A life well-lived.

Here’s my Rollei story. My wife was a nurse in a medical office. Although I’m sure she treated all patients with kindness and professionalism, one gentleman in his 90’s was her favorite. He always had stories of his adventures, first as a member of the Dutch resistance during World War II and then as a professional photographer across many continents and decades. He often invited her to drop by his home and to bring her husband (me) whom he knew was interested in photography. She finally took him up on his offer. We arrived on a Saturday morning and he was a gracious host. At some point he pulled out a Rolleicord III, his personal camera (he used a Leica for work). He handed the Rollei to me and explained the buttons and knobs and answered all of my questions. When I gave it back to him he said “No, you keep it”. I told him I couldn’t possibly do that – we had just met. He insisted (I suspect it had something to do with Suzanne being his favorite nurse) and I ended up leaving with the camera. He was an avid sailor (still, at that age) so the only way I could think of to repay him was to make a nautical photograph with the Rollei and then present it to him (the photograph, I now know, wasn’t very good, and besides, it was a fishing boat). The camera reminds me of a life well-lived. I need to shoot it again (dim viewfinder and all). I know the ‘flex has more prestige than the ‘cord, but I wouldn’t make that trade.

A local exhibit.

This past Sunday Martin J. Venhoeven spoke at his “Contemplative Photography” exhibit, showing through November 30, 2019 at Dharma Realm Buddhist University. Nary a word about f-stops or shutter speeds. I heard “Nikon” and “Leica” once each, and someone in the audience mentioned “post-processing”. What Mr. Venhoeven discussed, quite eloquently, was his connection to nature, particularly the nature of a lake in Maine, and how that connection informed his photography. He enlivened his talk with numerous references to poetry and meditation (including a particularly humorous – and insightful – story about “standing meditation”). His photographs were as much about him as about the lake – calm, respectful, and direct.

Book review.

Extensive. Detailed. Probing. Complex. That’s the book (my rating: four out of five f-stops). The artists? Full of themselves, but maybe justified by the enormity of their talent (well, certainly O’Keefe, probably Stieglitz, not sure about the other two). I was in the presence of an O’Keefe at the DeYoung years ago – stunning (a flower, of course). Don’t know if I’ve seen anything by the others, but an original Stieglitz would be worth the effort.

Book review.

Not sure about this one. First of all, I have to admit that I had never heard of Ernest Withers, and, while some of his photos looked familiar, none of them had previously grabbed my attention. Then again, his “I Am a Man” image is striking, especially with the back story of the sticks. Withers photographed the civil rights movement, especially around Memphis (Bluff City) but was simultaneously secretly providing information to the FBI. His spying appears to have at times provided cover and safety to the participants and at other times thwarted their objectives. Withers’s motives remain unclear but seem to be at least in part his need to make a buck. He left behind a treasure trove of historic (and at times artistic) photographs, now being protected and promoted by his family. The book includes references to his Rolleiflexes but no film/developer/darkroom data. Three f-stops (out of five).

New and improved.

Thanks to Craig of Greg Hoyt Construction for my beautifully remodeled darkroom. The sink is large enough for 20×24 prints and the layout is much more efficient than my previous setup. I can’t wait to get in there and develop the hell out of my next roll of film!

My choice.

In response to Desert Island Camera No. 8 – Medium Format Edition:

I’m assuming this desert island has a fully supplied darkroom, but no computers, so the basic premise (film) is a good one. I’m also assuming that by some quirk of the supply chain batteries cannot be delivered, so fully manual is required (Sunny 16 would almost always work). The island would have a lot of sand, so I don’t want interchangeable lenses. Desert islands being on the small size, I’d need a wide-angle lens (I don’t want to stand out in the water to photograph the palm trees and get eaten by sharks). So my camera would be . . . the Fuji GSW690III!

Book review.

If you agree that every good photograph tells a story, then I have a book for you – only, however, if you find Alexander McCall Smith’s tales “charming”, not if they strike you as “corny”. The author took five vintage photographs, snapshots really, of ordinary people doing ordinary things, taken from early- to mid-twentieth century, and wrote a short story for each. If you are familiar with his work (No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency and others) you know that pretty much everyone lives happily-ever-after, or at least learns a valuable lesson. The photos were all from an age when a photograph was not a photograph unless it was a print, which begs the question of whether a hundred years from now our only-on-a-screen photos will inspire similar stories. I give this book four f-stops (out of five).

Uh-oh . . .

From Do I Make Myself Clear? by Harold Evans:

“Writers generally set out with good intentions, but something happens along the way. We don’t really know what we want to say until we try to write it, and in the gap between the thought and its expression we realize the bold idea has to be qualified or elaborated. We write more sentences. Then more. We are soon in the territory defined by the French mathematician Blaise Pascal (1623-1662) but associated with others, too: “I would have written something shorter, but I didn’t have time.”