and I already though Roger Ballen was strange

Early photos by a young Stanley Kubrick

MORE SHOTS

Tatonka

But...But....

I like frame clusters...........

http://fuckyournoguchicoffeetable.tumblr.com/

Progress

I have been back just about 3.5 months now. Progress has been slow but sure as I am through about half of the film I have to process. Free time and the actual energy to get to developing, scanning and printing can be elusive. Art is hard when you have a real life too! If only I had a years worth of pay saved up so I could just go out to the studio every day and work.

A few images that I really like so far.

I'm going to wait till I have everything finished to post them to the project website. This will be a nice way to preview the work.

Shooting Film

Recently Pete Gomena, President of the Portland Photographers Forum, penned a really nice essay for their newsletter about shooting analog vs. digital. It is pretty much in line with what I tell people when they ask why I still shoot film, but perhaps a bit more eloquent. Perhaps I will cary copies of this around to hand to the folks that ask that question.

That Vague Feeling That Something's Missing
by Pete Gomena

Oscar Wilde once said of smoking, "It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?"

I often refer to my little digital camera the "crack cocaine" of photography. It's fast, addictive, easy to use, and ultimately unsatisfying.

Let's be clear: I've been suspicious of digital photography since it swept into commercial studios in the 1990s. My first reaction was to buy an 8x10 camera and start making pinhole pictures. I wanted something primitive, tactile, archaic, esoteric and real. In my workaday world, I learned to use the new technology. Privately, I was threatened by the changes.

I had spent 20 years steeping in the lore of legendary photographers, people with piercing vision, masters of craft who strove to push the limits of their art form. Here, suddenly, was something that threatened to sweep away everything on which I based my creative life. A big portion of my skills suddenly was obsolete.

Now, 15 years later, I own a computer, digital printer, scanner, and, yes, a digital camera. It's all good, but I can't rid myself of the nagging feeling that something is missing. There just used to be more!

My feelings were confirmed in July, when a group of PPF members saw the Ray Metzker "Automagic" show at the Portland Art Museum. Our walking tour of the exhibit was narrated by Julia Dolan, the museum's photography curator, whose talk was wonderfully illuminating of Metzker's work, influences, and craft.

Most of Metzker's images were small, but their impact was enormous. Here were images graphically strong enough to grab your attention from across the gallery. The prints (all silver-gelatin) were perfect little gems that spoke of the anonymity, alienation, isolation and mechanization of city life. Each was laden with dark emotion and a sense of wonder and discovery at the same time.

What I came away with, besides a very real urge to print in a darkroom again, was confirmation of the fact that craft still matters.

We're in a different photographic world today, and the tools for making great images are there if we learn to use them, analog or digital. Which tools we choose to use and the ideas and emotions we want to express are up to each individual, certainly, and you can take your pick of media.

Which brings us back to electronic addiction and the morning-after feeling it gives me.

My little digital camera is a great thing. It's versatile, and it produces good images as long as I keep the prints small. I find it a valuable tool for giving me instant feedback and keeping my photographic "eye" in shape. It's quick, spontaneous, and very portable. It's even kind of fun to use!

What it lacks is the tactile sense that I'm making something. I become a camera operator, and I get the feeling the camera really has done the work. I can only work with what it produces, and work remotely, with keyboard, mouse and computer. I like what comes out of the printer, but it is a thing somehow reduced, a facsimile, vision without craft, unsatisfying.

With film in my camera, I feel like I'm making important choices about how I want an image to look. Latent images on exposed film waiting to be developed hold an element of surprise and uncertainty, potential and mystery, even if they eventually will be scanned and digitally printed. (Right now this is my best option.) I touch the film as I load the developing reels, I choose developer, time, and temperature, I think about what is on the film as it's fixed, washed and hung to dry. I'm more connected to the process.

I use film any time I want to make an image I feel is important to me. It preserves the option of making "real" prints for that uncertain future time when I might have a darkroom again. It gives me a permanent, physical record of what I saw, real raw material as a result of my experience.

This doesn't mean I won't continue to use digital processes. I feel there is no choice. Digital processes are useful tools, they allow me to quickly and easily manipulate images in ways I couldn't possibly do in the darkroom, and they have become the common denominator. (I can't argue about the weight and portability of digital camera gear, either, and I'm not getting any younger.)

That doesn't mean I have to like it. I now think twice about using my digital camera as often because I know when I'm finished, I'll wish I had that shot on film.

Also a nice video I recently came across.