New series on Dubruk

A new series of pictures has been added to our "Dubruk" website. Dubruk is a shared photographic scrapbook between Johan Doumont and myself.

The idea is quite simple: we go out together on photo trips and then select a series of 6 negatives to be posted side by side. It's about playfully contrasting two perspectives on the same location and at the same point in time. In that spirit, we have had 9 sorties over an 18-month period.

Our last series emerged from a photo trip organised by our club "Park Heverlea" to the little town of Thuin, located in the province of Hainaut (Henegouwen), and the ruines of the Aulne Abbey close by. Thuin is an interesting place to visit. It feels like time has stood still there for 30 years. The atmosphere stirs (sometimes pleasant, sometimes slightly uncomfortable) memories of childhood days.

For this series, I reverted to colour film for the first time since my Mongolian portfolio. I admit I have a weak spot for the delicate colour palette of Fuji Reala. Here, under the diffuse light of a cloudy sky, it worked again very well. Camera used was my trusted Mamiya 6.

First trials with the upgraded Fotoman 612

Half a year ago, I ordered a brand new 6x12 panorama camera from the Chinese manufacturer Fotoman. We knew it would only be a matter of time for the Chinese to set their sights on capturing their share of the photo market. It will be a while before we can expect the first full frame 16 MP digital SLR to come out of the Middle Kingdom. But over the last two years they have started to introduce compelling offerings for analogue, large format photographers. Gone are the days of the rustic Seagull TLRs (although they still exist). Shen Hao, Widepan and Fotoman have quickly become household names for photographers seeking affordable, high quality cameras in a variety of larger formats (starting at 6x9 cm and going up to 7x17').

Fotoman produces and markets a limited number of analogue panoramic (6x12, 6x17, 6x24) and large format wide-angle cameras (4x5, 8x10). As Fuji has stopped the production of its celebrated 6x17 system, Fotoman is now primarily competing against Linhof and Horseman (and against really exotic contraptions such as the Gilde 617) in the panorama segment.

The Fotoman adopts essentially the same concept as the Linhof: the camera is a modular assembly of a fixed-format, rigid-back body, a lens (connected to the body via a customised cone assembly) and a viewfinder. The advantages of the Fotoman 612 are obvious: it is significantly cheaper compared to the Linhof and it offers more flexibility in terms of body-lens combinations.

The disadvantage for early customers of the camera is that some aspects of the design are still evolving as Fotoman is building experience with its line of cameras. The camera I bought last year was fully functional but suffered from a mediocre viewfinder and fairly stodgy focusing ring without a depth-of-field scale. I found that very annoying when using the camera as a street shooter. So I was very glad to hear that Fotoman had upgraded both components (they are obviously listenting to their customers). They invited me to send in the camera for a free upgrade and about a month ago I got it back with a new, clear viewfinder and a much smoother focusing ring with dof scale. Beautiful!

I didn't have a lot of time to try out the camera over the last few weeks. But the first rolls are quite promising. The focusing mechanism works well and the viewfinder is a pleasure to use.
Above is a backlight shot of 17th century Park Abbey, which is very close to where I live (taken on Rollei R3 film @ 400 asa).

I have promised Paul Droluk, an American who is leading the Fotoman business, to write a full-fledged review of the camera as soon as I have some more experience with the upgraded version. My first impressions, however, are very positive. And I'm delighted by the ease of communication with Fotoman and the high level of their customer service. If I were Linhof, I would be very worried.

"Rangefinder Perspectives" show in the works

Preparations for the upcoming "Rangefinder Perspectives" exhibition at local gallery Corso are now in full swing. Opening is scheduled for Friday, January 27th, 7:30pm.

"Rangefinder Perspectives" originated as a project in the photo club of which I am a member. Triggered by similar initiatives by the online Rangefinder Forum, we decided to put together a book with pictures from club members taken only with rangefinder cameras. Our first choice was to make use of the printing-on-demand service offered by lulu.com. We finally settled for an offset printing option which was barely more expensive. In fact, the book was put together in an exceedingly short space of time thanks to the efforts of Johan Doumont (who designed the book) and Jef Schoors (who was able to get a very good deal for us at the printer's).

350 copies of the book were printed, 200 of which have been sold by now. I am happy to say that quite a few members of the online Rangefinder Forum have been kind enough to purchase a copy. "Rangefinder Perspectives" is now lying on photo enthusiasts' tables all over Europe, in the US, Canada and Brazil!

The exhibition was really an afterthought. In fact, when Corso's owner, Bert Verlinden, heard of our initiative, he immediately offered us his gallery walls for a show. This is a great opportunity to have our modest efforts shown in ideal circumstances: it will be difficult to find a more beautiful and luxurious photo gallery in the whole of Belgium, I believe.

Some 60 photographs will be on view (all of them featured in the book, of course). I selected two 35mm frames and four 6x6 images. The latter have been printed at 60x60cm on archival photo rag paper by Bert's Epson 7800. The Leica/Bessa pictures I printed myself on the Epson 2400 at size 30x40cm.

I will follow up with a report of the opening night.

Mindfulness

I just finished this little booklet written by Ellen Langer, a Harvard professor in social psychology. It summarises a mountain of scientific research on the mental condition of mindfulness and its opposite, mindlessness.

Mindfulness to Langer is not a state of mystic bliss in which one is connected with cosmic forces (or whatever "new age" lore one can come up with). She is a scientist after all. She starts by developing the notion of mindlessness as a mental state in which we rely on a host of pre-conceived categories and routines to lead our lives. We are mindless when we let our actions and thoughts be shaped by powerful cultural and contextual givens. We are mindful when we are able to transcend these notions and categories. Being mindful means being more in control of one's destiny, being more alert to opportunities to develop one's potential. Following her research, it also means to live longer and better, to be more healthy, productive and creative, and ultimately to be more human.

This book is of obvious interest to photographers. According to Langer, there are three key ways in which mindlessness manifests itself. Let's put them in the context of practicing the craft of photography:

• "too rigid reliance on categories": how often do we see photographers defining themselves as being a "landscape", a "social documentary", a "conceptual" etc. photographer? Some even see themselves as a "digital" or a "rangefinder" photographer. Putting oneself in such a box obviously limits oneself in one's creative development. But this kind of 'premature cognitive commitment' (as Langer calls it) continues to exert a powerful pull on people who are not interested in reinventing their craft but merely in emulating iconic examples.
  

• "automatic behaviour": after a while, we can drive a car without even thinking about it. It seems people are even able to solve mathematical puzzles without thinking about it. It is also possible to take pictures mindlessly. Large format photographers often tell that one of the main virtues of lugging a big camera around is the slowing down of the pacing and the focus it requires to successfully complete the whole routine of setting up and focusing the camera and exposing the film. This is obviously opposed to the snapshot approach, where you just push the button and hope everything will be allright. In my opinion, however, automatic behaviour doesn't have to be negative. I myself find it immensely enjoyable when I can wander the streets with a bare bones camera, fully able to immerse myself in a stream-of-consciousness-like mode of observing, composing and exposing. I would say this is also mindlessness, but of a higher order than the one that springs from intellectual laziness.
  

• "relying on a single perspective": people like to cling to a single set of rules. A picture needs to be sharp (and can't be blurry). For some it has to be blurry (and can't be sharp). Schools and academies are moulding students within the confines of a single style or approach. Books and magazines are telling us how seascapes and portraits need to be photographed, and what camera you can use for what purpose. Few people are fluent enough to mix very different approaches and aesthetics. Obviously that is what separates the artist from the emulator.
  

As photographers we would do well to heed Ellen Langer's advice and try to be more mindful about our craft. There have never been better opportunities to learn, but at the same time the 'power of context' (fueled by a media frenzy and a gluttony of images) has never been stronger. Today, it takes discipline to take pause, take a step back and ask tough questions about what we as a photographer are doing. We need to question our choices, we have to refuse to have ourselves pigeonholed as a particular kind of photographer, to anchor ourselves to a particular style. We need to experiment: switch between various formats and technologies, move out of our familiar settings, do whatever makes us uncomfortable and see where it leads us. The result, I'm sure, will be better photographs and more fulfillment.

Ellen J. Langer, 1990, Mindfulness, Da Capo Press, 256pp.

Picture of the day - Waterloo in Winter

Got my negatives developed from the December 30th outing to the Waterloo battle site. I'm afraid there is not a lot that is worth retaining. It's not easy to take good pictures when it is darn cold ...

Moreover, the few images that I selected prove to be very difficult to scan. The greytones come out very muddy. I have no idea why that is. Maybe it's a matter of exposure. It's certainly not the first time that I scan from a roll of Tri-X. I'm quite familiar with this film in terms of scanning. Also there is considerable light fall off with the Heliar 15mm. When taking pictures on snow with a bleak sky this becomes very obvious.

I'm not even sure about the picture I have selected for this post. There is atmosphere, but perhaps not quite enough to turn it into a somewhat distinctive image. Taken with a Leica M4 fitted with a CV Heliar 15/4 on Tri-X at 400 asa.

Picture of the day - Marit

Christmas time is family time. And an opportunity to add some great children snapshots to the album. This is my little niece Marit whilst prowling around the Christmas cake.

Photo taken on Neopan 1600 with the Olympus OM-10 and the Zuiko 55/1.2 (at full opening I believe).

Souvenirs from High Places

I found “Souvenirs from High Places” (Joe Bensen, 1998, The Mountaineers), which is out of print, via a superbly interesting website: abebooks.com. This is an umbrella-site for hundreds of second-hand bookshops all over the world. Predictably it is a veritable treasure trove for the amateur of rare or out-of-print volumes. Of course, also the lover of photographica will find more than his wallet can buy. On a first visit I limited myself to a rare copy of Koudelka’s “Wales-Reconnaissance”, a signed copy of Klett’s “Revealing Territories”, a 1941 folio with mountain photographs from the Himalayas by Vittoria Sella and a monograph on our King Albert I’s climbing activities (“Le Roi Albert Alpiniste”, 1956, by Robert Mallieux). Another book in the shopping basket was this volume on mountaineering photography.

I usually date my infatuation with photography roughly four years back, when I started to take my SLR camera back with me on trips to Ireland and Mongolia. But it is true that long before that I had been taking photographs. However, this was just a corollary to my climbing and trekking activities in the Alps, the Arctic (Iceland, Greenland) and Karakoram. Together with some of climbing partners, I cobbled together primitive slideshows only of interest to the amateur of wilderness activities. With dwindling opportunities to spend time in the mountains (marriage, children, work, etc.) also my interest in photography flagged.

Today I am getting interested again in the discipline of mountain and mountaineering photography. I have a particular kind of photography in mind which leans very much towards the severe, monumental style of the pioneers in the genre such as Vittorio Sella and the early Tairraz brothers. But with a twist of course.

Very few photographers today are taking large format black and white pictures in the mountains today. Essentially that is also the story that is told by “Souvenirs in High Places”. The whole argument of this book can be neatly summarised in a couple of key points: from the mid-18th century onwards, the popularisation of mountain sports was paralleled by a rapid diffusion of the new medium of photography. And as photographers were able to switch from cumbersome plate cameras to portable film-based devices, the attention shifted from the landscape genre to action/sports photography. All this is hardly a revelation. But the author illustrates this points profusely with a wealth of pictures from a variety of sources, which is what makes this volume worth the modest price I paid for it (there are some really interesting bits, such as another version of Bradford Washburn’s “Climbers on the Doldenhorn” than the one we are used to).

Today we see very few black-and-white pictures being taken in the mountains. But there may be faint signs of a little renaissance. Jürgen Winkler’s classic “Aus den Bergen” (originally published in 1993 and awarded with the Prix Mondial du Livre de Montagne) has been reissiued by Bruckmann Verlag (2004). And only a few months ago there was “Celestial Realm”, an imposing monograph dedicated to China’s Yellow Mountains by Wang Wusheng (Abbeville Press, 2005).

There is also very little large format being used in the Greater Ranges. The last practitioners of this arcane art, as far as I know, where men such as Bradford Washburn, Koichiro Ohmori (both, however, focusing on aerial photography) and Shiro Shirahata. A recent book such as “Sulle Vette delle Alpi” by Marco Bianchi (Mondadori, 2004) revives this ancient tradition. However, his colour photographs, although suggestively beautiful and of great documentary interest to the mountaineer, do not probe the deeper mysteries behind the baffling geological phenomena we call mountains.

So, perhaps, back to Vittorio Sella. Anyone interested in his work should read Ansel Adam’s very brief but illuminating introductory essay included in the Aperture monograph that was published a few years ago (see here for my review of this book). It is worth quoting: “Knowing the physical pressures of time and energy attendant on ambitious mountain expeditions, we are amazed by the mood of calmness and perfection pervading all of Sella’s photographs. The exquisitely right moment of exposure, the awareness of the orientation of camera and sun best to reveal the intricacies of the forms of ice and stone, the unmannered viewpoint – these qualities reveal the reverent and intelligent artist. In Sella’s photographs there is no faked grandeur; rather there is understatement, caution, and truthful purpose. The considered compactness of Sella’s compositions is typical of good photography; there is no loose sentimentality or emphasis on obvious pictorial patterns. His compositions may appear severe to many, but his severity is actually the effect of accuracy and truth of mood.”

“Understatement”, “truthful purpose”, “severity”, “accuracy”, “truth of mood”: these are all qualities I find hugely appealing in a mountain photograph. And it is rare to find them all assembled in the same photographer. So, I imagine that I might try to get into Sella’s footsteps (of course, at a much more modest level of artistry and accomplishment): take the 4x5’ or the 8x10’ or exploratory rambles through the Alps. Focus, perhaps, on the dull days where the light bathes everything in a monochrome grey. Try to isolate simple, archetypal forms and frame them in straightforward and strong compositions. Capture the texture of sky, snow, ice, water and rock but don’t get mesmerised by any of these in particular. That is what I would like to do.

Aren’t there any contemporary examples? Yes, there are, and one of them approaches pretty much the ideal I have in mind. My attention was drawn to the work of Swedish photographer Gerry Johansson by an article in Black & White Photography, featuring his large format work (8x10’) produced during a Swedish Antarctic expedition: stark, uncompromising images that capture the majesty of that mineral world exceedingly well. Remarkably enough, this seems to be Johansson only foray in the genre of mountain photography. The other work showcased on his website is much more in an urban-centered reportage and social documentary vein. The other example, perhaps, I have in mind is the work of German photographer Axel Hütte (a pupil of Bernd Becher) who produces bleak, understated landscapes (some of them in a mountaineous setting).

Perhaps a word on the image accompanying this blog entry. It is a picture taken by myself in the early nineties (Olympus OM-10, Zuiko 35/2.8, Ilford HP5). That must have been the only time I have put a B&W roll in my camera before I started to photograph in earnest. I remember that I was hugely disappointed in the pictures at the time, particularly because of the artificial, cardboard-like textures of the rocks. A lot was due, however, to the lacklustre printing in the lab I used back then. I rediscovered the negatives ten years later and now I’m sorry I didn’t take more pictures on that early-summer traverse through the Brenta Dolomites …