Into the Library – How far Photography has come in 25 Years

The last post noted my (already weakened) New Year’s resolve to get more involved in photography and do things that would make for worthwhile entries here.  

 January Day, Columbia, MD (23 January 2012)

It’s a gloomy day here.  A cold rain is falling on an inch of icy snow that has been on the ground for three days.  That makes it a good day to continue reviewing my collected Outdoor Photographer magazines.

When I graduated from a Kodak Instamatic camera to 35mm over 40 years ago, my interests in ecology and travel meant that I was going to be an outdoor, natural light shooter.  While I admire what can be accomplished in a studio with lights, I get the most pleasure wandering about interesting places and trying to capture images as they appear in available light.

There are many photography magazines out there but, given my predisposition, Outdoor Photographer (OP) has been the best fit for me.  It’s all about great places and natural light.  From close-ups to panoramic landscapes, you seldom see people in the pictures unless they really add to a composition or provide a reference scale to the scene.  I began subscribing in 1986.  At first, I saved the issues because they were worth keeping.  Then many years passed when all I did was stack them aside because work was too consuming to give reading the time it needed.  Now I have a 25-year collection with many issues that have never been opened…a shameful admission of abominable discipline.

On the other hand, I now have a record of the revolutionary changes in photography that have occurred in that period.  Going through the collection starting with the oldest issues has been fascinating.  Since this blog is about images first and I shouldn’t be re-publishing someone else’s copyrighted work, I’ll break up the chatter with some favorite shots from those same years.

Early Snow, Vermont (October 1986)

Early autumn in New England and the first snow of the season fell while 

the leaves were still on the trees. The muted color of the trees and the

lack of color in the ground and sky make a soft, subtle scene.

When I first subscribed to OP, I was impressed with its outstanding presentation of pictures.  It’s amazing how much better published pictures are now.  Of course, 1986 pre-dates digital photography as a consumer product.  Long ago, photographers were certainly able to produce technically flawless pictures using high-grain film and meticulous darkroom procedures.  It seems we are so much better able to print and publish now.

The earliest issues actually had some black and white shots.  Ansel Adams showed that black and white can make a stunning image but not everything looks better without color.  The monochrome images in the magazine were among the least interesting and I’m certain they wouldn’t be published now.  Like you, I have become conditioned by today’s standards.  Today’s equipment is better.  What we can do on the computer after the picture is taken [in the ‘digital darkroom’] was unfathomable then.  Today’s images have so much more ‘POP’ since we can improve a picture’s brightness, color saturation and contrast.

On the other hand, there are certain shots that can impress without much brightness or color.  A subtle and moody scene around dawn or dusk or in interesting weather will always works for me.

City Park, New Orleans (April 1986)

 Of course, the most striking aspect of that time was it pre-dated the digital era.  We all used film then.  The magazine had these archaic moments that are no longer possible.  The late, great Galen Rowell was discussing his cover shot and wrote, “I withheld my judgment until the film was developed”.  Now, we can see our pictures when we take them.  

I recall a pro at that time telling me that if you wanted to publish in magazines like National Geographic, you shot 35mm slides.  Kodachrome slide film was king for many years.  Then Fuji made terrific film.  Now, hardly anyone uses film and Kodak, once a Fortune 500 company, has just gone bankrupt.  It has become a relic.  While some may wax nostalgic [the way vinyl record lovers do] about certain qualities of film…I can’t think of one right now, I’ll bet no one misses worrying about film and airport x-ray machines.

Ready to Fly (Wisconsin, June 1987)

Close-up of a dandelion-like seed pod before the wind carried the seeds away 

Back then, large format cameras were used by many of the better photographers.  Few people lug around 8 X 10 field cameras anymore.  Motor drives [which allowed quick sequence action pictures without you having to pull a lever to advance the film] were expensive accessories then.  Now, digital pictures can be taken and stored as fast as the shutter can go…no need to mechanically advance the film strip.

 Nova Scotia Stream (October 1987)

Using a tripod, one can close the lens aperture down to use the higher f-stops that 

will give the greatest depth of field.  This puts everything in the picture in focus.   

However, higher f-stops mean longer exposures and longer exposures blur the 

movement of the water, which, in this case, makes for an appealing image.

The August 1986 issue introduced the Canon T-90 camera.  They called it a “revolutionary new camera…fully automated in every way except focus, a control many photographers still aren’t willing to relinquish to the computer chip”.  How quaint.  Who thought that in ten years, everyone would swear by autofocus and in twenty, we’d have cameras that did twice as much for half the price and all in a package that could fit in your pocket?  

We’ve come a long way, baby.

The Best Christmas Tree Ever

A year ago today, I was taking down our Christmas tree and was struck by a memory.  This led to a little, illustrated, post-holiday essay which I sent to my sisters and a few close friends.  I had been toying with the idea of a blog and this piece [and the kind replies I received] encouraged me to begin ‘Images and More’.

Full of New Year’s resolve, I hope to be more diligent and disciplined with this enterprise in 2012.  There will be more state houses and Passed President stories.  There will be actual learning and development to apply and share.  It being an election year, there could very well be a rant or two.  I hope you won’t mind that part but it is my platform.  It might help to retain my extremely small readership (The Marketing Department prefers to call it ‘EXCLUSIVE’) if I include a warning label like the ‘Parental Discretion Advised’ stickers on music CD’s. 

So, contrary to all that, I begin the year by recycling an old story.  No warning label necessary.

Happy New Year.

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January 2011

There was something special about this year’s Christmas tree.  Every year, the subject of changing to an artificial tree comes up.  We are in a store and the same dialog occurs - yes, it would pay for itself in no time and yes, we should not be part of the grow-cut-throw out abuse of resources.

Then, every year, we get a REAL tree, with real branches and real needles and that real evergreen smell.  We pay the bucks and schlep the thing home, light a fire and decorate it while listening to holiday tunes.  We both thought this year’s tree was the best ever.  It was taller but it fit the small space we had for it just right.  The ornaments we have accumulated over the years and the lights made it something you just wanted to hang with…even after the gifts were opened and gone.

My Bride is a Ripley and she has the family drive that must move on to the next task at hand.  That’s one of the things that make them such an accomplished family.  By January 6^th, she decided Christmas was over and the house had to be restored to its pre-holiday appearance.  It wasn’t until the tree was ready to drag out of the house that I remembered something.

Fifty years ago this holiday season, I was supposed to die.  On December 11^th 1960, I was taken to the Bronx Municipal Hospital Center with double lobar pneumonia and a collapsed lung.  By December 15^th, infections spread outside the lungs to the chest cavity.  I was transferred to a tuberculosis hospital [yes, they had them in those days] and a police car was sent to fetch my mother so someone could be with me when the end came. 

I guess I had other plans.  As Christmas passed and New Year’s approached, I was out of immediate danger and the family told me about how terrific our tree was that year.  It was a Scotch pine and it looked so beautiful, they promised to keep it up until I came home.  Of course, no one expected that I would be released from the hospital on Valentine’s Day.

The joke around the house by then was that even the cat walking by the tree was enough to make needles fall.  Everyone stayed clear of the room so as not to shake any more dry needles off the thing.  After 64 days of hospitalization, I was very happy to be alive and home and the tree looked wonderful even if it was dry and droopy.

So these memories came flooding back to me AFTER I had taken this year’s tree down to the bare branches.  Had I realized it sooner, I would have insisted on keeping it up longer…maybe not until Valentine’s Day but longer in memory of that trying period in my young life. 

I guess these thoughts stimulated the morbid parts of my brain.  With the realization that the best tree ever was being hauled to the curb, it just seemed like I was dragging a body there…like bringing out the dead during the Great Plague.  The tree, just a day before, was a bright, shining, festive symbol.  Now it was a corpse waiting to be hauled away.  Sad.

In fact, it reminded me of a crime scene. 

The CSI people have just left.  Preliminary determination was that the tree’s death was neither suspicious nor noteworthy.  The town is littered with the bodies of dearly departed conifers that made the Supreme Sacrifice…giving their all so that we might enjoy the Holidays.

R.I.P.