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.

Large Format Once More

  I recall seeing the little room off the dining room for the first time while touring the house where I have lived for the past fifteen plus years with the real estate agent. At the time it evidently served as a sort of basic man cave. Lacking the bay window sized video screen one might associate with the more ideal sort of man cave it never the had been designed to be a place where one would want to go to take a load off at the end of a day, a Three Stooges poster on the wall dispelling any notion that this was the domain of the lady of the house. On taking ownership this became a sort of junk room, a place to put things there seemed no other place for a few years, but when I started a small photography out of the house and needed a base of operations this room was cleared out and spruced up, whereupon it became know as "The Office". Though it retained that title years after I moved on to other things professionally its role had, in reality, reverted to the same sort of man cave it was the first time I saw it, excepting for the general character of the images hanging on the wall. 

When I started giving serious thought to setting up a darkroom in which I could finally do real enlargements again I considered a few possibilities - there's the dungeon-like basement but it's far too dank, an attic but it's like a sauna in summer, and so it was that I settled on the little bathroom off the kitchen. My working space would be the area over the bathtub (that no on had used as a bathtub since we moved in). I figured I could use the tub below for print and negative washing though in practice this has become storage for larger items there seems no alternative for.. The Durst enlarger I picked up from a local ad was just about the best compromise I could come up with - as large as I could possibly make work though it does make things cramped, and though 6x6 is supposed to be its maximum it can just barely handle negatives from the RB67 with the custom carrier I made if I don\t mind losing just a smidge off the sides. With the enlarger and timer in place there's just enough room to the sides for three 8x10 trays though this is cramped at best, especially as there are a growing number of chemistry bottles competing for the space that have no other home. It can all be made to work, but it's not pleasant which to be frank is a major reason I haven't done as much printing as I had hoped by this point. 

The office never got considered in any of this because... well, it was the office. Not only that but the design of the room didn't lend itself to darkroom use, built in work surfaces were too narrow for enlargers, there is no ready access to plumbing and as if that weren't enough it had a louvred door. I would just have to find a way to make do with the space I had, perhaps by finding a way to stack trays or putting in extra shelves somewhere. 

Then came the day I stumbled across a local Kijiji ad for a well seasoned but perfectly functional Beseler 4x5 enlarger along with an array of film carriers and lenses at an affordable price. Aside from having to put up with the cramped quarters, the idea of accepting my lot and making the best of things with my tiny makeshift darkroom came with another cost - it meant that getting back to large format photography would forever be an impracticality for me. Sure my 8x10 pinhole camera should be workable since contact prints would be as large as the biggest enlargements I could do anyway, but that's a bit of a sideline for me. Meanwhile I had 4x5 equipment languishing on the shelf - a working camera and a lens which, thanks to an unexpectedly successful DIY repair once again had a working shutter, along with a full compliment of 4x5 film holders. Now here was this ad to remind me of that whole region of the photographic world, one I used to enjoy, that I was for all practical purposes excluded from for the foreseeable future. 

Then I began to think. Was there a way to section off a part of the basement that could be kept dry, clean and dark? (Answer- not without great effort... and even then.) What about a window mounted air conditioner to keep the attic cool? (Answer- not without a significant increase to my carbon footprint and electric bill.) Could I encourage my teenage son to get a place of his own so I could use his room? (Answer- legally, not for a few more years.) A week went by without a definite answer coming to me, but I could stand it no more and finally I called about the Beseler.

Too late it seemed. The seller informed me that someone had called from out of province expressing an interest. They would be through town in a couple of weeks and the seller had agreed to hold it for them. I left my contact information with them in case their potential buyer didn't go for it. I suppose I could have just shrugged it off and continued with the status quo but the seed had been sown. Maybe it would take a while but it was now set I was going to get back to large format in the darkroom.

Now if you've been following along for a while you might be asking yourself what the big deal is. After all, I must seem positively giddy at times over the medium format kit I own so why not stick with that? The truth is it's not so much the format, meaning the actual physical dimensions of the negatives, that is the big attraction for me. Don't get me wrong, I'll take the bigger negs thank ye very much, but it's really the cameras themselves that are the attraction. Like their smaller 35mm cousins, medium format cameras such as the Mamiyas and Bronicas I have are hard bodied cameras, essentially consisting of a rigid box with a lens attached to the front and film in the back so that film and lens are permanently held square on to each other. With the typical large format camera film and lens are separated by bellows which, due to their flexible nature, permits the two to be shifted and tilted with respect to each other. The whys and where-to-fores of all of this go beyond what I'm willing to delve into today, but in the end this gives the photographer controls that can be used to manipulate perspective and the plane of focus.

One example of a time I really wish I had this kind of control was when I took this shot...

This was taken with a Mamiya RB67 and to be fair it's one of my most successful images from last winter. Scale is a bit ambiguous here and I suppose one could imagine reaching that hill would require an ambitious hike but in truth I could have cleared it and then some by throwing a snowball. The nearest of those windblown dune features then is less than a metre away from the lens. Luckily the lens I used stopped all the way down to f/45 because I needed all the depth of field I could get and the foreground is still not as crisply sharp as I would have liked. That's because with a rigid bodied camera critically sharp focus occurs at a fixed distance from the lens. Imagine everything at that distance forming an imaginary wall, and this wall becomes the plane of focus. A 4x5 camera with even the most basic movements would have allowed me instead to tilt the lens and alter this plane of focus to match the lay of the land rather than that imaginary wall fixed at a certain distance from the lens. I could have stopped down less (stopping down too much actually results in less sharpness due to diffraction effects which is why selecting a middle of the road aperture setting is usually ideal) and achieved better sharpness in the foreground than what I got. 

My bedroom/darkroom circa 1993

Back to our story though it was long about this point when it occurred to me that the office was a viable alternative to the unworkable ideas I had been mulling around with. The idea wouldn't be, at least for the time being, to turn it into a complete darkroom. What I had in mind rather was returning to an idea I had used for my first bachelor pad darkroom, a separate dry room and wet room. Back then I fully blacked out the window of my bedroom (the dry room) where the ancient 4x5 enlarger I owned at the time was permanently set up. There prints were exposed, placed into a dark bag so they could be transferred to the windowless bathroom (the wet room) to be developed in trays. Not ideal to be sure but far superior to my current situation. Converting the office as the dry room and the current darkroom as only a wet room would not only allow me to devote the whole space to develop prints, it would also give me the extra storage space to clear out the bathtub underneath and use it as intended. The whole thing could be a go if I could just get my hands on the enlarger I needed.

I imagined I might have to wait some time before another suitable enlarger became available locally but even finding a bargain online could quickly turn into an expensive proposition when it came time to pay shipping on something as bulky as a 4x5 enlarger, but my luck took a turn for the better when the owner of the Beseler contacted me to say the other buyer was no longer interested. The next evening I was bringing it home. It now sits in its own space in the (former) office where it could be used as is though I'll probably need to build a proper stand for it. Today I blacked out the window and I'm about three quarters of the way to completing the installation of a solid door. I have a little way to go yet but no sense waiting, there are fresh exposures sitting in film holders even as I write, waiting to be developed.

My Bellami

Since before the age of the ubiquitous camera phone I have considered it ideal that there never be a time that a camera wasn't within easy reach. A rare opportunity can unexpectedly present itself even when running the most mundane errand. Long held as that notion may be however, finding the camera to serve in that role to my full satisfaction has eluded me for decades. Wile I won't deny the aforementioned camera phones these days can do a surprisingly good job for what they are, at least in full daylight, they are still an option of last resort for me. I can't help thinking I'd feel awfully let down if a once in a lifetime image did present itself to me and all I had for it was the image capture device that inspired the selfie stick. More to the point, I don't even own one really. My cost/benefit table for mobile phones still adds up on the side of not getting one (and only some of those costs are measured in dollars.) Finally, as future episodes will make clear, my workflow is moving further from anything that could easily accommodate the occasional digital image in the mix anyway.

If you've been following for a while you might remember the past episode Medium Format To Go where I discussed using my Iskra folding rangefinder camera as a possible way to have my long sought after take everywhere camera. Back then I had the lovely notion that as the camera tucked away easily into an ordinary backpack I could simply begin taking the backpack I already used to cart lunch and other essentials back and forth to work each day everywhere I went, much like carrying a purse only in a more socially acceptable form for a man in the particular time and place where I live. Socially acceptable to carry perhaps but still a bit strange a thing to carry along for no apparent reason when visiting friends and family, and on one occasion deemed too threatening a thing for a customer to carry with them in a supermarket although at least half the customers seemed to be carrying purses, some large enough to easily accommodate a medium sized pot roast without looking suspiciously full, gaping wide open in the toddler seat of their shopping carts. If I were the sort to make a scene I'm sure I would have. I was sorely tempted as it was. In the end though it was one more strike against the notion of being able to carry that camera everywhere. I do still carry it a lot of places, it's just not the always at hand camera I hoped it would be.

The obvious answer was to look for an ultra-compact 35mm camera. There are some capable models out there that give full size 24x36mm negatives in a package that can be downright pocketable. The problem is that most of the cameras that would have fit the bill are models that would be lumped into the point-and-shoot category. When I was in photo retail in the 80's and 90's and these cameras were in their heyday there were enough lacklustre performers in this category that the term point-and-shoot became shorthand for a camera I just couldn't get excited about. I had become, to put it bluntly, too much of a snob to consider such a camera.

Giving credit where do I have to say it was endless hours listening to The Film Photography Podcast that got me off my high horse, gradually instilling in me a respect for even the humblest of cameras. If people are out there making great images with plastic cameras then who am I to overlook a potentially great little point-and-shoot. And whatever I thought of the category as a whole, there are some great little point-and-shoots out there. Better still, some of the greatest are also some of the littlest. Part of the reason for this is that the smallest cameras don't have zoom lenses. It's hard enough to design a zoom to match the performance of a single focal length lens, but add to this the requirements of keeping everything compact as well as keeping costs reasonable and what you typically get is... meh.

There are, as I was vaguely aware, some truly compact cameras out there that have earned outstanding reputations that those more prone to exaggeration than I often characterize as cult status. Smallest of the bunch, the Minox 35 series certainly has its adorers, though a bit of research revealed they also have a reputation for electronics failures that can render the camera useless. Rollei also made tiny manual 35mm, but these could also be rather pricey. Highest on my list were a pair of Olympus models, the XA or the later Stylus Epic that took its place. Both are sought after models on the used market, bringing their value well above the yard sale prices nearly any other semi-vintage point-and-shoot sells for these days, but still within reason for someone willing to pay for a good little performer.

A shot from my iPad illustrating 1) my Chinon Bellami and 2) why

 I would chose to use it in favour of my iPad's built in camera.

It seemed the only question was whether, when this post eventually appeared, it would be about the older XA or the more recent Stylus Epic. The reason it isn't either is that a bit of frustration set in after a few of what I thought were generous online auction bids failed to take bring home the prize a bit of frustration began to set in. All the while I started doing a little research on a similar camera I found that could be had by the first person willing to pony up about a third of what my failed Olympus bids had been. It was a Chinon Bellami, similar in size to the Olympus's (Olympi?) that were eluding me it boasted a coated 4 elements in 3 groups lens (Tessar type) lens that the few reviewers I was able to find online for this cameras thought rather highly of. I knew Chinon as the maker of a nice little SLR similar to Pentax's K1000 (and also capable of accepting the same Pentax K-mount lenses) with similar quality despite the lower price the low-profile Chinons commanded on the market at the time. The little Bellami seemed to be a similar case. Well built with a metal chassis and a clever tucked away lens that springs open to use from behind its protective barn-doors cover it seemed a fair bet this little camera from the reputable but unheralded manufacturer could be a diamond in the rough.

Like the Olympus XA the Chinon Bellami was sold with a detachable dedicated flash of a type which, over the years often get separated from their companion camera, but with the camera I bought they were still a pair. For the most part I leave the flash at home to keep things small but it's easy to re-attach if I think I'll be doing any shooting indoors or into the dusk. It has a 35mm f/2.8 lens, matching the more sought after members of its class. Exposure is completely automated with a red-light warning in the viewfinder to let you know if low light levels make it necessary to select a shutter speed below 1/60th of a second.

The only real downside in my estimation is that, lacking the Olympus XA's true rangefinder or the Stylus Epic's autofocus it employs a system I affectionately refer to as guess-u-focus. One simply estimates the distance to the subject, dials this estimate into the distance scale on the lens and hopes depth of field exceeds margin of error. This isn't really a problem for landscape type shots as any distance beyond about 10 metres is effectively infinity. At portrait distances the need for accuracy increase as light levels drop off, demanding wider apertures. In early evening light with 400 speed film I find I can still be assured of reasonable results, though tack sharpness may be hit or miss.

So far my Bellami has hosted two rolls of HP5+ in as many weeks since it arrived, due mainly to my desire to put it through its paces. They aren't the sort of gallery destined once in a lifetime images I got this camera vowing never to miss. They're more the photo album destined type that might be a bit of a laugh now but as memories of last week don't mean much now. Last week will be way back when too quickly. I can imagine the famed image this camera may one day capture hanging on the wall, ignored, as yet unborn beloved flip trough pages squealing in laughter, hardly believing that's how their parents really looked at teenagers. Sometimes you just never know where the real treasures will be found.

A fairly close subject in diminishing light challenges one's ability to estimate lens to subject distance, a ncessary skill if one hopes to get good images with the Bellami. I'm sure I'll get more consistent with practice but here I just about nailed it.

A Bridge Too Far

This image of the Peace Bridge is a scan from a print on Ilford MG IV RC after both sepia and selenium tonering. The first bath of the sepia process went to work too quickly for my purposes, leading to a stronger than intended effect.

If this image of the Peace Bridge connecting Buffalo NY to Fort Erie Canada made one misty morning this spring looks familiar it may be because it was featured only last week in Simple Alchemy. If it looks different know that its earlier appearance was a scan from the negative whereas this is a scanned from a darkroom print on Ilford MG IV. If it looks really different it's because this print was the subject of some of my first experiments with print toning since the days of my bachelor pad darkroom. Back then it was mostly about using selenium toner, a simple bath finished prints can be put through that gives the silver grains that make up the image a coating of more stable selenium that not only helps to protect the image against the ravages of time, it affects the colour, altering the tone of the silver image with a modest but noticeable purple/blue while deepening the darkest tones giving the image a richer appearance. Selenium toning typically results in a higher D-max, the density of the darkest possible black, than can otherwise be achieved with the same photo paper untoned. While the name toning implies the object is to achieve a colour shift, with selenium toner this sometimes seems almost secondary to the benefits of increased tonal depth and archival permanence.

Since the process of reclaiming my old wet darkroom capabilities began less than a year ago it's been a given that I would resume the practice of selenium toning sooner or later. I imagined that it would coincide roughly with the return to printing on fibre based stock once I was ready to deal with its extra demands, but although that remains in the works I have been inspired recently with the notion of taking print toning a little further. The inspiration comes from numerous photographers I admire whose work often departs noticeably from the modest tonal shifts typical of results seen selenium toner alone. A leading figure the movement, if it can be called such, is the photographer Tim Rudman whose book "The Master Photographer's Toning Book" has managed to become a classic of traditional darkroom work even though it only first appeared in 2002 at the onset of the digital age. Tim is well spoken, an acknowledged authority on toning as well as many other areas of darkroom craft and a highly regarded writer and instructor. I can't imagine that I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone looking to take their print making skills to the next level... if only I could get my hands on it! This book is in such high demand and, being out of print, such short supply that on the used market this slightly over 200 page softcover book has been known command prices in the $1000 neighbourhood. A quick peek on Amazon while writing this showed 3 copies available through various sellers with prices starting at $400. That's more than can be justified for a guy working out of what is little better than a makeshift closet darkroom. Sadly the obvious demand these prices represent has not been enough to convince publishers that another printing is in order. From the account on Tim's web page one can surmise that this clear objective evidence has not been enough to trump the common "knowledge" that film photography is dead and therefore there's no demand for such a book.

For me at least this means trudging on without this authoritative reference, making the best of my existing experience along with whatever I can glean from the internet or the less comprehensive coverage given to the subject in other books. So be it.

 If there is a saving grace in all of this it's that the effect I'm after is a bit more subtle than the typically more dramatic tones that seem to be popular with so many photographers these days. For the majority of my work I'd want to see a definite departure from the usual scale of neutral greys you get with standard papers straight out of the usual develop stop fix process, but nothing that screams out that toning effects were used. I still want my prints to look black and white, but I would like to see a depth enhancing variation of warm to cool going from highlight to shadow that can be achieved with split toning. Because it works by clinging to the molecules of silver in the print, the rich cool purple effect achieved with selenium toner affects the silver rich shadows most, leaving the highlights untouched. While it's a nice effect in general I like my prints to be on the warm side overall, requiring a different toner. The plan is to combine the cool dark tones of selenium with warm browns that come from sepia toner for a split toned effect.

The word sepia evokes notions of those old timey brown toned images from photography's early days and many are those who regard sepia toner's purpose is to render an effect that evokes a sense of those old days. In truth it can be used to achieve a variety of warming effects and here's how. Sepia toning is a two bath process. The first bath is a bleach based on potassium ferricyanide, which sounds worse than it is though you still want to be careful when mixing it not to inhale any of the dry powder that may become airborne. Immersed in this bleach the print will, to the alarm of many first timers, begin to disappear from the paper, starting with the highlights and progressing towards the darker tones as it is left in the bath for longer periods. The image is still there but invisible, like the latent image on an exposed but undeveloped roll of film. Once bleached to the desired degree the print is rinsed thoroughly in running water then placed into a sodium sulfide bath (which is nastier than it sounds - even when mixing it outdoors I got complaints about the rotten egg smell that managed to waft indoors.) Within about 10 seconds the image that had bleached away is redeveloped, taking on the warm sepia tint as it reappears. The effect can thus be controlled by altering how far into the darker tones the image is bleached.

The Photographers Formulary Sepia Toner kit and my
bottle of Kodak Rapid Selenium Toner

I hadn't really played with sepia toner since photography school days. Back then I was using Kodak's sepia toner kit and trying to achieve the strongest effect I could manage. Bleaching down into the shadows seemed to take forever and I remember wishing Kodak had made this solution stronger. I was never really happy with the effect back then, toning to that degree made the print seem dull and the old fashioned look never seemed particularly genuine to me. Until my recent notions of using it in conjunction with selenium toner for split toning I hadn't given sepia much thought since.

In the intervening years Kodak has discontinued their sepia toner but there is a kit available from Photographer's Formulary which I duly ordered. Like many other Formulary kits of this kind the box contained individual packets containing each individual raw chemical ingredient. Unlike in my photo school days however I was going for just a whiff of warmth in the highlights, meaning I only wanted a slight bleaching. The Formulary bleach solution was a deeper yellow than I remembered and I should have taken a clue from this.

The bleaching started almost immediately and by the time it had a chance to even out across the print it had already gone further than I had wanted. For the second print I diluted the bleach 1_1 but it was still much too fast. As I only made a couple of good prints I experimented a bit with the seconds, the ones I had made prior to figuring out how to get the burning and dodging just right, but ran out of those before concluding there was just no way to keep from going too far without diluting even further. In fact I believe it will need to much further, perhaps 10 to 1 or more. It seems keeping a stock solution and diluting for use may be the thing here and obviously more experimentation is needed. That, unfortunately, will have to wait until next time I have a few prints to work with.

Simple Alchemy Supplemental - Beutler's Day Off

While the original article Simple Alchemy was intended as a small expose on the practice of mixing your own darkroom chemistry from raw ingredients a good deal was said about my favourite home-brewed concoction Beutler's developer. From the feedback I have received so far it seems a lot of the interest many of you had in it was about this formula itself. And so, even as the arrival of enough PMK Pyro developer to last me at least a year may see my stock of Beutler put into semi-retirement it seems a good time to add a few things that might be of practical value to anyone inclined to try it for themselves.

Willi Beutler published the formula for his namesake developer during the 1950s in response to the new fine grained, thin emulsion films that were beginning to appear on the market at the time. The idea was to create a reasonably dilute one shot developer that would exhaust in the regions around dense highlight areas while remaining more active in the thinner shadow portions of the negative, creating a compensating effect to counteract these newer film's higher contrast. At the same time the finer grain of these films made it unnecessary to create a solvency effect which reduces the appearance of grain but also has the effect of giving a mushier appearance to fine details. By avoiding this Beutler formulated his developer to favour high definition, or acutance, over reducing grain. As a bonus, by favouring development in the shadows where the telling signs of underexposure appear, while avoiding the density reducing solvency effect of fine-grain developers, the formula makes the most of true film speed, which is to say the natural ideal speed at which to shoot without "pushing".

The plan is just as valid with today's moderate to slow speed black and white films as it was sixty years ago. Beutler is used to maximum advantage with films of 125 ISO and below. This is not to say that its virtues are completely lost on faster films, but you're less likely to need the compensating effect at higher speeds and more likely to miss the grain reducing effect that even middle of the road developers like D76 give you.

While we're on the subject I should say here that it isn't really fair to call Beutler, or any other formula for that matter, a "high grain" developer. Grain is an inherent part of the film and a developer can only mask its appearance, making it less obvious. Developers that have a reputation for yielding grainy results (Rodinal is another one you may hear this about) simply don't incorporate any measures to do this. This isn't oversight, grain reduction typically comes at a price in terms of acutance and film speed. They don't boost the appearance of grain so much as show it to you like it is.

There is one small word of caution in order before we get into details on using Beutler. If you use this or any other developer containing Metol (this includes a host of common film and paper developers including D76 and Dektol) in such a way that your are in prolonged contact with the solution (such as tray developing sheet film) wearing gloves or other protective measures to prevent direct contact with the skin is recommended as develop an adverse skin reaction with prolonged and repeated contact with Metol, also known by its Kodak trade name Elon.

Beutler is prepared as two separate concentrates that are combined and diluted just prior to use, after which the used developer is discarded. Part A contains the sole developing agent Metol, and enough Sodium Sulfite to act as a preservative, In higher concentrations Sodium Sulfite acts as a solvent that can begin to dissolve the metallic silver that make up the image grain which is precisely the strategy employed by nearly all grain reducing developers. I'll also note that it is important not to confuse Sodium Sulfite with Sodium Sulfide, a nastier substance also used in photo chemistry. Part B contains Sodium Carbonate to create the alkali environment needed by every photographic developer I've ever heard of. The alkali causes the developer to oxidize much more rapidly once combined so keeping the two parts separate until just prior to use increases the shelf life dramatically. You may find Sodium Carbonate at the local supermarket, sold under its common name Washing Soda. There are plenty of photographers use supermarket Washing Soda when mixing up their developers, just be careful not to get the scented stuff. The final chemical used in both parts is water. (I wish it weren't the case that so many people are surprised to hear water referred to as a chemical, which it most certainly is.) Water quality can vary greatly depending on where you live, and hard water is always bad news in photo chemistry, so if in doubt distilled water is always a good choice and usually very cheap.

That said, here is the recipe for Beutler:

Solution A:
750ml Water (40-50^oC)
10g Metol
50g Sodium Sulfite
Cold water to make 1L

Solution B:
750ml Water (40-50^oC)
50g Sodium Carbonate (anhydrous)
Cold water to make 1L

Notes on preparation:

• To make different quantities adjust all quantities in proportion equally
• If using the monohydrate form of Sodium Carbonate multiply the quantity by 1.17
• To prevent Sodium Carbonate from clumping into hard to dissolve crystals stir while adding it to water and do so gradually in a steady stream.

Usage

You may prepare any quantity of Beutler needed by combining and diluting the parts in any of the following proportions:

"Official" dilution: 1 part Solⁿ A + 1 part Solⁿ B + 8 parts water
Popular dilution: 1 part Solⁿ A + 1 part Solⁿ B + 10 parts water
The dilution I use: 1 part Solⁿ A + 1 part Solⁿ B + 12 parts water

The official dilution is what was recommended when the formula was first published though the popular dilution seems to be what is more commonly used these days. If you look up recommendations for using Beutler with your film on The Massive Dev Chart or elsewhere you may find recommendations for either or both of these dilutions. Do not use time/temperature recommendations for Neofin Blue assuming it's the same thing. While The Photographer's Formulary sells Beutler under the alternate name Neofin Blue, Neofin Blue proper is actually a completely different formula sold by Tetenal and the Massive Dev Chart's listings are for this product, Beutler is listed separately. I began using the higher 1+1+12 dilution because it's my completely arbitrary opinion that a compensating developer needs a good ten minutes in contact with the film to work properly and lesser dilutions weren't giving this to me with my favourite film. This works fine, makes it even cheaper to use and divides nice and evenly into the 420ml of solution I need for a 120 film in my stainless tanks. One of the rare online flame-wars I have seen break out in film photography forums has been over which dilution of Beutler's is "proper". Proper is why you rent a tux to go to a black-tie event. Use what works and makes sense to you.

As Beutler is hardly the best known developer out there finding recommendations for developing the film you use in it may be difficult, especially if the film is also less common. if The Massive Dev Chart doesn't have what you need, a web search may turn up something you use, otherwise a little experimentation may be needed. If you have no clue try 8 minutes if using the official dilution, 10 minutes for the popular dilution and 12 minutes for my dilution.

Lastly here are links to a few North American suppliers from whom you can order the raw chemical ingredients needed to make Beutler and any number of other photo chemical formulations. If you live elsewhere and know of a good supplier in your part of the world I'd welcome you to post references that others may find useful in the comments.

The Photographers Formulary - As the name implies the Formulary is built on supplying the photographic specialty market. They carry a comprehensive list of raw chemical ingredients as well as prepared developers, fixers and other concoctions today's analog photographers are likely to need or want.

Bostick & Sullivan - Known primarily as suppliers to those involved in alternative photographic processes such as Platinum/Palladium printing, they do carry the substances we lowly Silver using types need as well, including all you need to make Beutler (save for the water.)

Artcraft Chemicals - An extensive list of raw ingredients, some harder to find. Reputedly they will ship items to Canada and elsewhere that other suppliers will restrict to customers in the Lower 48, but shipping for any non-US order must be arranged by contacting them directly

B&H Photo - This photo big-box store carries a respectable inventory of photo chemistry, both raw and prepared, from several brands like Kodak and Photographer's Formulary. A good choice if you need one or two ingredients and want to combine it with your order for film and other supplies at the same time to save shipping.