Hello friends, I am proud to share my newest art project with you today. My fascination with photographic images has always run parallel with my love of moving images. To that end, over the past year or so, I have been exploring an archive of public domain movies. I have been photographing the source material, and then manipulating the images, creating a final quadtych. Each moment of the film becomes a departure point for me to apply my own narrative via dialogue subtitles. The aesthetic of foreign cinema, specifically the French New Wave has heavily influenced my creation of this body of work. Each individual card is meant to be a singular piece, but by sharing the set in a unbound manner I invite the viewer to create their own sequence of images. Perhaps a new story will result every time the cards are rearranged. This project is a "cinema of my dreams" and I am happy to share it with you today. Each set is 23 cards, with a bellyband, housed in a DVD case, featuring custom cover art, front and back. Signed and numbered. Cost is $25 plus shipping (US and Canada Only) Click on the button below to go to my online store!
The Allure of the Film Aesthetic
For as long as I have loved photography, there has always been something extra special about film. Not just the process of shooting film, instead, something more elemental. Very simply, I like the “look” of film. I like the frame borders, the sprocket holes, the type and numbers along the edges, the grain, the eventual scratches and fingerprints. The film aesthetic is something I play with in my work. I like to exaggerate the unique characteristics of film, especially pushing grain and contrast beyond the limits of acceptability. As I’ve ventured further away from straight photography, it is the intrinsic visual look of film that keeps me grounded in the medium. I have recently been exposing film in a motion picture camera, then utilizing the multiple frames as an opportunity to tell a different kind of story; short narratives through a sequence of images. I really enjoy making the choice of which frames to highlight from a longer strip of film. This attraction has now led to me sourcing 16mm film reels from Ebay. One reel was in pretty bad shape when it arrived this week. Warped, scratched and moldy; yet intact enough to allow me to play freely with the footage. So much to discover and ponder on this film. The anonymous, family home movie reel shows various locations; most likely highlights of a family vacation. The frames feature men and women in dress that looks like it is from the 1930s or 1940s. I wonder, who are these people? They are surely dead by now. How did this random reel of film travel from its original owner, through years of storage and neglect, to wind up for sale online in 2023, and somehow appearing in front of me under such randomly stumbled upon circumstances? I guess my attraction to the film aesthetic has created yet another divergent path for me to wander down. What discoveries await?
2022: 29 Film Swap / Destruction
Last year I participated in a film swap, sponsored by the great folks at Lomography. They connected film shooters from all over the world to collaborate on a film sharing project (you shoot a roll of film and then send it to the assigned person to shoot the roll again in their camera…double exposures!) Last year’s project was so much fun I decided to throw my hat in the ring again this year.
My roll of film arrived this week from Perth, Australia(!) so I was excited to run it through one of my cameras as soon as the grips of Covid released me from being homebound. After shooting and processing, I noticed the doubles didn’t come out as prominently as expected. The iso rating / underexposure approach didn’t yield clear double exposures. Having been granted permission by my shooting partner, I decided to inflict my (soon to be patented) creative destruction approach to the processed film.
Bleach, flame and dirt was inflicted on the negative strips. I took a fairly haphazard approach to this destruction, not really caring if I went too far with it. The results are very much to my liking and my Aussie friend was pleased as well. Some traditional shooters may cringe at this approach, but I find it liberating to succumb to the happenstance of pouring bleach onto of a strip of film. And one thing is assured, this definitely creates one of a kind images.
2022: 14 Heart of Glass
I have been exploring alternative processes lately in my studio. My path away from digital photography has been quite the journey, taking me through various film stocks, pinhole cameras, instant film, encaustics… and most recently, cyanotypes. Hand coating paper with light sensitive chemicals is another world of challenge and experimentation. One thing I learned very quickly was the benefit of using a larger negative to create cyanotype prints. Yes, collaged 35mm negatives can work, in their own way, but nothing beats a 4 x 5 negative (or something even larger.)
With this in mind, I have begun to purchase old, glass negatives from eBay. There is a whole world of decades-old imagery out there, just waiting to be rediscovered. Sometimes the image might be so unique that it commands exorbitant prices; I generally stay away from those sellers. I found a good source of “lots” of negatives this week. reasonably priced, but in varying degrees of quality and condition. Still, there are a few gems in the stack of negatives that arrived in my mailbox.
The image above is a prime example. I’m not sure how old the negative is, but it looks like it is early 1900s for sure. It also looks like it might not be in the United States. The appearance of the wall behind the costumed man looks Mediterranean, or possibly Latin or South American. The outfit the man is wearing could be a costume, or could be a cultural outfit…again, I have no clue.
However, my favorite part of this photograph is the obvious shadow of the photographer. What is often considered an amateur mistake is, in this case, a special tribute to those of us who wield a camera, documenting our family and friends, with no desire for fame or glory or recognition. As young photographers, we are taught how to avoid harsh shadows, and most certainly our own shadow creeping inside of our pictures. There are exceptions to this rule, of course.. Lee Friedlander is a prime example of photographing one’s own shadow. This glass negative does not seem to intentionally include the shadow of the photographer.
Nonetheless, I find it charming to see the presence of the artist in the picture. I wonder who these people are, where this picture was made, and about the fact that they are dead and gone now. I wonder if they are remembered fondly by a handful of family members, or if my discovery of a long lost negative brings some kind of cosmic attention to people whose legacy was lost to time. And I think about the photographer him (or her) self, and the tangential connection we now share.
2021:50 Koudelka Shooting Holy Land
There is no shortage of videos on YouTube that feature photographers out in the world, taking pictures. Many…too many… feature young, hipsters shooting film. These videos are one of the reasons that the aftermarket for old, analogue cameras has exploded over the past few years. What was once old equipment that no one wanted is now commanding ridiculous prices on Ebay. If there is a new YouTube video released featuring an up-until-then obscure camera, the price immediately starts creeping up. But the curmudgeon in me has to also tip my hat to these neophytes, since they are truly the ones keeping film photography off of life support.
I prefer my vicarious photo shooting viewing to be centered on masters of the medium. There is one film in particular that I’ve been wanting to see for some time. The movie is called Koudelka Shooting Holy Land. I’ve been waiting to see if it would pop up somewhere for free, but alas, I finally caved and dropped 10 bucks to stream it at home. Was it worth it? Absolutely. It is an often quiet meditation on the challenges of finding inspiring subject matter, and approaching it with a critical, yet compassionate eye. Koudelka shot the areas in Israel that are the meeting points between Palestinian lands and Jewish settlements. The photos resulted in an amazing book from a few years back that I’ve written about previously, titled Wall. It was a joy to watch him wander through environments that at one turn were mundane, and at another, quite tense. Koudelka navigates it all with a world weary resignation that I found charming and inspiring.
Some of the most compelling moments in the film occur when Koudelka navigates the hyper-security measures in place at border crossings and checkpoints. For a photographer who first came to prominence documenting the Soviet invasion of his native Czechoslovakia in 1968, he is no stranger to working in challenging situations. Yet most of Koudelka’s interactions with the authorities amount to mostly gruff but docile harassment from military people who are more concerned with threats of violence and not an old man with a panoramic camera. Still, hearing a voice shout from a watchtower as he sets up a few of his shots is enough to give me concern for his safety. Yet Koudelka slowly, deliberately continues his work, unfazed and unintimidated by the powers that keep watch over a complicated mix of politics and differences in faith, all while adding to the tension and division that the photographer himself is quietly, critically assessing. If you get the chance, spend the 10 dollars and watch a master at work.
Polaroid Negative / Positive selfie (shot 6 years ago in Portugal)
2021: 46 Reclaiming Polaroid Negatives
I tinker. I putz. I dabble. I guess I need to keep my mind and my hands busy, otherwise the dark clouds can form. Enough said. I used to shoot quite a bit with my great Polaroid 360 camera. A glass lens, manual focus, Zeiss viewfinder, accordion bellows beast. I was inspired by the work done by Patti Smith, and back in the day, Fuji peel-apart film was cheap (like 10 bucks a box cheap.) Well, take a stroll over to eBay and you know those days are long gone, and Fuji isn’t even making the film anymore. So with a bare film shelf in my fridge, I had to put my 360 to rest.
I did have the forethought to keep the negative backing from some of my peel apart photos. Most folks would throw that part away, keeping only the nicely colored, long-lasting positive image. However, they didn’t realize that there was a salvageable “negative” buried beneath the backing paper and black, chemical coating. You can “reclaim” these negatives with a simple process using cling bleach and warm water. I went down the rabbit hole this week (tinkering, putzing) and reclaimed a bunch of old negatives…some shot over 6 years ago. I figured I’d share the process, in case anyone with deep pockets is still buying and shooting the Fuji dead stock and wants to get more mileage out of the film.
STEP ONE: Grab the left over backing paper from a recently (or not so recently) exposed sheet of Fuji peel-apart film. There are two sides, the one with the matte, black coating is the side you want to work with. Remove excess paper around the edges, if you so desire.
STEP TWO: In a sink, place sheet face down on a flat surface. I used a small developing tray.
STEP THREE: Using toilet cleaner bleach (the kind that is in gel form is really the best way to go, since it doesn’t run all over the place.)
STEP FOUR: let it sit for about 30 secs to a minute.
STEP FIVE: Rinse carefully with water. You’ll see chunks of black goo pulling off the negative. This is what you want to happen. Rinse until no more black chunks are visible, water runs clear.
STEP SIX: Flip the negative over and rinse under warm (to hot) water, gently rubbing the surface with your fingers. try not to scratch, but even if you do, it’ll probably look cool. This step takes off any binding goo, but please note: you do not want to use bleach on this side.
STEP SEVEN: hang to dry
You’ll see a discolored negative image of the original photo, which you can take a photo of (or scan) and then invert in Photoshop, or the app of your choice. Do some adjustments to your liking…and voila! You have a cool, one of a kind, image. Rescued from oblivion, or at least the garbage dump. The fun thing about this process is you end up getting odd color shifts, surface textures, and rough edges that an Instagram dweeb would pee themselves over. I personally really like the look of scratches and emulsion distress.
Give it a try if you have some of this film lying around. In the meantime, I will write an angry crank letter to Fuji Corp. to beg them to manufacture this film again. Maybe if all the analogue folks out there do the same, we can drag these wonderful old cameras out of storage and shoot one of a kind (or two of a kind?) photos once again.
The final image, inverted and tweaked in Photoshop! Check out the janky, amazing frame.
2021:5 | Thoughts on Béla Tarr: Endurance and Control
NOTE: This week I’m departing somewhat from my usual “still photography” focussed writing. I have visual interests beyond that, so why not share my thoughts on other topics from time to time?
Though I am primarily a still photographer, I love cinema. Or should I say “Cinema” with a capital “C.” Yes, I enjoy movies as much as the next person, and with the extended time spent at home, I’ve made my way through hundreds of hours of viewing via Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, as well as numerous DVDs. Much of it has been mindless escapism, soothingly watching peculiar British people baking Jammy Dodgers and Battenbergs. Supplementally, I’ve been challenging my eyes and my mind with great works by Welles, Godard, Varda, Fellini and many other masters of film. And even those of you who may be familiar with the more esoteric or challenging films out there, I will wager that nothing can fully prepare you for the work of Hungarian filmmaker Béla Tarr. What follows is not a critique of his work from a purely cinematic standpoint, nor do known enough about the man personally to opine on his life, motivations or ideas. Yet, as a somewhat visually astute artist, I hope my thoughts will intrigue you enough to give his films a try.
A scene from Béla Tarr’s “The Turn Horse.” Pass the salt, please.
My first experience with Tarr was maybe 5 or 6 years ago, when I watched “The Turin Horse” in a nearly empty theater on the campus of the University of New Mexico. I knew little about the film going in, except that it was a long, black and white, foreign film. I had know idea the ferocity of the experience to come. And I use that word specifically to describe the opening visuals of the film, an extremely long shot of a horse drawn carriage struggling through a near blinding wind storm. The wind storm remained present throughout the entire film, and was relentlessly weighing the existential dread conveyed in the quite simple story. A disabled farmer and his daughter struggle to live through what can only be described as the end of the world. As with most of Tarr’s work, the film is built of a few dozen extremely long takes, spread out over 2 hours and 26 minutes. It is an exercise in extreme control; not only of the filmmakers craft and storytelling, but control over the viewers themselves. You watch the film and you are at the complete mercy of Tarr. He will not cut away from a shot until he is good and ready, and for the contemporary viewer that is used to the frenetic jump cuts of everyday media, this approach is a combination of masochism and salvation. If you can sit through the numerous scenes of the family eating their potatoes, you are ready for anything.
A scene from Béla Tarr’s “The Man From London”
I have had the pleasure of seeing two other films by Tarr. “The Man From London” is probably the easiest for the uninitiated viewer to stomach. The story is quite simple, and the pacing is as slow as ever, but it rewards in a series of images that felt (to me) as still photographs come to life. In stark black and white, night scenes along a waterfront are an intoxicating display of texture. Again, Tarr doesn’t let the viewer off the hook; you must stare out of the dark, frosty window far as long as he says so. You are blinded by the white light of day of opened window shutters. You gaze at a bar scene of locals dancing to the sad songs from an accordion. And if you allow yourself, you remain riveted the entire time.
A scene from Béla Tarr’s “Werckmeister Harmonies.” A matter of life and death.
The most jarring of the films I’ve seen by Tarr has got to be “The Werckmiester Harmonies.” I won’t even begin to tell the plot, except to say that this film satisfied my existential dread more than the other two films mentioned here. There is particular scene where the main character studies the eyeball of a dead whale that I find almost tear inducing. Truly looking into the abyss. The film also contains a sequence of such ruthless violence that I still shudder when I consider it. However, I hope this does not dissuade you from giving it the time and viewing it truly deserves. It will change your perspective. As Tarr himself has said: “If someone watches it in a dark room, and after the lights go on that person feels they have more dignity, then we have done our job.”
A scene from Béla Tarr’s “Sátántangó.”
I’m excited that there are still a handful of Béla Tarr films I have not seen. I am working up the stamina to sit down at watch “Sátántangó,” a film that clocks in at over seven hours in running time. It will no doubt test the endurance of even the most devoted fanboys, such as myself. Yet, I am convinced the rewards will be well worth the effort.