Week of 3/25/2013: Medium Format Friday

Location: Near 9^th and Green Sts.

Camera: Rolleiflex Automat K4

Exposure: f13.5 @250

Lens: Schneider Xenar 75mm f3.5

Film: Tri-X 120, rated at ISO 200

Develop: HC110B 1:49, 6.5 min at 68F

Scan from film: Epson V500

Printable size: 12” x 15”

Proof Epson 3880: Quadtone Rip/ Piezo K7 inks/ Canon Pixma Glossy

Winter makes me want to shoot with gear that is light and agile. As things warm up, somehow toting around the more ponderous medium format gear doesn’t feel like such a problem. The less I have to fight the weather, the more suited I feel towards spending more time outside and working even more slowly. 

Two weeks ago, there was a rather balmy Friday. Using 35mm these last few months, it was a real eye-opener to suddenly see the world unfold, looking down into the large, bright, ground glass of a twin-lens reflex camera. It seemed to take in so much! I knew from experience the larger format shots would run rings around the 35mm in terms of detail, sharpness, and tonality. Since there is no zoom, only a normal focal-length lens, I had to really rethink my strategy.

The trade off between achieving superb image qualities and the ability to catch life as it goes whizzing by, becomes very apparent using manual film instruments. Even the most modern and sophisticated digital cameras, though they do much to stack the deck in favor of combing both, still have not set the problem to rest. Perseverance, intuition, and a bit of luck seem to be what this dance begs.  

Romance, Reality and The Digital Dark Side

This year, I have likely done more shooting just wandering the streets of Philadelphia than I have since the late 90's. What has motivated it, is not completely clear to me but I think a lot of it has to do with the Stand in the Light pinhole photographs, the pilot series having been recently completed. The post processing took hundreds of hours spread out over many months. I kind of just needed a break, an excuse to bum around the streets, simply me, my thoughts, and the camera; to do more or less straight photography and satisfy my hunger for reality, but also to connect with something vital, alive and ever-shifting.

I've become addicted to the extremely long walks and the meditation it takes to use a public space as my studio, especially as I've become more interested in the idea of simply letting things to come to me, rather than trying to force my own vision on the world. In a sense, I have been testing myself, allowing my mind to just take things in and also to let the distraction flow through me. Of course, flexing one's visual imagination in an open-air setting is just as varied and unreliable as hitting a more traditional work space. I've had days where everything seemed to be magic, where my inner state was Zen-like, others where I couldn't make it fly. But something else has become patently clear: the best currently available tool for these jaunts in the urban landscape is a digital camera.

For years I resisted. I carried a multitude of film jobs, many considered collector's pieces. I would use a digital occasionally and without much seriousness or care, using point-n-shoots, often of low mega pixel-age. It was always film that was for The Work. In fact, I even wrote a missive for The Broad Street Review on why I was shooting film and had side-stepped the digital revolution.

My attitude towards working digitally has changed recently, in fact, it's the only kind of camera I feel motivated to use for shooting pretty much anything outside of a studio type environment. As an irrational human, where my sentiments lead is often at variance with rationality. I try to make a conscious choice as to which is allowed the upper hand. In the creative end of art, what has often been called a waking dream, I'm happy to lead to let sentiment romp all over the mental playground, but when it comes to setting the stage and making the tool and logistical choices, I do my best to be as pragmatic as possible.

All the photos I've done for the recent Digital Landscape series have been done using a 6mp Canon Powershot point-n-shoot. In 2007 its list price was about $700. They are now going on e-Bay for about $40. This speaks more for the rapid advances in technology and depreciation in a market ever hungry for the latest thing rather than this camera's ability to make great photos. The freedom to experiment without concern for film or developing costs, to quickly zoom and reframe shots, and to be able to come home after after being out for many hours and closely look at what I captured and then be able to edit and share the images online, makes the cold, plastic-y, and unromantic silver box the clear winner.

I think Cartier-Bresson once said that one's first ten thousand photographs were the worst. With film, only the most steadfast photographers ever reached that mysterious tipping point. The limitations and lessons I learned from film have not only allowed me to start to really appreciate electronic photography but in many ways are informing what I'm doing with it. Shooting film for years taught me to slow down even though today's digital cameras are fast and nimble and encourage a fast and loose shooting style. Film photography really required the photographer to pre-visualize the final print. Though digital does give you an instant preview of the shot, it still is a far cry from the finished image, so little has really changed. I'm still having to get in tune with how the camera sees.

I guess there was and still is a certain romance to shooting with film, some of the biggest arguments being simplicity and the kind of concentration and near-ceremony using a film camera brings to the whole chain of creating photos. It's tactile and physical too. Part of the attachment for me was I brought up on film. Some of my fondest memories are working in the darkroom whether it was a bathroom, or later a small outbuilding my dad and I built.

The romance ramped up in graduate school when I started getting into antique cameras as real users. I had collected old film cameras as a kid, scouring the junk and estate shops of the Upper West Side in Manhattan for old Kodaks that I bought for a few bucks, but it was in graduate school that I bought my first usable antiques and fell in love with them. While I was at LSU in the early 90's I started simply roaming around with them. I bought a Zeiss Super Ikonta C, a German camera from the fateful year of 1933. Then, not content with one, I bought another. I bought a few 35mm Kodak Retinas from George Mrus, who was then alive and selling nice overhauled items.

The mania for finding the perfect outside/street camera continued into my years in Philadelphia, offering a poor substitute for really going out and making a lot of images. The film cameras kept on multiplying as I tried out different tools. The insanity finally peaked this year when I started looking at Leicas and Voigtlander Bessas as my possible next acquisition. Somehow reason stepped in and though I will likely upgrade soon, it's going to be to a Panasonic Lumix G2, a fairly modest mirror-less digital which is even less sexy than the Canon, but it's compact, has some excellent optics available and will suit my needs. I will still use my Graflex beasts and Crown Graphics for Tsirkus Fotografika and for pinhole work. Vintage folder anyone?

Clothing Optional

OK, I will come clean; the germ of this blog was a Craigslist missive from a novice photographer asking for professional advice on how to get started photographing women nude. I usually resist the temptation to answer such things, primarily because it’s usually just wasted words. Most of the time, I don’t even get a “thank you” for responding. Too, the vast number of people who post queries like this are somehow engaged in a kind of magical thinking; that is, they think that if they just throw their issue out in the world and wish hard enough, someone will provide the easy, pat answer, and all will be well. They don’t want to hear the real truths, which involve uncertainty, a bit of luck and most of all, hard work.

But I had a moment of indiscretion, and every so often I feel expansive with the desire to pass on what little wisdom I may have accumulated related to things that most people don’t care about. Additionally, I’m curious about whether my ideas are received and the dialogue that ensues. I love to teach, I just loathe formal educational environments. The possibility of winning over a young heart and mind to the path of creative anarchy is like putting a sardine in front of a starved alley cat-- I pounced. I sent this person the “five minute version” (no answer as of this post date) and have expanded my ideas below.

First, if you are not the type who takes a self-inventory every now and then and you’re determined to add galleries of flesh to your portfolio, my best advice is: Stop reading now! What I’ve written below will not change your mind and will simply annoy you.

As subject matter, the nude is creatively dangerous. For one, we still live in a country where the human body is seen as something from which people must shield their eyes and thoughts. You are likely to be plagued by questions concerning your own reasons for photographing raw human anatomy and will need to unravel what on earth you are doing, given the glut of nudes, especially of women as photographed by men. Nude photography requires dealing with one’s own complex motivations plus those of a living self-determining and ever-shifting subject who has invested a lot of trust in both you and your creative abilities. By peeling away the physical barrier of clothing, a social and cultural boundary is removed, putting both the subject and the photographer in a new psychological space that can be disquieting. Even after years of drawing and painting from the figure as well as making many photographic images, I still find working with a live model challenging and even a bit nerve wracking. There are occasional moments in the studio where I avert my eyes, feeling my gaze is too intimate and that I’ve transgressed an unspoken boundary. Add to all this the thorny process of attempting to make really excellent photographs, and you can see why things can get difficult and messy.

The art historian Kenneth Clarke wrote: “No nude, however abstract, should fail to arouse in the spectator some vestige of erotic feeling, even if it be only the faintest shadow - and if it does not do so it is bad art and false morals.” If you believe this, there is no playing it “safe.” I find so called “figure studies” that just show the beauty of the human body, to be pretty uninteresting since they take a human being, something alive, chaotic and unpredictable and turn it into still life.

There are more practical problems as well. For every potential subject you invite to be photographed, be he or she professional model or amateur, you are automatically suspect until proven otherwise. At worst you are a potential rapist who buries people in the basement, but more likely you will be potentially looked at as being something much more prosaic. With the advent of digital photography, there has been an explosion of “GWC’s” or “Guys With Cameras”—men whose interest in photography doesn’t go much further than whether their pricey new equipment will get a woman to take her clothes off. These poseurs waste the model’s time snapping photos that are mediocre and are often last seen during the shoot on the camera’s lcd screen.

The best solution to the above is to be professional, even formal in how you present yourself, what your project is and what you want to do. These days most modeling gigs are worked out online. What you write in your posts and emails are often all someone responding to your subject search has to go on. Be forthright about the state of your experience, circumstances and budget. Have a project or better yet, specific shots in mind that you want to execute. Explain your purpose and intended use of the images. If the model wants to bring a friend or significant other to the shoot, let them. If a model wants to meet you ahead of time to make sure you are OK, go have a cup of coffee and bring some prints. Having a face-to-face meeting before the shoot helps the work go better in my experience. You have a sense of the person ahead of time.

Minimally, have a page on Model Mayhem or One Model Place where people you’ve worked with can “tag” you and write about their positive experiences working with you. Pay your models, if at all possible, even if it’s just a modest show-up fee. Secure a good space to work in, even if you have to rent an hourly studio. Prepare.

More important than covering the professional bases, as I alluded to previously, consider the model’s perspective. In fact, I’d go as far as to suggest you take a stab at modeling nude to get a feel for the kind of vulnerability it engenders and how difficult it really is. I had the full and somewhat mortifying experience in college. Being very broke, I was a figure model for a weekend drawing group attended by a rather sleazy-looking man who invited me to do a “private session” at his house. Yes, guys get harassed too!

My experience is people model, regardless of whether they are clothed or not, because they are interested in being in collaborations with creative people. They enjoy the process of evolving tableaux for the camera and the surprises that happen when an image reflects them in a totally new and interesting way. As a photographer, you are in a sense, helping them explore who they are. It’s really a give and take and the more the photographer invests in making a great image, the more something primary from the subject comes through in the photos. If I can be a bit lofty for a moment, this is really what the photographer is “returning” to the model and the world. On a more grounded note, make sure you deliver the files and prints you promise. If you do this, my guess is you will have no shortage of people who will want to create the kind of images you envision.

So how to start? Contrary to what all the photography and art schools would like you to believe, nobody really “studies” photography; you just jump in. The first nudes I did, I put an ad on Craigslist looking for volunteers and I found a few as well! The shots were not stellar, but I learned a lot and I got over a lot of the anxiety I had about working with nude subjects one-on-one. From there I made more and just continued on doing them and a lot of other studio work. The operative word being “work.”

The Zoe Strauss Problem

I've never been a big fan of Zoe Strauss. I've always found it more engaging to criticize Strauss' work than to look to it for what is magical. I have a colleague that is obsessively jealous of Zoe's success. Nary has a conversation gone by about the state of creating work and the market for photography that her name hasn’t come up. Certainly her career has been kind of like the character of Pecker in the eponymous movie by John Waters, where a kid from an eccentric family with no formal training (Does Strauss have a college degree even?) in a gritty working class enclave picks up a cheap 35mm Canonet rangefinder camera (sometimes called a “poor man’s Leica” and one of my favorite cameras) and within months has a show at Cheim and Reid. Art diverges from life in that Strauss' rise to stardom was much slower, taking years (and assuredly much hard work) and built by cultivating a huge following via her public art project--exhibiting her yearly work under the I-95 underpass for a full decade.

Those unfamiliar with her work can find it here: http://zoestrauss.blogspot.com/

My obsessed colleague is a fine black and white printer and his work is crisp, precisely composed; the images pop and jump; they are labors of loving perfection in the service of visual beauty, much like abstract paintings that one enjoys simply for what they do for your retinas and soul. Viewing the pieces is akin to walking into a grand cathedral even if you are not religious; you are uplifted by the grandeur. What is primarily captured is the photographer’s affection and dedication to working in the medium: photography about photography. The subject matter and the artist largely disappear. Such work inhabits the realm of the connoisseur. It's a very hard sell, especially in Philadelphia, perhaps anywhere, and requires a kind of appreciation that has to be sought out in the way one searches for four-leafed clovers. Strauss, on the other hand could have her work printed at the Walgreens down the block and people would still be clambering for it. She is not what you would call a "photographer's photographer." It's not the honing of the photographic qualities of her work that "make" the shots. She uses a DSLR set on "full-auto"-basically point-and-shoot. I don't believe she does anything but relatively basic editing and corrections in Photoshop and is not an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to the printmaking; the photos verge on snapshots.

David Shields coined the phrase "reality hunger" to describe the state of modern society. That is, we experience very little reality in our daily lives; therefore artists are consistently trying to sneak more and more reality or the impression of it into their oeuvre. In photography, the world hankers for images that take the viewer into places wherein only a solitary soul has been able to gain access, be this physical, temporal, spiritual or emotional. If the work fails, it's because it fits the ever-heard exclamation: "Been there, done that!" The ingenuity, the artfulness of Strauss's work is that she knows how to squeeze her self and her lens into that impossibly tight cranny or, more likely, give the impression that she has. By doing this she cuts to the chase concerning the core underpinnings of much contemporary photography. Journalists love to talk about her South Philly neighborhood, the characters, etc, but the truth is, everyone lives some place weird. The world is utterly surreal. It's Strauss's ability to throw her self into that bizarre world and still come up for air that makes it all tick. The mystery, and the thing to be envied as someone who too wants to succeed and navigate the snark-infested waters of the art world, is not her popular appeal but her uncanny ability, to do a kind of voodoo-like magic: the combination of internal and outward transformations necessary to make her striking images, and to do it smack in the middle of rough streets.

I've been thinking about this, of course, because of my own work much of which is more synthetic and connected to the process of photographic printmaking. As I sit at my part-time job, I have visions of hitting the streets, maybe with a Leica a la Cartier-Bresson or Gary Winogrand. I feel pulled to the work of the great street photographers and can't help but think "Yeh, this is what IT is about." Yet as I move away from daydreams and take stock of who I am, I've come to realize that a great deal of the work I’ve done up to now succeeds (I hope) because I've been able to gain access to a unique interior space within myself. As my work has progressed over the years, I'd like to believe I've become more frank and open about letting people view that landscape, as well as becoming more adept at making what is essentially invisible, visible, and therefore "real." I thrive on solitude and working with models in intimate, controlled settings, or trekking the urban landscape with a camera. So, a dilemma has arisen for me, certainly a good one and to be considered as well as acted upon. "I should grab my camera, get an unlimited pass on Greyhound, land where I may and just jump around the country taking photos," my aforementioned colleague said to me a few summers ago. I thought it was a great idea and being one that knows the future is always uncertain, encouraged him to do it NOW, to just go and ramble; take the chance. His instincts had figured out something primary long before his conscious mind had.

Photo: RA Friedman, "Broad and Tasker"

Richard Avedon

I believe in maniacs. I believe in type As. I believe that you’ve got to love your work so much that it is all you want to do. I believe you must betray your mistress for your work, you betray your wife for your work; I believe that she must betray you for her work. I believe that work is the one thing in the world that never betrays you, that lasts. If I were going to be a politician, if I were going to be a scientist, I would do it every day. I wouldn’t wait for Monday. I don’t believe in weekends. If you’re headed for a life that’s only involved with making money and that you hope for satisfaction somewhere else, you’re headed for a lot of trouble. And whatever replaces vodka when you’re 45 is what you’re going to be doing. - Richard Avedon - 1988

Jazz Age Lawn Party 07/17 and 07/18/10

It seems as if the weather rarely cooperates for outside shoots, so one must be ready for just about anything. In this case it was extreme heat. On the second day, I drank approximately five liters of fluid (mostly just plain water). Luckily the shoot was on Governors Island, an oasis out in the middle of NY harbor that is about a twenty minute ferry ride from lower Manhattan. Being away from all the cars and the buildings helped a lot. There is also a cool ocean-like breeze.

I decided this time I absolutely had to something to mediate between me and the elements. I bought a very light dining fly at I. Goldberg for this trip. I did at least open the thing up before I left, but I was not able to set it up. When I got to Governors Island, I realized the design of the thing was just wrong. There was nothing to keep the support poles vertically attached to the top. It really needed an extra set of supports. So, I cut the shock cords and made two long poles and created a kind of improvised curved shell with one end securely staked to the ground. This also obviated the need for a backdrop and holder.

The second day, I really got things down adding some breasting lines as well. I was quite pleased at how clean it looked and it also provided a fair amount of sun protection for most of the day.

Both days of shooting were quite good. The first day was brisk, picking up in the late afternoon. Evelyn Kriete styled and assisted. G.D. Falksen also tagged along and helped with the finishing of the images. Sunday, I was on my own and it was slow up until the very end when a flurry of shooting rounded out the day. I made the 6:00 ferry and hit lower Manhattan with all my gear and a bag full of wet instant film negatives by about 6:20.

I then proceeded up to my cousin's place near 60th and Broadway over land. The whole rig was too large to even think about putting on the subway alone and the taxi fare for a 6.35 mile (I checked this on Mapquest) would have killed any profit I might have made; but moreover, I hate adding to the burning of fossil fuels if there is an alternative. It was decent day for summer and the temperature had dropped to a cool 86F, so I hoofed it. Foolishly, I just followed Broadway, going through some very dense areas: Soho, Union Square, Herald Square, Times Square and Columbus Circle. The whole trip took about two hours, which is about average for human locomotion--three miles per hour.

So many people out! Many tourists and I did my best to be tolerant of them slow-poking along. I also needed to be sure I didn't nail anyone in the shins with my wide load. I did surprising well. As I traveled, especially in the Times Square area, I saw so many artists on the street just trying to scrape out a few pennies. I imagined their workday--sitting there in the hellish heat, uninvited, in a largely uncontrolled and indifferent environment and probably having to scrounge for a badly needed bathroom and having to wait undue time for relief in the waiting line.

A cool apartment with my own room and bath was awaiting me the end of the day. Sometimes we don't realize how lucky and privileged we are. My cousin, who has become a kind of "angel" to my undertakings insisted I take a cab to the bus station on the final return, which I did, but I again went over the streets on the Philadelphia end, about two miles.

Portrait pics to follow in the next few days on http://tsirkus.org

A Craig's Post and Reply

The Craig's Post:

"I am looking for a photographer (professional or not) that can teach me a thing or two. I have a nice DSLR camera and can work my way around it but there is much I still have to learn and I constantly have questions. I'm not looking to pay anyone for this but if you are someone that is eager to pass on some of your wisdom and come along side me to teach me a few things - I would greatly appreciate it. I have an eye for photography and I prefer outdoor photography but I really need to learn more about indoor photography so I don't shy away from opportunities to shoot indoors.

Hope to hear from you!"

___________________________________

The Reply:

Hi:

Here are my thoughts:

Create a list of your questions, then research them for a week or two or three and see how many you can knock off your list. Most tech. information is out there

either in books or online. I've spent time in Barnes and Nobles just perusing what they have lapping up free knowledge. Also, a lot of camera shops, like Calumet will answer tech. questions.

Once you have a kind of "hot list"--those quandaries that nobody seems to have the answers to, post it! You might try the artist's forum on Craig's since there are a lot

of photographers in that pool. Pro's are generally amenable to answering something specific.

My guess is, you'll find the tough questions, nobody really has the answers to, or the answer varies from job to job or photographer to photographer. There is no "right" answer only what works for your own work. This is the difficult and also the exciting part about photography--there is no "royal road" and each photographer really has to find their own path, do their own experiments, and find out what works. It may be that to really answer these issues it may take years of work and practice. That is, they are just a starting point.

Ultimately, photography is really about dealing with yourself and your subject matter and how you position yourself in that mix. The really successful photographers have a strong bond with what they photograph, they know it intimately, perhaps are even obsessed. The photography is just a tool and often a lonely road that can be one of the most fulfilling experiences as well. Enjoy!

Cheers,

RA

Steampunk Photography: Reinventing the Mechanical Image.

Steampunk World's Fair, May 14, Piscataway, NJ.

Forget that point-n-shoot and cookbook methods for making sepia images in Photoshop, and definitely DO try this at home!

Join alchemical photographic wizard RA Friedman, founder of Tsirkus Fotografika, for a rollicking old-school visual presentation as he discusses his unique DIY analog/digital methodology; one that has defined the forefront of Steampunk Photography. Highlights from the large archive of retro-futurists Friedman and crew have photographed will be shown, as well as studio images. Caution: contains artistic, but sometimes graphic nudity. A brief no-holds-barred Q&A will follow.

So You or Your Kid Want to Be a Photographer?

I recently received a missive from someone whose daughter, a high school senior was interested in becoming a photographer and looking to apprentice or intern. I've edited and expanded a bit.

_____________________________________________________

Many commercial photographers are not artists. Many are just good technicians who know how to make competent work that pleases the customers, which is really not all that challenging. Many make a good living and enjoy it. There are exceptions to the rule, but they appear to be few and far between.

The commercial photographer I worked for inspired me, but in a very indirect way. It was clear that the guy was a repressed poet, but he never tried to express himself even with his photography. Instead, he read Jung, Ouspensky and the like, went to all kinds of esoteric groups and had discussions that to many, including my dad, an engineer, were incomprehensible. I loved listening to him as we worked together in the darkroom, endless hours of classical music (mostly Chopin) playing int he background on a Sony reel-to-reel recorder.

Since we were photographing paintings, prints and sculpture (his specialty) the pieces themselves intrigued me, opening up worlds I didn't know existed. In terms of photography, the methodology we used was pretty stock and didn't change much. He was very skillful and had a great eye, which is not to be discounted.* I learned too from him that simple tools can give great results when used properly. As an assistant, I could almost go on auto-pilot. I continued working for him, because I liked him and his wife and it got me out of my parents' house and into NYC occasionally to work. I could leave school early, which was an added bonus.

The best education for a photographer who really wants to create is art school. The technical part can be learned from books, the Internet, or other photographers. Finding a way "in" to your work, or as one of my drawing teachers used to say "finding you work" is the main thing. I never took a single photography class, You really don't need to pay for a college course to learn to develop film. Printing, I taught myself. Even digital is really not rocket science. The hard part is the conceptual piece; positioning yourself to actually work. Ay, there's the rub.

If I had not spent years drawing and drawing, I would not be able to do what I do now. I continue to draw and still find new things in it.

I never worked for free. When I started out as an apprentice, it was 1974 or 5 (no, I'm not ancient, I was barely more than a kid) and I got $1.50 an hour. Working for free implies one's labor is not valued and there is no commitment from either end. Avoid.

The fine art photography world is pretty much like the art world. Only a handful of people are making their living off of making prints. Most are teaching, shooting weddings and babies, giving seminars, have a fall-back job or a wealthy spouse. This is not to say "don't do it," but unless one is truly obsessed, there are way easier methods to survive and make a living. The advent of digital photography has totally diluted the market and now everyone and no one is a photographer. The competition for even routine work is fierce with people even offering to do it for free (bad move). Part of why I founded Tsirkus was to find a niche and it was a natural outgrowth of my own interests. But let me say too, Tsirkus has never really made a profit. It has gotten me other gigs (like the Pew Fellowship I'm now working under) and a few other paid jobs, but it is not a complete living. I still have to do other things to make a go of it, and I'm still living in near-poverty.

Lastly,Treat all photographic chemicals as if they were cyanide. Developers are the most dangerous; luckily they are safer now than when I was first working. I know of so many traditional photographers that are now ill in their older years with Parkinson's or nerve issues, including the photographer with which I apprenticed.

RA Friedman, Principal Photographer

Photo by Man Ray, one of the pieces we photographed "back in the day." I was shocked to find it recently sold for nearly $300K.

*Some 30,000 negatives by this man, shot from 1960 to the mid 1990's are soon to be on deposit at The Library of the National Gallery of Art in Washington.

My New York City (Photo) Marathon

Photos here: Just click!

Who: Tsirkus, Liz from Design Glut, Gemini and Scorpio.
What: Amazing late night Halloween Party--Masquerade Macabre
Where: The far east end of Bergen Street, Brooklyn--Brooklyn Urban Sanctuary.
Why: Because to have missed this adventure would have been a pity.
How: You want us to give away all our secrets?
Small Miracle: Every negative made it home safely and dried nicely.
Trivia: All the equipment was wheeled over city streets from 66th and Broadway to 86 Allen Street in Manhattan on the return trip in order to avoid the NYC subway crush. Mapquest shows this as 4.91 miles.
Time taken to scan all negatives: 5.5 hours
Time to edit: ?? It's a work in progress. This is a first, having this many images to refine. Images will be added as they are edited. If you don't see your shot, stay tuned!

This was a real adrenaline rush requiring no caffeine to keep awake. Forty three frames were shot over the course of four hours at a high-energy, music filled bash in the wilds of Brooklyn.
(By way of accounting, 3 were misfires, 3 were gratis. for a total of 37 paid shots.)

RA Friedman, Principal Photographer

Dry(?) Run 09 27 09

Photo: No, it's not garbage, it's a studio on the move! Tsirkus gear, appropriately waterproofed awaits its return to Philadelphia on the Chinatown bus.

The mobility of the vintage portrait studio has been on my mind quite a bit these last few weeks. Trying to move the equipment through the New York City Subway system on the last jaunt to Gowanus back in August drove home the idea that I have to think light, modular, and easy-to-handle. Oh! and add one more adjective: waterproof! You can't tell what weather may do suddenly.

I have abandoned using a single heavy trunk as in shoots past and now have a trusty (and water resistant) Craftsman tool bin to hold the camera, film holders and film. ($19.95 at Kmart). The tripods and stands perch atop that and are wrapped up and bungied as a unit. They then are bungied to the small, foldable hand truck I use. Additionally, there is room to bungie-on one or more small bags that hold the miscellaneous equipment and supplies, including lunch. Everything comes apart pretty easily to take on the bus or get down a flight of killer steps.

The Jazz Age Lawn Party shoot on Governors Island was supposed to have been today, but the weather had been touch and go. (It's now 3pm in Philly and the Sun is out!) I knew that any notification of a last-minute cancellation was likely going to happen after I was already in transit. When I got off the bus and was all raring to head for South Ferry, I checked in and yes, the event had been nixed. Even though I did a 180 and headed right back to Philly, it was a good opportunity to shake down the new arrangement for moving the gear and it worked pretty well. Everything stayed dry and I got a chance to catch up on some badly needed sleep since the bus invariably sends me to dreamland. Hopefully, the rescheduled Oct. 4 date will be dryer.

RA Friedman, Principal Photographer