Photograph by Dalton Rooney
I’ve finally got enough film from the trip developed and scanned to choose a few photos for the website. I still haven’t gotten to the film from Pantalica, a giant necropolis outside of Siracusa where I think I took my best photos. These are from Monreale and Monte Pellegrino, just outside of Palermo.
I broke down and bought a Nikon Coolscan 9000 today. For two reasons: I found a small crack in the glass of my Epson 4990 yesterday, and also because I am very excited about my photos from Sicily and want to be able to print them larger than 12×12. I’ve never been satisfied with the print quality of medium format scans on the Epson beyond 12×12. I think I may have gotten the only 9000 in New York City, since Calumet is the only shop that had it in stock, and they had exactly one.
I’ve had the scanner just long enough to realize that the software isn’t 100% compatible with OS X 10.5 or Photoshop CS3, that I am going to need to upgrade to the glass negative carrier (or maybe save $300 and do the DIY version like this guy did?) and to realize just how big and loud the thing is. From the one or two scans I’ve managed to make so far I can already tell that I don’t like the software at all, but the final scans seem quite a bit sharper than the Epson at 1800 dpi. More reports as they come in.
Two years ago, I took a trip that changed my life. My wife and I were traveling together in Italy—being tourists, visiting family, eating great food—and out of nowhere, I realized that I was meant to be a photographer. It was a bolt out of the blue and I had absolutely no idea what it meant. I had a small point and shoot camera with me at the time and knew nothing at all about photography. But I returned from that trip somehow knowing what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
In the two years since, I’ve been continually surprised by how prescient that realization was. I’ve gone deep, deep down the rabbit hole, spending entire days in the art library at Brooklyn College, devouring book after book of photography. I remember the exact moment I discovered the work of Harry Callahan. The same goes for Robert Adams, George Tice, Walker Evans, and Stephen Shore. Oh my god, Stephen Shore. There was an entire world that I had no idea existed, and now I am completely immersed in it.
I’ve looked at thousands of pictures in the last two years and taken thousands of pictures myself. I’ve often been unsteady and unsure of myself, like a newborn deer taking my first steps. I’ve taken some wrong turns along the way, but for the most part I have steadily improved. I know an awful lot about the technical requirements of making a good photo. I know how to put together a composition. I am developing a visual style and learning to work within a theme. But most importantly, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve learned about the great unknowable questions that live inside of me, and I’ve learned that I can get ever closer to answering those questions with a camera in my hand. I don’t think that I’ll ever get all the way to the bottom of all of this, or at least I hope I don’t. What do you do with a Rubik’s Cube that’s already been solved? You put it on the shelf and admire it. But I do know that every big step along the way leads to art-making that satisfies me on the deepest level.
I’ve just returned from another two weeks in Italy. Much like the last trip, it was revelatory. I have spent the last two years preparing the foundation for this moment, and I feel like I have taken that next step. I worked myself to the point of exhaustion. I climbed mountains, crossed rivers, and walked for days on end. At one point, I was fairly certain that I was going to die. (Never leave for a day-long hike in 95+ degree heat without bringing as much water as you can possibly carry… words to live by.)
I’ve only seen a couple of contact sheets so far, but I am falling in love. I’ve already noticed certain new patterns of seeing that emerged as I became more attuned to the landscape and to the climate. I think these patterns will be emphasized when I begin printing these photos in platinum in the fall. I will share a few images once I’ve gotten further along with developing and scanning, and then I’ll move on to printing the portfolio. I am very much looking forward to watching this series of photographs take shape and releasing them into the world.
This is definitely my last post until I get back. I have a plane to catch, after all!
I realized as I was getting everything together that packing photographic equipment for a trip is hard. How do you decide what goes and what stays? How do you optimize for weight and space? How do I make sure nothing gets broken? Have I forgotten anything?
Of course I’ve forgotten something. But I won’t know what it is until I’m already on the plane. Then I’ll smack myself on the forehead and say “Dag nabbit, I forgot my discomboobulator! ” If you learn one thing from reading this blog, it should be “Never forget your discomboobulator.”
Here’s a snapshot of what I’m bringing with me.
Let’s see…
So what am I forgetting???
Photograph by Dalton Rooney
I am leaving the heat of New York City for the heat of Sicily for a couple of weeks, so this is likely to be my last post before I go. I should have lots of exposed film when I return, but I won’t be posting very many photos right away. If all goes well, I will be printing the photos from this trip in platinum/palladium in the fall and creating a nice portfolio. That will be fun to watch, I am sure that learning platinum and palladium will give me lots to blog about when I get back.
See you in July!
Part of the fun of finally completing the “Taking a Picture” series is that now I get to give away a free print. I put the name of anyone who left a comment on the series into a hat and randomly selected one, and the winner is…Kohlton Ervin, from Meade, Washington.
Congratulations, Kohlton! The print will be in the mail this week. Kohlton is a photographer himself and you can check out his work on Flickr.
Thank you to everyone who participated in the series, or even just read along. I feel like I learned a lot along the way, and I hope you did too.
Photograph by Dalton Rooney
When I bought my SX-70 for $20 on eBay, I really had no idea that I would be so smitten with the camera and the pictures that I am taking with it. I have found over the last few weeks that I have gotten better at predicting what the “polaroid effect” will do to an image and actively seeking out subjects that will benefit from that touch. I have been so happy with the results that I have created a new gallery in the “Current Work” section of the website. I have also set a goal for myself to take enough of these by the end of the summer to compile a small book, which I will probably make available through Blurb.com or another print-on-demand service.
It is fun to let go from time to time and improvise a bit with the camera. I had gotten so used to the razor sharp, perfectly composed photographs I tend to make with my Hasselblad that I had kind of forgotten that photography can be much more loose, where perfectly straight lines and tight compositions take a backseat to the overall “feel” of the image. It is freeing, and I also think it is giving me a much needed break so I can recharge before jumping into black and white when I go to Sicily next week.
Photograph by Dalton Rooney
I was a bit surprised when I showed this photograph to my wife this morning and she said that she had seen it already. After all, I just took it yesterday afternoon, and developed and scanned it last night after she had already gone to bed. But she is convinced that I have taken this picture before.
Now, I know that I haven’t taken this exact photograph before, but she brings up a good point. I spend an awful lot of time walking the streets of Brooklyn looking for interesting sidewalk scenes. This one caught my eye, like many of the scenes I photograph, because of some interesting geometric details: the vertical line of the window and the door on the left, the twin satellite dishes, the checkmark made by the sign and its shadow and the door that floats just above it. This is one of the reasons I love the view camera—it forces you to take your time and allows you to be very precise in arranging the scene. It’s not just about the lines and shapes and tones that make up the picture; there is something a bit melancholy here in the sagging roof and drooping wires and dirty stucco that says something about this neighborhood and its place in the world.
One of the things I often do in my pictures is empathize with inanimate objects. It has to do with how I see the landscape, and how I put together a picture. I won’t take a picture unless I can find some kind of connection, some kind of personality in the objects I am photographing. To me, this is a photograph full of possibilities, and I could take a hundred more like this and find something new in each one. To most people, though, it’s probably just a picture of the side of a building. One of many I have taken, which probably isn’t all that different than the work of a lot of other photographers.
I guess I am trying to bridge the gap between how I see my own work and what the rest of the world sees. When one of my professors tells me that I am printing too dark, I bristle. It’s one thing if that were a technical issue, but as an artistic decision I feel that it’s necessary to stand by my work, even if it isn’t a decision that makes everyone happy.
Which brings me to my final question: how much of your art is driven by personal, creative goals, and how much do you let the others influence what you do?
I’ve been planning to sit down and write this for quite a while, but I’ve been keeping very busy with other things. The fact that it is currently hailing outside has given me the chance to spend some quality time indoors, though. Much like my previous post on scanning, I am going to try to avoid going into excruciating detail on every step of my digital printing workflow, because I don’t think it will be worth reading for most people. The general ideas are more important, and I am glad to answer any specific questions in the comments or offline. That’s not to say this won’t be a very technical post, and a long one at that. Please remember that I am giving this final print away to someone who has commented on one of the posts in the series, so feel free to drop a line even if it’s just to say hello.
Black and white inkjet printing felt like a very daunting subject when I first approached it. Two years ago, I had a low-end HP inkjet printer which made acceptable 8×10 color prints, but was absolutely lousy for black and white. It was impossible to get profiles for non-HP papers, and there was practically no information about archival permanence for the paper and inks I was using. In short, I wanted to create black and white prints on matte paper that looked as good as or better than what I could produce in the darkroom, and I wanted them to last a very long time. So I took the plunge into the deep waters of selecting a printer and building a solid black and white digital printing workflow.
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