101/365: A retirement of sorts

Yesterday's posting of the pillbug photo completes my final project for Advanced Traditional Photography. It's quite a nice series overall, and there are way more negatives that I simply didn't have time to develop. A big reason for my success in that class rests with the Canon Elan 7ne camera I used. It is a very nice camera body, well-designed, light, comfortable to hold with a host of nice features built into it that compares well to modern DSLRs. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it is the predecessor to the hugely popular xxD line of semi-pro camera bodies from Canon. In fact, it does the 40D/50D two better--it is compatible with Canon infrared remote triggers, which came in very handy for my macro work--and boasts a late incarnation of Eye Control Focus. I played with ECF when I first got the Elan and liked its potential. When ECF is on, the photographer simply looks at what he or she wants to focus on through the eyepiece, and the camera tracks this movement and correlates that with the nearest focal point. Sadly, this wasn't useful for my macro project, as I had to contort myself at odd angles to focus (which confounded the eye-tracking sensors) and then usually relied on manual focus anyway. But it's a fun option I'd rather have available than not.

But, like it or not, the Elan is going into semi-retirement. I've got nothing against film, but I seriously doubt I'll ever set foot in a darkroom again. Digital offers a host of advantages over analog film, and as I didn't originally learn photography using film, the tactile romantic nostalgia of film doesn't have much of a grip on me. That's not to say I won't ever shoot film again--we've got a large-format Crown Graphic I hope to get in working order sooner or later, and the Elan itself is just fun to shoot. But I won't be developing my own film, so I'll need a high-quality negative scanner, etc. So the Elan is going up on the shelf for now, a well-deserved semi-retirement. It has served me well.

Camera: Canon 7D
Lens: Canon 100mm 2.8 macro
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And so ends the latest higher education adventure

Today I presented my final finals project--and I mean that in the literal sense, at least until some day when I venture forth to try my hand at earning a masters degree somewhere. I'll share my efforts for "Intro to Digital Photography" directly, but suffice to say the experience I had with this class helped convince me that further university coursework in photography failed the cost-benefit analysis. I went into the final project with a B average--a high B to be sure, but a B nonetheless. The only way I could earn an A would be to get a grade on the project higher than any the prof'd given out this semester. I hate not being in control of my own destiny. To make matters worse, I felt like I'd earned an A several times over. Such is life.

On the other hand, I finished with strong As in both my other classes--Intro Drawing (which proved to be both the most time-consuming and most exhausting course I've ever taken) and Advanced Traditional Photography. I just finished sharing my Karl Blossfeldt-inspired final macro project here, and I'm still pleased with the results in hindsight. Yes, there are some I wish I'd have gotten better prints of, but overall it's a solid body of work. As part of the final project, we had to write a paper on said project--not quite a research paper, nor a straight artists' statement--of no less than 750 words. Those who know me know that I can barely sign my name in 750 words or less, so while other students were counting conjunctions and articles while attempting to pad their papers out, I was topping 1,600 words and looking for material to cut. I got an A on the paper as well, but it's strictly class assignment stuff, nothing to write home about. Still, it gives some insight into my approach to the Blossfeldt project, so I present it here as a historical footnote of sorts.

Blaschke by way of Blossfeldt
Advanced Traditional Photography 3361
by Jayme Blaschke

Karl Blossfeldt (1865-1932), the German photographer who profoundly influenced macro as well as fine art photography in 1928 with his landmark volume, Art Forms in Nature, ironically didn't consider himself a photographer. Nor did he pursue photography as an art form. An enthusiastic amateur, to Blossfeld photography was merely a tool, a means to an end, and he used it as such. The fact that the images he so painstakingly created over a three-decade period were–and remain–jaw-droppingly beautiful is a happy coincidence, and one I am personally grateful for.

As a photographer, I have many influences, many photographers of greater artistic vision and skill than my own who I greatly admire. Ansel Adams is one, of course, and Peter Lik is another obvious choice, as I deeply love breathtaking landscape photography. Less obvious are photographers such as Robert W. Wood, Simon Marsden, Elio Ciol and Martin Reeves (especially Reeves) who have done great work using the infrared portion of the spectrum. This appeals to my inclination to photograph that which can't be seen. I am drawn to the unusual, the obscure, the path less traveled. Blossfeldt appeals to this part of me–shooting what isn't visible–as his macro photography undeniably opened up a world normally invisible to the human eye in a way that proved both original and timeless.

Blossfeldt possessed an innate artistic instinct, the ability to see elegance and beauty in nature where perhaps none before him had done so. Also possessing a nearly stereotypical German determination and dedication to efficiency, he could not merely create art for art's sake. There needed to be a greater purpose behind it, and for Blossfeldt, that purpose was education.

The son of poor farming parents born just before German unification, Blossfeldt did not enjoy the privileged life of German aristocracy. At age 16 he left secondary school to apprentice in a metal work shop, creating decorative cast iron for architecture in distant Berlin. As a boy, he'd spend hours in the countryside studying nature, and his lifelong love of plants served him well in the metal shop. He relied on his keen observation of plant forms to inspire his designs, and his original patterns and forms soon created a demand for his work. His talent was apparent to everyone who came into contact with him, and mentors arranged for him to attend an art academy in Berlin.

Blossfeldt's photographic career began around 1886, and true to form, it came about as an expression of pragmatism rather than artistry. One day, the art academy director visited Blossfeldt's drawing class and carefully examined a detailed sketch of a many-faceted dragonfly wing Blossfeldt had created. Instead of heaping praise on the young man, the director dismissed the details as "hocus pocus." Distressed by the director's refusal to believe the drawing was accurate and life-like, Blossfeldt stayed up all night creating a blown up photograph of the dragonfly wing to prove his point. This tenacious determination alone would be enough to make Blossfeldt my photographic hero, regardless of the quality of his photography. I strongly identify with this obsessive need to prove himself when dismissed by others, and have applied it to my photography as well as other endeavors in my life. I would not go so far as to claim we are kindred spirits–I do happen to enjoy creating photography for the sake of creation–but I do understand at least a tiny part of what makes him tick. In any event, this technique served him well in later years when he became an instructor at that same academy.

As Blossfeldt had years before while apprenticing in the metal shop, the art academy relied on the forms of plants to instruct and inspire its students. To this end, the school maintained an extensive collection of dried specimens for reference. The collection took up a great deal of space, however, and proved very fragile and impractical to use. As an instructor, Blossfeldt hit upon the idea of using photographic references instead of the actual plants, and created a homemade plate camera with an extendable bellows that allowed magnification of subjects up to 45 times. He converted his office at the academy to a makeshift studio and dark room and devoted himself to photography in order to make himself the best teacher he could possibly be.

Blossfeldt made macro images of plants he'd find on many excursions to the German countryside and beyond in his classes, examples he presented to architectural and design students, showing that all of the various styles and inventions of humanity had already been well-tested by nature. I intend to approach my subject matter in a similar fashion. I have dabbled in macro photography over the years, but never in a formal setting. I've never planned, never prepared for any macro shot until this course. I find myself emulating Blossfeldt in several ways on this project, first and foremost, developing a predatory eye for interesting plants and other subjects. Whereas Blossfeldt prowled the German countryside, I find myself slamming on the brakes whilst driving down a Texas farm road, because a stand of Texas thistles has just burst into bloom. Or parking in a no parking zone on the Texas State campus, because the perfect red yucca specimen three levels up in the planter caught my eye. Or combing through the thorny branches of huisache trees in order to find the perfect feathery blossom. I have carried home more dirty, twisty, spiny, thorny, bristly and bushy plant matter in the past month than I ever thought possible. And here's a secret: Once you start looking at the world this way, you can't turn it off. Even with my project complete and my prints finished and in the box, I still find myself collecting bits and pieces to save for future shoots.

Despite the similarities in our methods of collecting subject matter, the conditions under which Blossfeldt and myself are taking our photographs are quite different. Blossfeldt worked in his academy studio using diffused natural light–sunlight either from above or directly in front–which necessitated extremely long exposures for the high magnifications and narrow apertures he photographed his subjects with. The slightest breeze would result in unacceptable blur in his images. Although other macro photographers of the time used artificial light, Blossfeldt did not. He eschewed impressionistic photographic techniques. His goal was not to impart any emotional quality to the subjects. Instead, he preferred stark, even clinical representations of his subjects to isolate the forms. First and foremost, Blossfeldt considered his images as teaching aids.

I, on the other hand, am benefitting from the convenience of modern technology. While my studio setup is pitifully makeshift compared to Blossfeldt's, it did serve my purpose and give me the ability to leverage my available equipment to its maximum potential. The "studio" consisted of two pieces of left over foam core, one wrapped in foil to serve as a reflector and the other with a sheet of black felt tacked to it to serve as a background. I used a kneaded eraser to support larger, upright subjects, and used four-inch head pins with a dab of rubber cement to support smaller subjects suspended against the backdrop. Primary photography was accomplished with a Canon Elan 7ne 35mm camera, with test shots completed with a Canon 7D digital SLR. A Canon 100mm 2.8 macro lens was used exclusively, occasionally coupled with a Vivitar 2x telextender. Unlike Blossfeldt, I had no aversion to artificial lighting, using a Canon 580EX II speedlite on perhaps 90 percent of my photos. Off-camera lighting was aided by Cybersync radio triggers.

In the end, I have created a portfolio of macro work that is both formal and aesthetic. Despite the influence of Blossfeldt and obvious visual cues, my work is distinctly separate from his. In fact, out of the dozens of prints I made in the darkroom (and the hundreds more shots I took that I never developed) a grand total of one vaguely resembled the imaging and print style of Blossfeldt, and I stumbled across that quite accidentally rather than by intent. And, to my knowledge, other than that initial dragonfly photograph Blossfeldt used to plead his case to the art academy director, he never used insects as subject matter, whereas I find them equally fascinating–and in some cases far more alien–than the engrossing plant matter I have shot. Despite my working in the 35mm format, I believe I have achieved a high degree of sharpness and detail in my images, revealing much of what is not normally seen. In choosing a black background for the majority of my images, I have intentionally opted for a high-contrast image, one that is eye-catching and presents the elements of the subject in a pleasing and striking manner. Seeing the unseen excites me, and I have accomplished what I set out to do. This final project constitutes the best macro work I have ever done, so much so that I am now looking into acquiring extension tubes and focusing rails with which to continue my macro explorations and take my future work to the next level.

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100/365: Pillbug

Of all the prints that made up my final project, I believe this generated the most interest. A simple pill bug, or, as others call it, a rolly-polly. Why the interest? I think because it is so common and therefore instantly familiar, yet fascinating and strange because people rarely see this humble creature in so much detail. And even blown up a hundred times larger than real life, they're still kind of cute, aren't they? My son is obsessed with pill bugs, so I think I'll frame this one and give it to him to hang in his room.

Camera: Canon Elan 7ne
Lens: Canon 100mm 2.8 macro with Vivitar 2x telextender

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99/365: Empty flower seedhead

I'm not entirely sure what flower this empty, dried seedhead came from (sunflower perhaps?) but there's no denying it sure photographs pretty when given strong side lighting with reflector fill. Simple, yet effective.

Camera: Canon Elan 7ne
Lens: Canon 100mm 2.8 macro

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98/365: Giant Leopard Moth caterpillar

The kids found this Giant Leopard Moth caterpillar on the back patio, and I knew I had to include it in my project--if only to add more insects to the mix. Unfortunately, the impressive orange-and-black of this fat fuzzy didn't translate very well to black and white film. It's once case where digital color looks much better.

Camera: Canon Elan 7ne
Lens: Canon EF 100mm 2.8 with Vivital 2x telextender

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97/365: Seedhead III

This is the final image of my seedhead triptych, and what really attracted me to this particular plant. The star pattern formed by the individual pods was quite intriguing. Very dramatic and unusual. I really like the set as they fit together.

Camera: Canon Elan 7ne
Lens: Canon EF 100mm 2.8

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Friday Night Videos

It's no secret that I love me some Traveling Wilburys. When their first video hit MTV back in the days when music videos still played on MTV, I was stunned. "Handle With Care" did a slow-burn reveal of quite possibly the most star-studded supergroup that ever existed. Amazingly, the songs they produced didn't sound like they came from a so-called supergroup. They were down-to-Earth without a hint of ego--understandable, I suppose, since this song originally started out as an ad-hoc B side for a George Harrison single. There's also a rare extended version remix of this song out there as well that I can't recall ever hearing before. Not quite as perfect as the original, but I always enjoy different takes.

Previously on Friday Night Videos... The Divinyls.

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