Reviving the Polyfoto

One day I was pondering Muybridge and what to do for a photoshoot with our newborn, Amelia. Setting up an elaborate spread of trip wires and cameras seemed somewhat premature particularly as the outlay on the DSLR had been a relatively significant one, health and safety issues needed to be taken into account particularly as they pertain to the small child if not moreso with regards to how they might apply to parents working on far less sleep than normal, and it wasn't as though she were moving in a great hurry anyway.

We'd already purchased a red velvet textured cloth and a black cloth prior to Amelia's arrival knowing they would probably come in for something useful and hopefully something photographic at that. Striking upon a not at all novel idea, but one that none the less was sure to prove fun in the undertaking, we came up with the opening image to this entry. I'm sure even the intercession of the hand was lifted from elsewhere, but I do forget entirely where for the time being.

Upon submitting the result to one of an increasingly shrinking number of online photographic fora I subscribe to, one of the members mentioned that it reminded him strongly of a Polyfoto he had in his posession.

1954, East Ham, London

5/- (5 Shillings) was charged for the initial sheet of 48 images

Extra would have been charged for individual reprints and enlargements

I was immediately enchanted by this mode of presentation and intrigued in equal measure by the method that lay behind it. Here was not merely a series of individual images of a toddler, each one compartmentalised in time, but a collage of individual moments tightly knitted together in one energetic whole. Amidst individual frames that might indeed have been selected for showing the toddler at its best, smiling or laughing or at least looking in the right direction, all manner of nuances creep in to the overall result that might within other context be left in the photo wallet or deleted from the memory card. Here they mingle with and breathe alongside the traditional keepers to establish a rhythmic encapsulation of an elongated moment in a person's life.

Finding cohesive and coherent information on the Polyfoto proved to be difficult with only a few mentions here and there online and the odd image reaching the surface of a plethora of eclectic archives.

Image courtesy of David Quick

Daniel Meadows has produced a highly engaging online movie which may be viewed at photobus.co.uk. Ed Buziak pays hommage to the importance of the Polyfoto and all forms of photographic record of the family in his blog. Some examples from the 1950's are on display at the Science & Society Picture Library Web site. Sue Limb relates her childhood Polyphoto experience in an endearing article. A couple of larger scale scans of Polyfotos are linked from kingskill.com. Last but not least another particularly nice example can be found in David Quick's Flickr photo stream.

My search culminated in the best manner possible however when I stumbled across Colin L., a former employee of Polyfoto in England, since emigrated to Albany in Western Australia. Colin kindly agreed to share of his memories and also of some fine examples of the Polyfoto form, thus it is with pleasure that I hand you over to him and his delightful story in his own words and pictures.

My start was as Lab Boy for Dufay film doing all the jobs no one else wanted. When the film manufacture stopped in 1959 and because the company had been taken over by Polyfoto some years before I walked into a new job working in the dark rooms.

Polyfoto for many years was the household word in the UK for portraits. In over 250 cities and towns Polyfoto studios could be found. What set Polyfoto apart from other photo studios was the price and how the pictures were taken. Polyfoto studios used a plate camera that took 48 images just under 1 inch square. Exposed plates were wrapped in black light tight paper and dispatched to the factory for developing.

The cameras were of Danish design and made under license in England. Made from cast metal and very large the size was about 8 inches thick and 2 foot square. It was so heavy a normal tripod couldn't be used so special stands were used. They were a bit like x-ray camera stands used in hospitals.

This camera took one single 5 x7 inch glass negative for each sitting. The first thing done before any sitting was in the dark room the negative plates were loaded in light tight film holders.
On the top of the camera was a small door where the film holder was inserted but before any pictures could be taken a cover slide on the front of the holder was removed and all was ready for the sitting.

All the studios were very small and the background was a standard light grey with no flash lighting but 3 or 4 incandescent lamps always placed in the same place on the floor so each studio had the same standard set up. Also on the floor were distance markers with the same numbers used on the focus ring of the camera.

A normal sitting would go like this.

The camera is loaded and the lights turned on, the person being taken would sit in front of the camera, the photographer would check they were in the correct position by viewing through a small window on the side of camera, then a board with studio prefix and sitting number was placed beside the person (this was on the first exposure only) and all is ready for the first exposure. On the side of the camera is a small hand wheel. This was slowly turned. The first thing this did was trip the shutter and the first picture is taken, then as it was slowly turned it reloads the shutter for the next exposure and moved the negative along one space. As the exposures are made the photographer points to where the person should be looking. After the first six exposures a button on the top of the camera pops up and as it is pushed down the negative moves down for the next six pictures. As soon as all 48 pictures have been taken the cover slide was reinserted and the negative holder could now be removed form the camera, ready for dispatch.

The Polyfoto factory was a large double story building located in a village north of London. All production was on the ground floor with office and storage on the upper floor.

Photography has changed over the years. When I started it was all manual. Then things became automated. It wasn't that far back the first one hour labs started. Now the whole world has gone digital and any photographer can work from home using the home computer.

In the late 1950's it was a different story. Very few 35mm cameras were on the market and most people would still be using roll film medium format cameras using black and white film. Very little colour film was taken (hand coloured prints were still very much the main choice for many people). Once the B&W film had been exposed it could be processed at home or many chemists had a D&P service. Once developed the film was printed not as 6x4 as all the labs print today but as small same size contact prints and the high street photographer could still make a good living.
The bottom rung on the ladder for myself was dogs-body in the negative processing department. Monday and Tuesday were always the busy days. Outside the negative processing room was a long bench and as soon as the first post arrived this bench would be covered in boxes of negatives. Each box had the details from a studio and the total amount of negatives in each box. The boxes were quickly sorted into piles of not more than 36 negatives.

The dark room was a about 20ft x 15ft. Down one side was a bench for loading the film racks. Under the bench was the storage for the film racks and at one end a very large bin for the fixer crystals and a vat of developer replenisher along with chemical testing equipment. The developing fixing tanks were in the centre of the room. Each tank would have been about 8ft x 2ft and set in a water jacket plus a small stop bath tank. On the other side could be found wash tanks and on the opposite wall drying cabinets.

You entered the darkroom via a light trap. When developing the film the only lights were just a couple of very dim dark green safe lights. It also had normal white lighting but the only way these lights could be turned was by using a special key.

The first batch of neg boxes were lined up on the bench next to a dry developing rack. The racks were made of stainless steel and had slots for each neg and a handle each. The developer temperature was checked and a timer pre-set for the required developing time. Out went the lights, the boxes were unwrapped and the negatives slid into the racks. About 10 to 12 racks would have been loaded for each run.

Then processing would start. The first rack would be placed in the far end of the developing tank and given a good dunking and the timer would be started. Then one by one all the other racks would be added. As the developing continued each rack in turn would be given a shake up. As soon as the timer bell sounded the first rack was removed, placed in the stop bath then the fixer and then the same for all the others.

The white light could be turned on in 5 minutes or so. The next job was to tally up how many plates had been processed and replenish the developer. By now this first batch was fixed and transferred to the wash tank. Iodine was used to check the fixer. A test tube full of the fixer was mixed with a few drops of the iodine. If it looked clear the fixer was fine but if the change was milky the fixer was no-longer any use and dumped, not down the drain but to a silver recovery machine. The last stage before drying was a wetting agent bath. This stopped any water marks.

In 1950 the Polyfoto darkroom only printed in black and white. Although a colour lab was started after some years, during those far off days black and white prints were still hand coloured. The printing dark room was very large at one end with a small bay for chemical storage and racks for negatives waiting for printing. In the centre of the room sets of china sinks were arranged in blocks of four. Each printer would have two sinks. In the first one would be a couple of metal processing trays, one for the developer the other for wash (stop bath). The other sink was for the fixer. Then running down each wall were the enlargers on one side - fixed focus enlargers for printing the 48 proof sheets - and on the other side De Verre enlargers (custom made just for Polyfoto) for printing individual frames. Also there was half a dozen small reflex type of printers that weere used for printing passports from paper negatives.

The 48 sheet fixed focus enlargers - from memory there could have been 7 or 8 of them, each one mounted on an metal frame - looked like a large wooden box with a lamp. This was a cold cathode type that gave a very blue light that was left on all day. It had a 10-15 minute warm up time so the first person in the darkroom each morning would turn all the machines on. On the top in the front was an orange plastic window (so the light would not fog the paper) and slide for the glass negative. On the side was a small lever that removed an orange filter so the exposure could be made. On the base was the easel that held the paper. Placed at one side of each enlarger was a paper storage safe.

As soon as the room lights were turned out and the safe lights turned on the printer would sit at the enlarger with a pile of negatives on the side and the paper safe would be opened. The first negative would be placed in the tray and pushed into enlarger. The orange filter would be turned to the open position and the image could be seen on the easel. The printer could estimate the required exposure time and the required grade of paper. No meter was used; just the printers knowledge of negative density and contrast! Then the easel would be moved about until the image was in the correct position and the orange filter turned to the closed position. A sheet of bromide photo paper was taken from the paper safe and placed in the easel, the filter opened and without any timer the exposure was counted … 1 2 3 4 … after the required time the filter was closed and the exposed sheet was placed in the bottom of the paper safe. Anyone who has done any printing would have made test strips. This was not the case working in the Polyfoto dark room. You could make one test at the beginning of the day and that was all. After the batch of negatives (about 40 negatives in each batch) had all been exposed it was time for processing. About 10 sheets were developed at a time. As soon as all had been developed it was time for the next batch. The required rate for the 48 proof sheets was 30 per hour. Once the prints were in the fixer this was the last the printer had any thing to do with them. Washing and drying was carried out in the next department.

The machines used for individual enlargements made by De Vere were bolted to the wall. The base board could be lowered for large prints. Just under the base board were two wheels that controlled the magnification and focus. Linked by chains,, the lens panel and negative carrier could be raised or lowered. The negative was held in a movable carrier because only one image was projected at any time. The carrier could move in all directions. Next to the negative was a glass plate with all the numbers 1-48. As the negative was moved so would this plate. The frame number would show up in a small port hole and viewed by a mirror. The same type of paper safes as used by the 48 sheet printer were used by the custom enlargement guys, the only difference being the bromide paper was cut in several sizes.

1/4 plate 5x4 inches

1/2 plate 6x6

1/1 plate 8x6 10x8 and 12x10

For exposing the paper the lamp was turned on by pressing a foot switch There was no orange safety filter as on the 48 sheet machines but these enlargers had two globes, a normal white one for the exposure and the other was red. What the printer did was put the neg in the carrier and find the frame required then press the foot switch and the white light would come on, adjust the size etc. then removing his foot from the switch the white light would go out and the red one would be switched on, placed the paper in the easel then pressed the foot switch for the exposure.

The 48 sheets where projected and never contacted printed but a change of camera was made in the 1960's and for just a few weeks contact prints where used.

After the batch of negatives had been processed the printer would take them and place them in a cubby hole located in the wash and drying room. Also the printer would tell the person who was in charge how long the prints needed in the fixer before washing.

This was a nice and bright place but very warm. Down one wall banks of washing basins would be full of swirling water. Each bank of sinks had three basins. A jet of water entered from one side and as soon as the basin was full it automatically started a siphon phase. Once the prints had been washed drying was carried out on large gas heated rotary dryers.

The other thing done in this room was sepia toning. Polyfoto used the name 'En Vouge' for toned prints. The process was very simple. The wet washed prints were place in a tray of bleach. This was a mixture of Potassium Ferricyanide and Bromide. In this bleach the image would become very light and change to a shade of yellow. The prints received a short wash and the next stage was the toning. This was done with sodium sulphite. You would also know when someone was toning because of the bad smell from the sulphite, just like bad eggs.

Once dry the prints were checked for exposure, contrast and any surface damage. Rejected prints were sent straight back for re printing. Custom enlargement would next go for retouching. The 48 sheet had a decal edge. This was done using a metal cutter and an old fashion shoe machine (its role would have been cutting out leather parts for shoes). With this machine 20 or so prints could receive the decal edge at the same time.

Don't forget this was in the days before resin coated papers. In the late 50’s portrait photographers would use medium to large format and in most cases the negatives would be retouched but because the image used on the Polyfoto system was so small the prints were retouched rather than the negatives and dark marks could be scraped away using a very sharp blade.

Any print that needed colouring was first sepia toned. This made the colours look brighter. Many colours would not work if applied on the black and white image but were fine on the brown toned one. The colours came in two types. The first was water based. It was mixed with gum arabic and kaolin that was sprayed on using an air brush. The other type was a transparent stain that was brushed on then sprayed with gum.

Once the gum was dry the prints were mounted in folders, not the slip-in type photographers use these days but dry mounted. The process was that on the back of the print a sheet of shellac coated tissue was attached using what looked like an over sized soldering iron. The paper was tacked on the back of the print then trimmed and placed on the mount and the corners were tacked. Then it was into the press. Heat melted the shellac and pressure bonded the surfaces. A final check was made then into an envelope ready for dispatch.

A few facts (being nearly 50 years ago some of the names may not be 100% correct):

glass negatives were made by Kodak, type P303, just under 5X7 size

Negative developer: Kodak D76

Negative fixer: hypo crystal from Johnson of Hendon

Print developer made for Polyfoto in bulk by Johnson of Hendon

Paper: Kodak bromide and Gevert cream colour bromide paper

48 printer lenses - Taylor Hobson, about 8 inch focal length

Custom enlargers - De Verre Lenes Rodonstock 40mm and 70mm

Each studio had its own prefix – e.g.: 'LE' was Kensignton, 'AB' a large store in Oxford St.

The working week was 40 hours and pay in 1959 as lab boy was about 3 pounds per week. The rate for printers was just over 12 pounds plus at Christmas time a bonus was paid. Each print size had its own target rate. For the 48 sheet it was 30 per hour. The bonus rate for 48 sheets was just 1 penny per print for extra prints over the target of 30.

The original factory was located at the North London town of Stanmore. It was later relocated to the Hertfordshire village of Boreham Wood. I have no idea when but feel it could have been in the very early 1950’s. The factory entrance was quite a land mark in those early days being on part of the Dufay film site. The original entrance next to the old post office in the main street had large gates and on each side columns. The main features were two large cement spheres. By the late 1950’s the entrance had been relocated and what was a once grand statement was redeveloped into a row of shops .The Polyfoto double decker bus was a common sight around Boreham Wood. Sign writers had covered it in extra large 48 sheet prints and adverts for special deals that were on offer. A good thing about Polyfoto was the fact that the management looked after its staff. Production targets may have been strict and the pay not that good but you got other perks. The Polyfoto bus, besides being a mobile advert, was also staff transport. After the move from Stanmore many workers stayed with the company. The bus would pick them up each morning and take them back in the afternoon.

With hundreds of studios all over the UK the funny thing is there was no studio in Boreham Wood. The nearest was at Watford and some time later one opened at Barnet.

Around 1967/1968 Polyfoto was on the move again. This time the new home was Watford, but from this point on I haven't a clue what the outcome was. I guess it must have closed down, but when?

Lens Lust and the Psychopsychology of Consumerism

The above is a photograph of some Autumn leaves in front of a pathway leading through a graveyard to a church. Let me emphasise that as a fundamental if somewhat self-evident starting point. Well, it was self-evident to me when I snapped the shot and has been self-evident ever since.

If I might subsequently indulge you in what may appear to be an unrelated anecdote, I recently came across the following plea for help in an online photographic forum:

I'm now dealing with 8MP and I have realised I'm obsessed with sharpness. Im' actually looking at 1:1 crops of images on the web taken with a 500mm L series prime lens and saying "well it's not totally sharp" ... as if somehow that's actually so important it will stop me getting a good image if by some amazing fluke I could actually afford a £5000 lens! It's a bloody nightmare!

On one level this merely struck me as a succinct example of what I've encountered more times than I care to count.

Have you ever found yourself frustrated by the notion that the photographs you take would be better if only you had access to some better kit, in particular a better lens? Have you ever felt yourself distinctly agitated, locked in internal battle with your conscience, fighting the growing urge to purchase a new lens (or indeed some other item of photographic gear)? Have you found yourself in this position knowing in your heart of hearts that it isn't critical to the successful and enjoyable pursuit of your pastime? Having seemingly despatched this urge have you found yourself overcome as it rushes you from the side and holds you in a soft reassuringly warm and fuzzy stranglehold over your computer keyboard obliging you to submit your credit card details? Have you taken receipt of a lens (or other such item) through the post and quickly hidden it from a partner then subsequently produced it from your camera bag in a nonchalant manner as though you've had posession of it for an age? Have you lied when asked how much it cost?

The bad news is, you are ill. The good news is, you can recover. The first step on the path to recovery is to admit to yourself that you are ill.

The seemingly inconsequential yet somewhat intriguing news is that you are male, in all likelihood. Why do cartoons seem to portray women and only women in the guise of pathologically compulsive consumers?

It is also very likely that you are a member of at least one online photographic forum.

Engaging in such online fora is often akin to popping in to one's local hostelry for a relaxing draught of ale and some friendly banter only to have a series of primary alcoholics pressing their faces into your direct field of vision (and scent) and rambling on about how great it is to get drunk on this stuff. Really drunk. Really downright rollicking drunk and bawdy.

Furthermore, if you yourself are prone to alcoholism albeit perhaps in its secondary form, what are you doing in the first instance entering such a place and imbibing of essentially what is a drug you are suffering a burgeoning addiction for?

Additionally beware the fact that online fora have amongst their ranks the employees and agents of camera equipment manufacturers. They are easy to spot. They are the ones that post in the guise of enthusiast and consistently promote the virtues of top quality glass. If they are enjoying their glass so much why are they not out using it and how come they seem to post a great deal more in the way of words promoting such kit than posting images that they supposedly captured with it, and when indeed they do post images, is the content any more interesting than that posted by others with glass of purportedly lesser quality? In fact, what are you looking at when you scrutinise sample images from a lens? Really, break it down. What is it exactly you are looking at? Is this what photography is about?

Those that are not employees and agents of camera equipment manufacturers (the dealers, peddling their wares to innocent kids at the photography school gates) are merely ill (the addicts). Sorely ill. The best you can do is to tell them they are ill and hope that they accept this diagnosis as the first step on the path to their recoveries. Reassure them that you also were once ill, and as have you, they too can recover.

Three step plan to combat lens lust:

1. Stop scrutinising the fringes of your photographs and stick to looking at what the photographs are of.
2. Either avoid online photographic fora or if you can't bring yourself to do so, use them to discuss the content of images, not edge definition, and when tempted by Satan's accolytes into engaging in such discussion, help them to see the error of their ways.
3. Buy a really cheap camera with an objectively appaling lens and set yourself the task of taking some really memorable photographs with it.

On this latter note I always find that a great antidote to pathological lens lust is to buy (and use) a Holga and contemplate, amongst others, the award winning press photography of David Burnett.

As the adage unfurls, if you need to ask how much a Holga costs, you probably don't have any loose change in your pocket.

Preconceived Images

It doubtless requires no justification to claim that this is the single most profound event that can take place in a person's life.

At least, to date, it is the most profound that has been experienced by myself and I cannot entertain any notions of it being overshadowed by anything else.

I now understand a great many things I only felt I understood before, and none of those points of understanding can truly be done justice to through words, on which note: maybe this is what the sharing of images is about.

We'd hoped and planned for a 'natural' birth, with images in mind of the warm embrace of a water pool, soft music and low key lighting, the lot. Maybe moreso I hoped for a natural birth and mother was somewhat more pragmatic in her thinking. Men have the luxury of wishing to see nature follow its course as we are rarely dealt so harsh a hand by mother nature as the female of our species often are, be it the onset of menstrual cycles at puberty or indeed the pain inherent in an otherwise overwhelmingly beautiful process, that of giving birth.

Do, if fate calls for a decision, bear in mind that nature is actually a dispassionate force lacking in volition that can and often will manifest itself cruelly. We should respect nature - truly we must respect her if we are to survive as a species - but we needn't always comply with her unspecified wims. Medical science is driven by all manner of volitions and in the best cases will manifest itself with compassion.

After countless hours of touching upon what I could only describe as a manifestation of Hell on Earth we opted to circumnavigate the wims of nature and took the route of medical science. I might actually forget the screams that emanated from my wife's body for hour on end as we sought to avoid taking a route we, or at least for certain I had felt would be the more cold and sterile. I think I am already forgetting the screams and that's why I feel compelled to write this now, before I forget forever. I will however not forget, ever, how she looked once we changed course, the medical team intervened, and the effects of the epidural came into play. From that point onwards we were able to engage in the concluding process of procreation in a manner we might more likely always feel a warmth for.

Certainly in our case medical science provided a far warmer, compassionate and enjoyable avenue than mother nature could that day.

All of it was worth going through though, the pain and the fear included, for the end result. And that's not something that's solely simple for a man to say, mother feels exactly the same.

She is the hero of this tale and baby is living testament to her bravery.

Originally published 20th January 2006, two days after delivery, at baby.grow

For the occasion I used:

An Olympus XA loaded with Fujicolor Press ISO 800 colour negative film. An Olympus XA2 would probably have suited just as well considering the opportunities for focusing with the XA's rangefinder were limited. The Olympus was chosen for its inobtrusive and relatively silent qualities which proved ideal during the initial several hours of full labour.

My digital SLR with a Zenitar 16mm lens attached. The somewhat more unwieldy and noisy camera bore its own particular strengths which came into their own post-delivery.

No words suffice

Extreme Cropping
Discovering the story within the story
Some people profess the pure and noble desire to get everything right in camera. Others of a more morally flexible nature don't feel so honour bound to commit themselves to a story carved in stone. People of such an ilk might equally not be so inclined to set themselves the challenge of achieving fifty consecutive press-ups but only one handed, of cooking a cordon bleu meal but without electricity, of generating the sound of clapping but with just the one palm. Granted getting exposure values right at the capture stage is a plus but what about when it comes to factors such as composition and perhaps more particularly, cropping?

There's nothing wrong per se in purist pursuits unless such pursuits inadvertently lead to the suffocation of something that deserves to come forth, and sometimes plain old fashioned fun alone might be sufficient justification for such deservedness.

Such simplistic seemingly antithetical standpoints aside, what camera viewfinder shows 100% of the image area anyway, and who says all stories have to be told within the confines of a 3:2 aspect ratio frame? Film makers have exploited the power of post-production editing as a means for honing story definition or indeed redefining it altogether since the inception of the cinematic form and indeed photographers have done likewise both in the darkroom and on the cutting board.

In honour of such traditions a bit of fun and a great deal of learning might be had in the practice of post capture cropping, and why not push it to the extreme while you're at it? Even if you'd rather maintain your integrity and get everything right in camera (though hopefully the subversion of your photographic value system is imminent!) some experimentation with post capture cropping might well provide you with a better understanding of the same process in camera.

Taking the opening image above as a starting point, how many different 'stories' might be contained within the same frame, how many different and varying connections might be waiting to come to the fore, how much flux might be directed and moulded in a seemingly static image?

Try the same exercise with one or more of your photographs and see what it might teach you with regards to story telling through composition. The resultant output can also make for interesting album material, printed out at 6" x 4" with white borders of varying size and thickness the pictorial effect can be quite engaging.

Persistence of Vision

Persistence hunting is a method that sees hunters pursuing their prey, often for hours or sometimes for days on end, until it either dies from exhaustion or becomes so weakened it is a trivial matter to catch it. This may seem like a bizarelly single minded approach to hunting for food but amongst contemporary cultures where the approach is still practiced there is statistical evidence of its phenomenal success rate compared to other methods, and many anthropologists argue that persistence hunting played an important role in our evolutionary development as it placed us in an unparalleled position of selectivity.

In a more geographically localised example of persistence, Saxton Pope in his anthropological tome Hunting With the Bow and Arrow marvels at the efforts of a native North American Indian.

"Another prominent feature of Ishi's work in the field was his indefatigable persistence. He never gave up when he knew a rabbit was in a clump of brush. Time meant nothing to him; he simply stayed until he got his game. He would watch a squirrel hole for an hour if necessary, but he always got the squirrel."

What approach do you take to hunting down the goals of your photographic sustenance? Do you meander about with no fixed prey in mind seeing what you might stumble upon? Do you fling youself headlong into a herd of potential image making opportunities hoping that amidst the confusion you happen to come out with something of digestive value caught in your teeth? Or are you prepared to focus on your chosen target and pursue it for hours, for days, or if necessary for years in order to capture it?

Ever since I first experienced a Mute Swan taking off from a body of water at Throop Mill in Dorset, I have known that I will go hungry until I manage to capture an image fit to encapsulate the sheer power and grace of such an occurence. I keep returning to that same location knowing that one day, surely, I must find myself in a position to close down on my photographic prey. Eventually I even invested in a lens with a longer reach to ensure I could maximise the compositional impact of the kill.

One day I was there and a swan chose the moment to take to the air.

And where was I when this happened? Over a barrier snapping away at some random doves, some rushing water, some rusted machinery, none of which were feeding any deep rooted photographic desires within me but they did give me something to chew on idly while the swans were content to just get on with their seemingly interminable rounds of bottom feeding and preening. The best I could manage was to hoist my compact rangefinder aloft and shoot over the heads of some bypassing ramblers as the swan powered past me on the other side of the barrier.

Through lack of persistence I had merely caught a glimpse of my target and stirred my hunger all the more painfully.

If we look at the contact prints for films shot by the likes of Cartier Bresson we see image after image of the same subject that is of no great significance, then some that are almost there. Then we see the singular encapsulation of the moment that becomes an image of enduring notoriety. Such images were not captured through adopting a scattergun approach to image making or through merely pottering about seeing what fate might offer us. They were captured through the persistent hunting down of a vision.

I will catch my image of a swan taking off, even if it takes me years to do so.

An example of the benefits of persistence - Leopard images courtesy of Serena M.
Further reading: The Energetic Paradox of Human Running and Hominid Evolution

Showtime
Something has been showing up on the radar for the past nine months and it looks like it's due to land, maybe tonight, so it's time to prepare for a new subject of snapshotgraphic desire!

The Tao of Snapshootism

I am a snapshootist, a snapshotographer. I subscribe wholeheartedly to the ethos of snapshootism via the practice of snapshotography. I am at peace with my art. It wasn't always so.

There was a time that I was so passionate about photography I forgot to seek out passions in what it was that I actually chose to point the camera at. The chosen subject that day, that minute, that second was merely a third party to the interplay between myself and my camera, a hanger on, a go between playing gooseberry in this relationship.

As a photograph is so indivisible from its subject, how can the photograph project passion when such is the condition of the photographer? Surely he should frame and display his camera instead!

I found my salvation in a box full of old family photographs resurrected through a death, a funeral and a family gathering. A plethora of poorly composed technically compromised eclectic and meandering snapshots communed with my soul and fulfilled a hollow yearning inside of me in a manner that the singular mechanistic self indulgence of my ongoing photographic approach could never hope to match.

I unleashed a passion for memory, to embrace it and capture the distilled essence of its smell, its taste and its form, a passion that has underpinned all my photography, all my snapshotography, since.

Snapshootism is not about the resultant quality of a photograph. It has at its core the nature of the relationship between photographer and subject, one in which the camera is merely a third party to that relationship. Indeed the resultant photograph might well be imbued with undeniable quality, such is what comes with experience and technical ease and poise, but most critically the snapshootist does not shrink away from that primary and virtuous relationship, that exploration of the passions linking photographer with subject, in cases where command of the mere third party, the camera, is not yet as mature as the relationship it serves to record.

Do we sometimes overlook such passions, such inherent soul, in approaching our landscape shot or capturing our macro image? Are we engaging in capturing an image of something or merely engaging in the act of photography?

Whatever type of image maker you perceive yourself as being it might be time to admit the snapshootist inside of you back into your photographic life.