Monthly Archives: October 2006

Ralph Gibson – Deus ex Machina

Mass passing as class.

You either like Ralph Gibson’s work or you hate it. The pretentious Latin title is certainly a warning. And you really need the nude on the cover?

I’m OK with it, but anytime you see a book published by Taschen, be assured there will be lots of gratuitous nudity, and this one is no exception.

Gibson does have a strong, identifiable style and that has me coming back to this very thick book time and again. And every time I like it a little more. Or hate it a little less.

Too bad he didn’t exercise more critical editorial judgment when deciding what to publish.

768 pages of Elliot Erwitt I can handle, but 768 pages of Ralph Gibson?

Worth a look, I suppose; Amazon has it.

The Teds

A book by Chris Steele-Perkins.

By the time I was old enough to think or remember, Teddy Boys were a thing of the past in England. These disenchanted youth made their home in the Fifties, affecting a distinct form of clothing – long Edwardian coats with velvet collars – and strangely shaped hair.

‘Teddy Boys’, the collective noun used to describe them, purportedly stems from the association their choice of clothing had with the grandest of British eras, the Edwardian, named after that wanton wastrel, Edward VII. Old ‘Teddy’ had waited most of his life to succeed long-lived Queen Victoria to the throne of England, (like the current monarch she was too wise to the ways of the world – and of her son – to abdicate) amusing himself in the meanwhile by bedding most of Europe’s eligible women and eating and drinking his way through a modest fortune in gustatory delights. Prince Charles should bone up, if you pardon the verb, on his history, lest he continues repeating it.

However, Teddy, short and worthless as his reign was, enjoyed the height of luxury that the British Empire had procured for the country in four centuries of conquest. It was all over by then, of course, but it would take a while, and Queen Victoria’s German relatives, to make sure everyone in England knew that. It was called World War I.

Anyway, the fifties’ Teddy Boys emulated at least some facets of Edwardian dress and proceeded to spoil what little they had going for them with foul hair, dipped in axle grease.

Not a lot to like, then, except that Chris Steele-Perkins’s pictures do a great job of conveying the feel of that era. There’s almost a careless sort of snapshot quality to much of the work here and it seems especially appropriate to what would prove to be a transient fad.

Recommended.

Chavez Ravine, 1949

A fine book of pictures by Don Normark.

Click the picture.

This wonderful book, published in 1999 and available from Amazon, showcases the pictures taken by Don Normark when he stumbled upon a Hispanic area of Los Angeles near what is now Dodger Stadium. Little was he to know that one year later the slums there would be condemned to be replaced by a public housing development. Characterless slums replacing charismatic ones.

Only many years later did Normark realize what he had; he tracked down the former residents of Chavez Ravine and documents their recollections here – a place with vibrant memories illustrated with his superb photographs. That this tightly knit community of Latinos allowed a white boy into their midst is wonder enough. But his photography makes it clear just how blessed his many visits would turn out to be.

Mercifully Normark avoids the trait of most ‘photojournalists’, who somehow think their training in darkroom chemicals qualifies them to be political commentators. In much the same way that Hollywood actors and singers suddenly conclude their fame empowers them to pontificate on geopolitics, once that Oscar is on the mantle or the platinum selling CD is on the wall. Hey, it’s free publicity, no?

None of this sort of nonsense is to be seen here. What you do see is a sensitive, no, more than that, dignified, portrait of a vibrant community of tightly knit people, shortly to be cruelly replaced by a development crafted in a smoke filled room by corrupt politicians and their paymasters, corrupt developers.

This is a very special book which deserves to be on every photographer’s bookself.

Mounting Really Big Prints

Some practical hints.

Every year, a couple of months before Christmas, I invite a few friends to select a couple of prints from a small web presentation, asking that they elect 13″ x 19″ or, now that I have the HP DJ90, 18″ x 24″.

So as this year’s print ‘orders’ came in, I thought it might be instructive to share my technique with readers. Those who see obvious errors are encouraged to set me on the straight and narrow and those contemplating the self-abuse that is print mounting might like to see what they are letting themselves in for.

First, I should point out that I do not accept the apologia proferred by many for ‘hinge mounting’ where a print is held to a backing board with a few pieces of tape at the top in the purported interest of archival permanence. The moment the humidity changes, the print cockles and you have a throw away print. It’s just another excuse to cut corners masquerading as technique. Don’t believe them when they tell you ‘curators insist on this’. Sheer Rot. I have prints which I dry mounted thirty years ago (using a domestic iron, no less), before we knew about acid free this and pH neutral that, and they remain perfect and unfaded. So when people tell you dry mounting is no friend of permanence, look elsewhere.

Key dimensions:

I typically mount both 13″ x 19″ and 18″ x 24″ prints on 22″ x 28″ boards. The HP DJ90 and 130 leave a 1/4″ border top, left (long side) and right (long side), with a bottom border of 9/16″ (short side). For the HP Designjet 90/130, after allowing another 1/8″ for safety,the mat openings are as follows:

  • 13″ x 19″: Opening is 12 3/8″ x 18 1/16″
  • 18″ x 24″: Opening is 17 3/8″ x 23 1/16″

These openings will leave 1/16th of an inch of printed image to work with on all sides, for alignment purposes. Matboard & more will custom cut these for you. Stock mats which come with 12 1/2″ x 18 1/2″ and with 17 1/2″ x 23 1/2″ openings will not work, leaving white borders on the matted print.

Archival issues:

My goal is a print which will outlive me and here’s what is involved:

1 – A printer with fade free inks. The DJ90 uses dyes, others use pigments. Both are great. Most modern ink jet printing inks are fade free. Look for them when making your printer selection. Older designs will fade in as little as a year in bright light.

2 – Cotton gloves. Yes, I do advocate delegating the drudge of routine printing – meaning anything under 8″ x 10″ – but when it comes to show prints I am not about to let the clerk at the framing store, who has just feasted on a Big Mac, cheese and fries, get his hands on my print. Grease is the last thing I need. Not to mention that ten of these will pay for that overpriced Seal press. The cotton gloves are used from the moment the printing paper is removed from the box all the way through final placement of the mounted print in a protective glassine bag for shipping. Cheap insurance.

3 – Acid free mounting board. I use the 3/16″ thickness – it costs little more than the 1/8″ and is more robust.

4 – Acid free mats cut by Redimat. Their machine cutter is incredibly accurate. As Apple’s Aperture leaves a 1/2″ border around the print with the DJ90, my 18″ x 24″ prints get a 16 7/8″ x 22 7/8″ cut out, while the 13″ x 19″ ones use 11 7/8″ x 17 7/8″. That way I have 1/8″ to play with when positioning the print on the mounting board. Color? Anything your heart desires. I mostly use black. Simple. No distractions.

5 – Seal Bienfang RC Colormount tissue. This seals at 185F and is intended for RC paper. Its low sealing temperature is ideal for ink jet prints. Go much over 210F and these start to fry.

6 – A Seal mounting press.

7 – A Seal tacking iron to tack the mounting tissue to the print and the print + tissue to the mounting board.

8 – 3M two-sided adhesive tape to attach the mat to the mounted print.

9 – Release paper for tacking and heating in the press

10 – Bert the Border Terrier to keep me company. These are very hard to find and, in my opinion, essential.

Strict cleanliness throughout this process is key. Any dirt or grit and your print is shot.

The tissue is precut using a sharp knife and a granite counter.

The Seal tacking iron, set just below ‘Med’ and no higher, is warmed up.

Using a small piece of release paper betweeen the mounting tissue and the back of the print, the tissue is tacked to the print – count for 10 seconds – remember those darkroom days? “Elephant One, Elephant Two, Elephant Three….”

Hold the tacked part down for a couple of seconds to cool.

Get one mounting board and one mat – the latter will be used as a positioning template.

Having positioned the print + tissue on the board using the mat (the mounting board and mat must have identical outside dimensions), tack the print to the board, protecting the print with the release paper:

Once more, hold the heated area for a few seconds to ensure a good ‘tack’.

The print is now tacked to the board.

Heat the press to 170F.

Place the print + board in a folded over piece of release paper.

The press must be adjusted so that reasonable hand pressure on the lever closes it. Too much and you will have creases in any print that needs multiple passes. In my press, an 18″ x 24″ print needs four passes. This is where you put the Border Terrier in play.

The red light indicates the press is on, and the orange light to the left will extinguish once the set temperature is reached. Once the orange light goes off you are at the set temperature. I do not bother to preheat the print or board to get rid of moisture as both are stored in a dry, heated home.

Each heating cycle must be for at least 90 seconds – pull out that 60 year old Kodak analog timer, the one you can read from across the room. Overdoing it is not a problem – I sometimes let it run 4-5 minutes while I do something else, but if you are in a hurry, less than 90 seconds is a no-no.

My press makes its home in the wine cellar, but yours does not have to.

Once the heating process is complete, pull out the Scotch 3M double sided tape dispenser. Do not economize by using something cheap.

Place two inch strips in the center of the board on all four sides of the print between the print edge and board edge. Now place the mat on the print, aligned edge to edge, and press down on these four points. The goal is to lightly glue the mat to the board – the framing process will ensure the two stay together.

Do yourself justice – sign the bloody thing. Wilting violets …. wilt. I use a white ink pen from the art store.

Sticking with the cotton gloves, insert the ‘sandwich’ into an acid free, sealable, glassine sleeve for storage and transit.

Stand back and admire your work.

Finally, pray the post office does not bend your prints in transit.

Framing is addressed here.

Aspect ratios

How things change

The addition of the Panasonic Lumix LX-1 to my equipment earlier this year, replacing my rangefinder Leicas, brought with it something new and exciting, over and above the superb overall capability of this pocketable digital camera.

An exceptionally wide image aspect ratio, meaning the ratio of height to width. The Panasonic uses a 16:9 sensor, which is identical to the format of most contemporary movies or, stated differently, 1:1.78.

Looking back over the past century but a handful of aspect ratios have dominated photographic images, or at least in-camera originals. None has been this wide.

Early plate and large format cameras used 3 1/4” x 4 1/4” film or 1:1.31. The 4” x 5” format, 1:1.25, popularized a whole range of printing papers in like ratio – contacts, 8” x 10” , 12” x 15” and 16” x 20”. Until digital came along most photographic prints were made in these ratios, because that’s how the paper was sold and that’s how frame and mat manufacturers made their products. In other words, close to square.

The story has it that when Oscar Barnack, the Leica’s inventor, was ruminating on how best to transition from a hernia-inducing field camera to something pocketable (boy, would he have loved modern digital point-and-shoots or what?) he decided to make the film frame 24mm x 36mm, or 1” x 1.5”, to reduce the grain effect of the movie film stock he had decided to use. A movie frame was a scant 18mm x 24mm and old Oscar decided, rightly, that that was just too small to permit a decent enlargement. So he doubled the size and thus was the famous Leica format born with an aspect ratio of 1:1.5, in contrast to the far squarer 1:1.33 of the movie original.

Of course, his efforts were, for the large part wasted, as printers were stuck in the 1:1.25 rut, so 17% of Barnack’s negative area was thrown away through cropping at the printing stage. Too bad he didn’t elect 24mm x 30mm, thus increasing the number of shots on a roll to 43 from 36, rather than wasting all that film.

Some photographers, most notably Henri Cartier-Bresson, made a fetish out of necessity, insisting that the composition of their originals was so perfect in every way on that long Leica negative that any French printer who would dare even think about cropping the negative would be deported to England, there to suffer a life sentence known as English cuisine. Truth be told, if you look at any book of Cartier-Bresson snaps and hack a bit off the long dimension, the picture loses nothing at all in power. Hey, don’t knock the artifice, it worked for him, no?

Brassai, extroverted Hungarian that he was, threw convention and aspect ratios to the wind and thought nothing of cropping one good picture into two or three even better ones. Viva Brassai!

So Cartier-Bresson’s and Leitz’s predilections notwithstanding, 1:1.25 pretty much ruled the roost for most of the twentieth century. Add television, which adopted much the same ratio for its first fifty years, and you have a critical mass hard to overcome. Shame, really, because it’s a really boring look. Too bad few photographers learned anything from that great nineteenth century beachscape painter Eugene Boudin who though nothing of painting on canvases which were 1:2 or even longer in aspect ratio. He was doing nothing more than using a shape to fit the subject.


Boudin does Boudin

Towards the end of the twentieth century, home ink jet printers became affordable in even fairly large sizes, and for whatever reason someone decided that the carriage would allow a paper width of 13” and someone else came up with a paper length of 19”. That just happens to work out to 1:1.46 so I like to think that inventor was a Leica man or the spirit of a much put-upon French printer had inveigled itself into the design process, because now the loss from a Leica negative was a mere 3%. HC-B could rest in peace, and given that a well printed ink jet print is indistinguishable from a wet process one, everyone was happy. I love the 13” x 19” format, finding it large enough to hang on the wall and long enough to afford the option of keeping everything in those many years of Leica negatives. It has become my default print size, replacing 8″ z 10″ for proofing purposes.

Before we segue to the current millennium it would be unfair to make no mention of the square format, beloved of Rolleiflex and Hasselbald users. Of course they never printed square prints, but take away the decision whether the camera should be held this way or that and you have one less variable interposed in the creative process. So, I suppose, that’s a good thing. Nonetheless, hack it down to 1:1.25 and the 56mm square Hasselblad negative promptly lost 20% of its surface area as the cost of this flexibility, though it was still more than 3 times the effective surface area of the Leica. So, for the most part, printers at Vogue and Harpers Bazaar hacked away, but at least one photographer decided to transmute this limitation and make of it an affectation. That photographer is Michael Kenna, and he resolutely prints most of his work in a square format. I’ll leave it to you to decide about his work, but if 1:1.25 is boring, then 1: 1 is near catatonic when it comes to visual interest.

I’m not sure what possessed Panasonic to adopt the 1:1.78 in the LX-1 (16:9 in common parlance, Europeans and Japanese preferring to put the long side first), but Hollywood had been transitioning to like-format widescreen movies for years and, guess what, Panasonic happens to be a major manufacturer of television sets. Visit your high street big box store today and you will find that more than half the TV sets are 1:1.78 and, making a virtue out of necessity, the ads scream ‘Widescreen’. Five years earlier the only widescreen display you could find was limited to megabucks home theater installations with overhead projectors. ‘Pan and scan’, where movies are chopped or scanned to fit the 1:1.25 or 1:1.33 screen is butchery indeed and a 1:1.78 screen fits the new sets perfectly, at the expense of black bars on older 1:1.33 movies. A good trade. Just try watching Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West on a regular TV and you will wonder why this is considered by many to be the greatest Western ever made; switch to Widescreen and all is clear.

And for me, the widescreen format in the LX-1 is simply a revelation. I’m finding that I have to relearn how I think about pictures, just as I have to when making circular QTVR panoramas. Now I have no idea how to describe the aspect ratio of a QTVR 180 degree x 360 degree panorama, but it sure as hell isn’t 1:Anything!


Pindelski does Boudin

I’m beginning to learn to photograph and print in widescreen and my next order of mats and boards from the wonderful people at Documounts will, you guessed it, have some 18” x 32” and 13” x 23” mat openings. They will cut any size you want, though these custom sizes command a small premium to all that 1:1.25 stuff. More of that later.

For this photographer this seemingly small change in aspect ratio has opened up new vistas indeed.