (he is an accomplished novelist too), is a very good introduction to Mongolian history, culture and places. His pictures (b&w) are strong and edgy. It is classic reportage photography but of a very high standard. Amongst the many memorable images, I would single out the final one. It is a picture taken at daybreak on the summit of an extinghuished volcano, Shilliin Bogd, in the deep southeast of the country very close to the Chinese border. It is the wish of many Mongolians to undertake a pilgrimage to this place once in their life. The atmosphere on the summit is superbly captured: there is light, a sense of space, of movement and of mystery. Apart from the quality of the pictures, I commend the straightforward but tasteful layout of the book.

Setboun is an independent photographer with a long track record in classical reportage for glossy travel and current affairs magazines. His "Mongolie - Rêve d'Infinie" has been conceived in the conventional coffeetable book mould: colour photography, big book, conventional layout ... . Given the size of the book, the photography is, inevitably, a bit uneven. But I wouldn't want to be without it. Setboun's pictures have a very distinctive look. What strikes is the very prominent but very attractive grain. And then there is the colour palette: very vivid oranges, reds, deep blues and greens, but very soft and earthy greys, browns, yellows and ochres. It looks pleasingly old-fashioned. On top of that there are certainly quite a few imaginative photographs scattered over the book's 200 pages.

I haven't seen Hermann's book on Mongolia, but I have his other volumes on the Transsiberia Express and on Central Asia. I assume there is a certain overlap. Hermann works both in colour and b&w, with the latter making the strongest impression. But I clearly prefer Bard who is purer, leaner and without some of Hermann's irritating tics (such as holding the camera at an angle).

The Keller booklet, finally, is not the strongest from the bunch. It is a neat collection of 50 b&w, square format (always nice!) photos, but despite a couple of quite strong images it makes a rather shallow and haphazard impression. In my opinion, the photographer does not exhibit the same degree of familiarity with his subject as do Bard and Setboun. However, interestingly enough, the book comes with a cd. It features Keller's roadside recordings of Mongolian sounds and songs. Re-hearing the monotonous calls of vendors, the chatter of children playing and the traditional songs evoked powerful memories for me. So all in all I am not unhappy with this book.

Finally, I would like to draw attention to an excellent Mongolia book that has recently been published by Belgian (Flemish) photographer Jan Locus. I know Jan personally and this book has been a real labour of love for many years. His portfolio surveys a mix of traditional (UB, Nadaam) and less familiar locales (military barracks, prisons, coal mines, street children). Locus works within the constraints of the square format with a variety of tools: Hasselblad with an 80mm, a Mamiya 6 and a Diana toy camera. The book has a very special mood and I find it difficult to put the finger exactly on what is so distinctive about it. There is a gritty, epic quality to the pictures that I like very much. We are far removed from the romantic celebration of nomadic pastoralism that seems to be the subtext of most Mongolia books (including those discussed above). At the same time, by exploiting the luscious out-of-focus rendering of his Zeiss optics (and the rather less opulent bokeh of the plastic Diana lens), Locus is able to evoke a dreamy, sometimes surreal atmosphere. I suppose it is the tension between these two elements that continues to fascinate us in these pictures. By the way, no effort has been spared in the production of this book: 600 line quadtone by a specialist Belgian printing house Salto2.

I took the picture accompanying this post with a Horizon 202 panorama camera at central Sukhbataar Square in Ulaanbataar, January 2002.

Results of my first 8x10 excursion are out ...

This is (a section of) the very first frame to come out of my 8x10 camera. Today I developed it at Pol's darkroom (mine will be finished only in a few weeks). Developing sheet films in trays was a first for me too (admittedly, I've "seen" Hans Bol do it a couple of times). I put the Efke 100 in D76 for 10 minutes at 20°C and the result was a bunch of low-contrast, underdeveloped negatives. Development time will have to be increased with 2 or 3 minutes. And I may have to resort to much more vigorous agitation whilst the sheets are in the developing tray.

Another thing to watch for is scratches. Efke is a reputedly very sensitive emulsion and I will need to be even more careful in manipulating the sheets next time.

The final issue is dust. It looks like my filmholders need another good cleaning ...

But apart from these trifles (;-) I am rather satisfied with this initiation in the world of 8x10. Every step down the road makes this format less intimidating. With some practice I am sure I can master this routine and start to use the format in a more creative way.

Picture of the day - Orvieto

The year is drawing to a close and I have some time to spend in the digital darkroom.

I am now printing all the images from my so-called "Italian Portfolio" in 10'x10' size on heavyweight Hahnemühle Photo Rag with the Epson R2400 inkjet printer.

This picture was taken last summer in the splendid hilltop town of Orvieto. There was a roll of Efke 100 (nowadays Adox) in my trusted Rolleiflex 3.5E. It shows a typical Italian 'ambiente': a mixture of fragile, weathered beauty and down-to-earth carelessness.

More images of this portfolio are on display on a dedicated website. However, I am planning to expand the portfolio with pictures from other Mediterranean settings. It might take a while until this project finds its final shape.

The Photobook: A History - Volume 1, by Badger & Parr

I have just posted a review of this marvelous book on Amazon.

It is certainly one of the most inspiring photobooks I have been able to put my hands on this year. Particularly the first chapters dealing with the very early photobooks are captivating. I admire the rather severe style of many of these travel and documentary photographers.

I am looking very much forward to the publication of the second and final volume.

First outing with the 8x10

Today I went out for the first time with the 8x10' camera. It's a Phillips Explorer II. I bought it back in September from Dutch photographer Hans Bol. However, the last couple of months have been very busy. I didn't find the necessary time and leisure to really start working with this demanding new format.

It was a fine day today with clear skies and temperatures just above freezing point. I left at 2 pm and drove south towards the Brabant Wallon. However when I was setting up the camera in Roux -Mirroir, I found out that I forgot the Schneider G-Claron 240mm f9 lens on my desk (not a very promising start, I must admit). I drove back and picked up the lens. By then it was already 3pm and I had to hurry to avoid the light becoming too dim. So, I went to a small nature reserve nearby - De Doode Beemde - and looked for a suitable spot.

I had 3 cassettes, each of which was loaded with 2 sheets of Adox 100 asa film. That meant 6 sheets in all, of which I managed to expose only 2. For the first exposure, I selected a high-contrast scene with the river Dijle meandering between dusky banks in harsh backlight. It was difficult to meter but I didn't take a repeat exposure. I moved the camera further down the path and turned the lens away from the setting sun so as to have a more evenly lighted scene.

I could have gone into town for my first experiments with this camera. But the idea was to go to a quiet spot where I would be able to work inconspicuously. The prospect of having to deal with curious bystanders whilst being not completely comfortable with the large format routine didn't appeal to me. So, whilst I was hiding under the dark cloth to focus the camera for the second exposure, I was surprised to hear a fairly sizable group of walkers heading in my direction. Luckily they seemed to be moving on the other side of the river. Suddenly everyone fell silent. When I moved from under the dark cloth I caught 8 or 9 of them standing on the other bank, transfixed, staring at me and the camera in speechless amazement. A rather funny situation, the irony of which wasn't lost on me.

By 4 pm the sun disappeared behind the trees and I decided to call it a day. In the next couple of days I will expose the remaining four sheets. The purpose is just to become more familiar with the camera and to collect some material to experiment with tray development in the darkroom. To be continued.

Just a word of explanation about the picture accompanying this posting. It is a picture of myself, taken at the end of August by Hans Bol with the Phillips camera and the 240mm G-Claron lens. Hans contactprinted it on Azo paper.

Finally blogging ...

This is my first post on my blog. I'll be writing mixed observations and ruminations on photography. The intention is to do this in a spirit of enquiry and experimentation as befits the transitory nature of this medium. Let's see where this whole blog idea leads us.

I picked the title for the blog from a book by Richard Misrach, an important American photographer. It's fascinating work. More about this later.