Wista-pon a Star

Shortly after the Wista arrived a camp-out with the extended family provided the perfect opportunity to try it out. I wondered if everyone would be worried that I just up and disappeared at 5am. It turns out no one had the slightest doubt about why I had left or what I was doing. 

It was probably a foregone conclusion that once I started getting my feet wet in the world of large format again it wouldn't be long before the floodgates opened. Just when it seemed the old 4x5 press camera that had been waiting patiently on a shelf for decades might finally be put back into regular service, in a flash it's been usurped. Though it remains a capable instrument, limitations such as it's inability to accommodate larger lenses and the nearly impossible to find lens boards it takes make it a poor foundation for a photographic system. An upgrade at some point in the future seemed inevitable and so when the time came to seek out some wide angle glass the fledgling 4x5 arsenal there didn't seem much sense in trying to make it work with the old camera.

Retro Chic

Weeks were spent researching the possibilities, combing the online auction sites and making the occasional near miss auction bids. At one point I came close to justifying the purchase of a new Chamonix F1 to myself, but blowing the whole budget on a camera with nothing left over for lenses rather defeated the purpose. It wasn't long after coming to my senses that I stumbled upon the used Wista 45SP in the APUG classifieds. It's not often I have to specify that a film camera I found for sale was used, but the 45SP is different. First introduced in 1972 the well heeled consumer can to this day purchase one new with all the innovations Wista has introduced over 40+ years (consisting entirely of replacing the date faux wood panels with black leatherette) for a mere five large, body only. Fortunately examples with a bit more experience can be had for significantly less. The one I found was adorned with the original wood grain vinyl - think 1975 station wagon - which I henceforth decree are retro chic. The seller was asking about the going rate for a similar camera on ebay but this one came with a few extras and I felt better buying from someone who had owned and used the camera.

Better yet, having spent well under half of what the Chamonix I had been eyeing up would have cost I still had a good chunk of budget to work with and it wasn't long before I found a very nice 75mm Nikkor SW to fit the bill. On a 4x5 camera a 75mm lens is roughly equivalent to a 21mm lens on a 35mm camera. That's about as wide as any lens I've ever owned and as wide a lens as I could see myself using regularly, at least with a standard aspect ratio. (Panoramic work would be another story.) I had been thinking of getting a 90mm lens after the 150 Symmar-S I already had, but the extra I mentioned that came with the Wista was a servicable, if not entirely practical, 90mm f/12.5 Wollensak. It's nearly impossible to focus with in anything short of the blazing mid-day sun, but it did mean I had the 90mm focal length covered, at least in a pinch, and the Nikkor seemed too good to pass up.

In the field, the Wista 45SP sporting a new (to me) 75mm f/4.5 Nikkor SW and, above, the result obtained.

Being sturdier and more capable than my old Busch press camera the Wista, not surprisingly, is a good deal more daunting a piece of cargo to deal with when heading out to the field. Significantly more compact than the monorail type 4x5's that are normally thought of as studio cameras, the Wista's ability to fold up into a neat little box the size of a lunch pail never the less doesn't make it any lighter. In contrast to the press camera's 135mm Wollensak lens, I have found that, reasonably sized as it is, the 150mm Symmar-S is still to large to remain on the camera when it is folded up forcing me to remove it and carry it separately. This is one reason the 4x5 kit, with a full set of film holders, light meter, filters etc. is rapidly growing to fill my large photo backpack, the one alternately used fot the Mamiya RB67 and its retinue of lenses and other attachments.

In the past few outings with it I have seen fit to also through the smaller backpack containing my Bronica outfit. I suppose time will tell what sort of balance gets struck between medium and large format but there are times and situations where I still need the Bronica's capabilities, be that rapid deployment, hand holdability or good old centre of gravity considerations. It's easy enough to throw both in the trunk and let the situation dictate which pack to grab when I get out there. I may find carrying the 4x5 just isn't worth it much of the time and that most of my work is still done with medium format. Then again my love of the big negative could just win out. Who knows, this time next year I could be fawning over a new 8x10 camera.

Ready to travel: Inside the trunk of my car with the Bronica kit (left) the
growing large format ensemble (right), and my trust old Manfrotto (lower).

One Subject, Many Approaches

A recent image of this old concrete relic I have photographed so many times before. Though it's really what's left of a
century old amusement park ride, here it seems to take on the feel of a forgotten ancient temple.

You may recall that last week one of the images featured, the crumbling "legs" of a concrete structure along the Lake Erie shore, was yet one more image of a subject I have photographed many times before. It's in fact just one of several features of potential photographic interest along that local stretch of lake shore I've mentioned here so many times before. Useful as it is as a place I know there will be a few images to be made if I'm testing a new lens or camera, or when I just don't have the time to go looking for images further afield, the decision to head down there has long been accompanied by the sense of going for the same old same old, the photographic equivalent of having no better idea than to order takeout pizza again. Yet as often as I have revisited the place and as much as it seems I must have completely exhausted that crumbling heap of concrete as a photographic subject, I find myself surprised again and again when a new way of approaching this humble subject presents itself even when, sure I have all the images that old thing could ever warrant, I'm not really looking for it.

First of all they may be those of you wondering just what this concrete monstrosity is. To get to that though a bit of the history of that whole stretch of beach is in order. Currently known simply as Erie Beach Park, or occasionally as Waverly Beach to Fort Erie locals, the area was from the latter part of the 19th Century to around the start of the Great Depression the Erie Beach Amusement Park. The area included rides, a casino, dance hall, roller skating rink and of course swimming areas, drawing many visitors from the United States via a ferry boat that brought them in from Buffalo NY. It was superseded by the Crystal Beach Amusement park about 10 kilometres further west to which some of the attractions were moved, while what remained was left abandoned. In recent years there has been a restoration of sorts. The crumbling path of the old promenade has been revamped as part of the Friendship Trail project running parallel to the Lake Erie shore linking my home town of Port Colborne Ontario to Fort Erie where I currently live. Included in the revamping are a series of information panels that detail the beach's former glory and go some way to explaining the mysterious concrete remnants that are visible along the shore.

Information panels on the walkway overlooking what remains of the old
amusement park now provide context for the curious on the various ancient
concrete edifices strewn along the shore. 

This brings us to the structure in question. This platform, supported by four outer legs plus a central column is the central support for something I have only ever heard described as "the swing ride". There are several photographs of what this looked like back in its day, perhaps none more telling in terms of what you'll find there today as one of the images from the info panels from the walkway overlooking the beach.

From this image it's clear not only what the function of the structure as it appears today was, but also the original purpose of all the toppled concrete columns that are strewn about the surrounding area.  According to the panel this image was from the 1914 Shredded Wheat annual outing, 101 years ago nearly to the day. It also appears that water levels were dramatically lower in Lake Erie a century ago. The remains of many of the other features in this photograph are still visible today including the foundation of the fun house tower on the left and the old pier walkway in the background.

Though I've lived in Fort Erie for the past 18 years or so, and only grew up just a 20 minute drive up the Lake Erie shore, I really only discovered this structure for myself less than ten years ago. Though I had no idea what it was at the time the photographic possibilities it suggested were obvious enough right from the start, and I'm certainly not the first to think so. Over most of those years I thought of this as a subject I had already covered, no need to return to it again. Somehow I always found a reason to. Ansel famously revisited subjects like Half Dome many times and we are all the richer for it. Apparently he saw value in returning to the same subject time and again. Maybe I should relax a little and see what more I can make of this. It may be difficult to tell by the roughly chronological sequence of images I present below but the structure is crumbling year by year and it may not be long before someone declares it unsafe and it gets pulled down for good. I'd hate to realize then that there were other ways to approach it.

For completeness sake I'll start with one from back in my digital days. All HDR'd
up I remember being quite proud of it at the time. I dialed the colour saturation
back some and made the contrast a bit more realistic to make it presentable here. 

Even in my digital era film was still part of my repertoire. This is image is even
older than the one above, but shot on 35mm Kodak HIE infrared film. I thought
this film was long gone but recently found a roll at the bottom of the freezer.  

In silhouette with the old pier and the Buffalo skyline in the distance.

My favourite image from a long expired roll of Vericolor.

Under a November sky, the clouds of autumn seem somehow different
than at any other time of year.

Taken just this past winter when I was drawn to the beach by some mysterious
looking clouds, here it appears as though transported to a whole other landscape.

Feet First 4x5

In our last episode I managed to find a plan to shoe-horn large format darkroom capability back into my life without too much disruption to the rest of the household. There's still a bit of work to be done on that front, getting the door fully light sealed and whatnot. It could have been done some time ago but after years of staring at 4x5 camera equipment there seemed little point in using I couldn't put off the urge to get shooting with it any longer. That situation only became more acute when I managed to pick up a 150mm Schneider Symmar-S lens for just under $150 US.

You may recall the post "Success at the Tinker Table" in which I detailed the unlikely triumph of my efforts to get the shutter to my 135mm Wollensak Raptar working again. That was fine for what I intended at the time, but now that large format may begin representing a significant portion of my work again some serious glass is called for. I have fond recollections of the 210mm Symmar-S I owned back in photography school. Whatever else I may have achieved photographically in the intervening years the most luscious prints I have ever made are from negatives made through that lens. Of course the more regular darkroom practice and toned fibre based prints I was making back then may also have contributed, but to me there is no doubt that the Schneider was the best I've ever owned. When finally some eighteen years ago changing life circumstances forced me to admit there was faint hope I'd ever have much occasion to use it again I regretfully sold it. While the Symmar-S series has been superseded in the Schneider line by Apo-Symmars and Super-Symars, it feels like a small, reassuring sort of home coming to see the name back in my photo backpack. 

The images here are from a quick little shakedown outing in the field. It was a simple jaunt out to the stretch of beach I've shown you images from countless times before, but as so often happens things were just a little different than they've ever been before. The inukshuks were the first surprise. Some ambitious individual or individuals had built half a dozen of these structures within about a thirty metre radius along the beach. The shot at the top was of the only one of these that both allowed me enough room to shoot and didn't have some horribly distracting element in the background. It was was just good fortune that I decided to go out that day as when I returned the next day hoping to get additional compositions using the greater selection of lenses I have with the Bronica outfit someone had toppled all but one of these.

The other surprise was the water level. While images of the Great Lakes can appear effectively ocean-like, they lack a proper tide.and the photographic variations that may present themselves as they go in and out. That said wind and weather do combine to alter water levels, and while in my experience it seems as though on average the shoreline has on average been creeping back a bit year to year, this year it has surged forward so that sections of beach I used to walk accompanied by shore birds have been reclaimed by fish. Though it's been a few years since I told myself I had photographed the concrete structure in the above image to death I keep finding new ways, and on this day I saw it for the first time in my own memory not as something 10 metres or more from the water, but as something coming out of the water. It was evening and light levels were getting low enough that combining the light lost through a red contrast filter with a small aperture setting allowed a 15 second exposure, enough to get a nice blur effect with the water to contrast the rough surface of the disintegrating concrete.

While I imagined my lack of a scanner that's built to handle large format negatives would bring the forced discipline that at the very least would compel me to make contact prints I must confess that I've become fairly proficient at scanning both halves of a 4x5 negative and stitching them together with software. While it feels like cheating it has brought a few issues to light. One is that the traditional 4x5 hangers I have been using to develop the negatives have resulted in a few issues that need to be dealt with. The first is that I have gotten some rather nasty scratches that appear to have resulted from the sharp corners of one of the metal hangers contacting the surface of the negative in one of the other hanger during processing. It's difficult, especially in the dark, to keep all the hangers together as a group when agitating or transferring to another tank and I assume this the problem. Another is that on some images I've seen density streaks, similar to those sometimes seen with 35mm film that line up with the sprocket holes, except these seem to match up with the holes in the sides of the film hangers that exist to let the chemistry drain away. If I don't find a solution I'll probably abandon the hangers and get myself a MOD54 unit and process in my disused Paterson tank, with the added benefit of being able to keep the lights on through most of the process. I'm sure there are many more lessons to come as well. In a way it's part of what keeps us all going.