What has Bitcoin got to do with photography (Part 1)?

I’m sure you’ve all heard of it. Some of you may even own some. We’ll get to answering the question (it’s not clickbait, I promise!), however there’s quite a steep learning curve to even begin understanding the tech behind Bitcoin and the cryptocurrency space, so it needs a little introduction. Here goes…

My first real exposure to the potential of the notorious cryptocurrency started in the summer of 2020. I had opened a Revolut account to get cheap Euros and the company began offering the purchase (custody, not true ownership) of some top cryptocurrencies… so I popped £50 in and forgot about it. Fast-forward to November 2020 and when I looked again, that £50 was now £100. The money had doubled in less than 6 months. This set me off on a frenzy of information gathering (which I’m still doing), but the thing that really got me hooked on the concept was that Paypal was about to do the same thing, i.e. offer crypto to their 346 million users in early 2021. Frankly, this made the lightbulb in my head shine so bright that it singed my nasal hair. In news hot off the press, they are also soon to offer taking payments in cryptocurrencies to sellers using the service. That is certainly interesting to me as a photographer that regularly receives monies via Paypal. Nevertheless, this isn’t the intended answer to the initial question I posed… more on that later.

After discussing what I’d found with Mrs F, we decided to roll the dice and pop in our ‘rainy day fund’ into Bitcoin, just under £3K. This time it took exactly 7 weeks to double. Just read that last sentence again. I should at this point say I am not a gambler. Impulsive maybe, but I just don’t do gambling. This was the video that really got me convinced, and having disappeared down the rabbit hole, I’m now so certain that this is the future of money, that I don’t really use my bank account any more. I have Paypal, Revolut and my Crypto.com wallet, alongside my traditional bank account… guess which one has the least funds in? 

Let’s face it, governments and banks are, ahem, fucking it up. Money printing is taking place at an unprecedented rate, and the crunch is only going to get more severe post-pandemic. I read this week that we may have 0% interest rate very soon in the UK and some banks are even beginning to charge negative interest to their customers… that’s right, you’ll pay money to the bank for holding your savings, that is concurrently falling in value in real terms. Bitcoin provides an elegant solution, as there will only ever be 21 million BTC minted (currently 18M in circulation, but 4-6M of those are lost forever because of poor sods like this). It simply cannot be inflated, unlike any other store of value, such as gold.

The underlying tech at the core of Bitcoin is called the blockchain. It is a decentralised ledger of transactions that is maintained by a network of computers around the world. The most important aspect of the blockchain is that it is irrefutable and unchangeable, in other words it can be ultimately trusted. Trust can be of limited supply these days, so that is a hugely valuable asset.

Despite this remarkable invention we have at our disposal, there is A LOT of what is called FUD (fear, uncertainty and doubt) surrounding the space. But ask yourself why? Why are there calls that Bitcoin is a ‘scam’? Or that it ‘has no real value’. The Pound, Dollar, Euro etc (collectively called fiat currencies) have no intrinsic value either. Currencies used to be back by gold reserves, but Nixon ended that in the 70s. That fiat can be printed ad infinitum is the biggest scam of them all. So your £, $, Euro or whatever is dropping in value every day, so some, myself included now, see Bitcoin as a hedge against inflation. Banks hate Bitcoin as its decentralised nature is a threat to their very existence. But for the first time, every day more and more banks, and financial behemoths such as Visa and MasterCard are getting into crypto… because they have to, or be left behind. 

Beware, there are a lot of sharks in these waters, including billionaires who have been actively pouring hate on cryptocurrencies, then as crypto is on the cusp of going mainstream, finally admitting that they’ve secretly been amassing large bags of the the stuff for the past few years. It makes me feel physically sick that people manipulate others for their own gain in such an orchestrated fashion.

So there must be a downside, right? The main characteristic that sits uneasily with me regarding Bitcoin is the amount of power consumption that it uses to maintain the blockchain ledger. Bitcoin mining set-ups often use renewable energy sources (over 75% of all mining operations) as it’s cheaper to produce than fossil fuels. Nonetheless, it is a stain on the playbook. The possible silver lining is that there is a cash-rich incentive to improve the adoption of renewables, which will hopefully simultaneously accelerate innovation in the field. We live in hope.

The other unexpected aspect that has been difficult to stomach is that the ride isn’t actually as easy as you might think. With the volatility of the infant industry, you can be put through he psychological wringer. Your funds can drop by 20 - 30% overnight, although this volatility is reducing as the market matures, and with it, so are the returns. You’ll need strong hands and ignore the instinctive urge to sell when the price drops… in fact, when others are panic-selling, you’ll have to be more logical than Spock, as that’s the best time to buy.

So finally, on to attempting to answer the original question. What has photography got to do with Bitcoin? There are hundreds, if not thousands, of alternative tokens (called altcoins) alongside Bitcoin. They all serve different functions, and this is where things start to get really complicated! The area that I hope is of interest to you are the NFT coins. NFT stands for Non-Fungible Tokens, and have the potential to revolutionise many sectors, including, you guessed it, the art market. 

Firstly, what are NFTs? If I borrow a tenner from you, I don’t pay you back with exactly the same note, so money is ‘fungible’, i.e. replaceable by an identical item. Non-Fungible Tokens are a way of irrefutably proving ownership of a unique or editioned item. Currently they are often linked to digital art and can be minted, sold and resold. As the NFT is a ‘programmable contract’ the artist can even specify that they receive a cut from any resale. Where I am currently exploring this application is to have an NFT minted of the digital photograph, but specify in the ‘smart contract’ that it comes with a print. Hey-presto, we have irrefutably solved the problems of counterfeit, ownership and copyright. These tokens can be coupled to any item that you can think of… festival tickets, clothing, digital music… anything! NFTs are at a very early stage in their development, so there is still a long way to go before we see mass adoption, but I for one am going to explore getting some of my work ‘minted’ into NFTs and blog about it here in the very near future.  

Until then, I’ll conclude by stating that I believe we are standing at the precipice of a huge technological leap forward into the unknown, akin to the birth of the internet. Sadly, we live a post-truth era, yet here we have a system that provides incontestable fact. An unbreakable trust. To me, that feels like something we corruptible humans need more than ever before and at the double. 

See you soon for part 2.

Self-publishing a Zine: Part 1 - Desk Top Publishing

It’s been a while. Far too long in fact. I sincerely hope you’re all keeping your head above the water during these crazy times?! From my perspective, I’m delighted to say that things are changing around here. Now that I’ve officially set up my photographic business I intend to publish thoughts here more regularly. Let's start with a weekly post, with a Friday deadline and see how we go. Who’s in?

Over the next couple of weeks I’m going to walk you through my experience of producing and self-publishing a zine, so that you don’t make the mistakes that I did… unless you want to of course. I suspect if you’re reading this then you’re probably thinking about producing one too? There’s likely all manner of thoughts going through your head right now: Will anyone buy it? Am I good enough to do this? Do I have the correct skill set to self-publish? What should I have for lunch? These uncertainties and more fired though my brain before setting sail with the project. All I can say is go for it… zines are red-hot at the moment, and for good reason. It’s a beautifully authentic way to drag your work from the throw-away world of social media, to craft something permanent, something real, something tangible. Stepping into the unknown will always bring with it a level of fear, but from my experience, that is also the magical space in which the good stuff happens. 

From the soaring heights of conquering your fears to the bumpy landing of dry logistics, part one is going to be about choosing and using a desktop publisher. The closest experience of using any publishing software I have to date is a rudimentary grasp of those word-processing stalwarts, Word and Pages. Would these negligible skills be transferrable to make the leap up to DTP?

Hope’s Nose

You don’t need me to tell you that YouTube means that learning virtually anything is possible these days, so off the bat I scanned various videos from folk who have made zines in the past. Adobe InDesign, it seems, is the publishing industry standard, but like Lightroom and Photoshop, is offered on a subscription basis. Adobe charge £20 per month for the pleasure, but have a thrifty option which would be to get everything ready and plump for a weeks free trial instead. The problem there was that if I wanted to do a zine again (newsflash: I do) then I’d have to cough up the pennies. If it was a large part of my job to publish content, it might be something I’d consider as there’s endless tutorials about every aspect of the programme available online. But when I already fork out £10 pm to Adobe for LR/PS, waving goodbye to an extra £20 sounded expensive. Turns out it was.

A quick search around the subject and a few reviews later and I was downloading Affinity Publisher for a fraction of the price. I was super-lucky with my timing as they were running a 50% sale over the summer so picked up the app for the princely sum of £23. That’s not per month, that’s a one off payment. I understand ‘no-brainer’ is the colloquial term to apply here. Even at full price (£49), it soon pays for itself when compared with the Adobe option, and I only scratched the surface of what was possible within the programme when putting together the zine. One happy customer. 

In terms of using Affinity, I found it to be relatively intuitive even for a technological luddite such as myself. There were only a couple of times when I got to the effing and jeffing stages of frustration - something which happens on a minute by minute basis if I ever dare delve into Photoshop. Thats the real reason I don’t digitally manipulate my work (joke). For the most part, I was good to go after skimming through a 30 minute tutorial on AP (thank you Rachel). Please believe me when I say that if I was competent with the basics after half an hour, then you will be too. 

Anstey’s Cove

Starting out with a new project was ultra simple. Clicking File > New brings up a host of standard options. I’d already decided that I wanted the zine to be A5, so the dimensions were inputted automatically. You then need to choose the number of pages you envisage (I ended up adding more) remembering to work in multiples of four. Work in the CMYK colour space and don’t forget to include a bleed (3mm in every direction, as instructed by my printers).

When designing the zine, I just copied and pasted once I’d used the ‘Place Image Tool’ on the first page as I wanted most of the images to be of the same size and position throughout. If you opt for a beautiful full page spread, the image should also go beyond the page edges, up to the bleed borders. Thankfully the programme 'snaps’ these into place as you drag the image placement window to fit. For the cover design, I had opted to play with the title of the zine, You R Here (see image below) and include a pin. Again, this was straightforward to do and similar to how you’d create a shape in Word or Pages. For the colour scheme, I just played around with contrasting tones from a Wes Andersonesque palette. The yellow colour I used was ‘mustard’ and you can input the standardised ‘Colour Co-ordinates’ which were easy to Google. The dusty pink colour was one that I’d settled on from tickling sliders within the app. 

My only criticism of the programme so far is that it would be great to include a ‘create spine’ button within your document, rather than having to start a separate document and generate one yourself. In terms of the thickness required for the spine (if you are getting your zine perfect bound), it depends on the number of pages and the thickness of paper you choose, but again your printers will be able to help you here. 

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View fullsize

On to one of the most exciting parts of the entire process: selecting and sequencing your work. You may already have a project that you wish to publish, and however dreadful this sounds you’ll surely have to ‘kill your babies' in due course, or some of them at least. Be your harshest critic. I started by throwing a load of possibles into a folder then from that pool worked out which ones were the must-haves. For me, it's important to have quieter moments in the sequence; I’m just not sure you can have a book full of belters. Think of it like music, even the most banging tracks have a rise and fall. The great thing about a photobook is that it doesn’t need to be all of your best shots ever. There will be images that you’ve taken that really speak to you, but perhaps wouldn’t be ‘enough’ to stand alone as an Instagram post. Those are the photographs that are given space to breathe in a zine, and it’s wonderful to be able to give them life outside of your hard drive. 

The next step is where your creativity really comes to the fore - the actual sequencing and pairing of photographs. Whilst in all honesty, this is where it can make or break the zine (no pressure), the good news is that you already have the visual skills required, given that you are a photographer. Don’t get me wrong, there are some who seem to have an instinctive, preternatural gift in this department (Tyrone Williams and Isa Gelb come to mind), however I’ve definitely felt a significant improvement with practice, and you will too. 

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View fullsize

Some tips to help if you feel a little lost about joining up the dots: look for repeating colours, compositional shapes (including negative space), motifs and, importantly, feeling within the work. Often subtlety is key here, rewarding repeat viewings for the reader, but also consider having some pairings more apparent than others. To practice, try sequencing a carousel post on Instagram if you haven’t already. Pair up some from your archives, then come back to it later. Does it still work? Look to other photobooks and zines for inspiration - in terms of the progression of the story, which ones are your favourites and why? Sequencing and design go hand-in-hand so it’s worth contemplating different sizing of the images, some full bleed, images on both pages in some cases and not others, landscape mixed with portrait… the list goes on. All / some / none of these things can add to the rhythm of the collection when done correctly. I highly recommend this 10 minute lecture for a great analysis of some masterful sequencing. Thank you Tia.

If you’re still frustrated, take your time. Being a perfectionist isn’t a bad trait as a photographer! Weeks and months will yield results as you practice your sequencing more, and perhaps even provide you with the final image that ties the whole concept together (as Robin Friend found with his breathtaking monograph Bastard Countryside). Throughout this process, never lose sight of the overarching narrative of the piece. A story needs a beginning, middle and an end, and your zine should be no different. 

To wind things up for this week, I should mention that I was on (I think) version 16 before sending the PDF to the printers. I would export the sequence thinking it’s a wrap, sleep on it, only to then have an uneasy feeling in the morning that three or four images were not quite sitting right. Infuriating, yes, but let's be honest here, what would be the point of it all if it were easy?

Next week I’ll be discussing the printing of the zine, and how I marketed the project, with details of what it cost me in time and money. Stay tuned :)

Addendum - I have been so impressed with Affinity Publisher that I’m seriously considering giving Affinity Photo a go. I really don’t want to keep squandering £120 per year on LR and PS when I don’t even use PS. I’m freelance now, so every single penny is counted, recounted and then totted up again. If Affinity Photo was still at its sale price I’d have bitten already. Maybe it’s time for a trial? Rest assured, if I make the switch, you’ll hear about how the two applications compare here. If anyone has any experience of the app, or want to share their experience of producing a zine, it would be great to hear in the comments below.

Adventures with the Silver Halides (Part 2, Film vs Digital)

I had them in my hands: the first set of negatives from my Mamiya 7 and the scanned images on a CD. This was going to be great. Finally… real film tonality and colours in my work. I couldn’t pace home fast enough. I must’ve looked ridiculous with the negs in my hand, power-walking up the road like I was in critical need of the loo.

I fired up the laptop, thrust the disc in an waited to be stunned. 

Only I wasn’t. 

The colours were bad. I mean really terrible. I could’ve cried. 

I really wasn’t expecting to have to work on the negatives. That was part of the initial appeal of film for me… great colours out of the box. I concluded that I didn’t want to pay for someone else to do the scans only for them to come back with shitty tones… so I started to read round the subject even more obsessively than I had been. It turns out that people use their DSLRs to ‘scan’ negs, then convert in photoshop. So this is the path I initially veered down to try to get the hues more to my taste.

Two film and one digital image... can you tell which one is which? Which do you prefer?

At first I thought I had everything I required, but it soon became apparent that I needed a lightbox (the iPad screen was too pixelated, despite covering it with a diffusing plastic cover), a 120 film holder, a blower and some white gloves to handle the negs with.

After some early hints that I was on the right path (i.e. the Portra colours I had been expecting), I started to get some strange ‘vignetting’ in the shadows of my images. I spoke with numerous film aficionados but no-one had an answer. Eventually I gave up on the DSLR and forked out on a real scanner (Epson V800)… only to find the vignetting was still there when I used Silverfast!! I could’ve cried (again). Finally I tried a ‘straightforward' import with EpsonScan. I had had so many failures and false starts I was actually was shocked when it turned out fine. Surely now I was ready to begin?! Err, well no, actually. Scanning itself is a ‘dark art’, to quote my good friend Tom Sebastiano… film was proving to be trickier than expected.

As with any dark art, there is a road to enlightenment regarding scanning and colour management of film. It’s not a short path either. I am by no means an expert, but remember Tom S (he does have the necessary expertise, and his blog is a wealth of information) mentioning a magenta cast that he was noticing in some of my work. I hadn’t spotted it up until that point. Now I was seeing it everywhere. This was a steep learning curve, but with a strong emphasis on ‘learning’. I could cope with that.

Eventually I had a workflow that was beginning to produce the goods and I was simultaneously being swept off my feet with the process of using film. Heady times. Meanwhile, the DSLR was at home gathering dust.

From L to R: Mamiya 7, Portra 400 scanned at my local lab; same neg scanned with Epson V800; Nikon Df, Sigma Art 35mm

The passionate love affair was, it turns out, a bubble waiting to burst. I found myself dropping two or three rolls to be developed each week. 30 exposures and at very minimum, 80p per shutter press (£5 per roll of 10 exposures and £3 to develop). That’s ignoring the cost of professional or home scanning. Yet with each roll I was regularly only getting one usable shot… and sometimes not even that.

The final nail in the coffin for this intoxicating romance was hammered home during a shoot on holiday in Norfolk. As I was going away with the kids, I decided to only take my DSLR so I could snap away and capture some memories. On an outing we pulled into the car park at Winterton-on-Sea and there at the edge of the sand dunes was a collection of black huts that were screaming to be photographed. I got to work trying to find the best composition, then proceeded to spend the day on the beautifully wild Winterton beach. During the day I needed to get something from the car, and on my way back I decided on one last sneaky shoot of the huts, which in turn delivered the composition that worked best.

Winterton-On-Sea (Nikon Df, 35mm Sigma Art)

On reflection, I concluded that there was no way that I’d have worked the scene in such a manner with film. The cost was too prohibitive for that, so if I’d had the Mamiya I would have come home with a lesser image on the roll. Whilst the process of making an image is definitely integral to my overall enjoyment of photography, this experience is rarely meaningful to the individual who views the final photograph. Producing the best images I can is (for me) far more significant than the equipment that gets me there.

This discussion wouldn’t be complete without mention of my digital set up, the PentaxK1 and three FA Limited lenses. The K1 is a R&D departments wet-dream, with everything you can imagine packed into that little black box.  I don’t use three-quarters of all the features, but the ones I do use simply help me to make a better photo. It took about a week to set up (seriously!!!), but now that is done, I just have to turn one dial and I am ready for tripod shooting (with image stabilisation turned off, two second shutter delay, ISO100 etc), another rotation and I’m ready to snap pics of the littluns. 

The key component of the K1 is the Sony sensor within the camera. With 36MP to play with, the resolution easily bests the clarity I can attain from flatbed scanning… that isn’t to say that a drum scan wouldn’t radically improve the film files, but then we are talking much more £££. Most significantly, I find the huge dynamic range of the sensor gives me the squeaky clean shadow control of the best digital files AND the astounding highlight control of film. I can’t really seem to blow highlights, just like when I’m using Portra. I’ve had the camera for over a year now, and it’s only weakness seems to be the AF system. That isn't of critical importance for my work so I genuinely cannot see me needing another camera (note to self: don’t read this in two years time, you’ll have egg on your face). The K1 is the best camera I’ve owned. There, I said it. And it feels good. I hope you feel the same way about your set up too.

Hinchingbrooke Park 4 (Pentax K1, 43mm Ltd)

Digital is far more technologically advanced, but there is an undefinable magic to film. Same as putting a needle on a record. Everyone I know personally who uses film does so because they enjoy the methodical process of using the stuff… and I experienced the very same kick. In contemporary society, film is delightfully at odds with the increasingly instantaneous nature of our lives: with drive-through coffees and Mr Google answering any conceivable question you can throw at him. Film is tangable, film is hardwork, film is serendipity, it has personality and at times it can be frustrating. But when you get a fine shot from film, you have earned every exposed crystal of silver halide. 

Everything gear-related in photography is about compromise and you need to decide which tradeoffs you are happy to live with and fit your style best. I have come out the other side of my film adventure with a much greater knowledge of colour management and huge appreciation for those that shoot film, achieving a consistent look that digital shooters can only dribble at. But I’ve also realised that I don’t have the time (with two kids) and financial resources (with two kids) for film… at this moment in my life.

The question is, do you have the heart for film? 

Adventures with the Silver Halides

It’s something I’ve been toying with for a while. Actually, a very long while. As a ‘dyed-in-the-wool’ digital shooter I just wasn't sure analog life would suit me. After all, I’m used to the mod cons of histograms, image review and Auto ISO. And by investing in good glass I’ve grown accustomed to a clarity and sharpness in my work that frankly looks fantastic both on screen and in print. Add to this mix the VSCO Portra Lightroom presets and I surely have the best of both worlds… film-like colours with digital convenience.

Despite this I couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that I should give film a try. Simulated film presets get you most of the way there in terms of analog tonality but, to my eyes, still not close enough. On top of this, you can get some supremely wonderful pro-grade film cameras for comparatively little money on eBay… although in fairness this can be a bit of a lottery with potential pitfalls aplenty. 

Bailiff Street (Portra 400, 65mm f4)

So here are the pros and cons of shooting film as I see them:

Pros:

• Oh the colour!
• Can get a medium format rig for relatively little money, something I’m definitely not doing digitally this side of Christmas
• Colours
• It would be an educational adventure into unknown photographic territory
• Colours
• Colours
• Astonishing highlight control. You just can’t blow your highlights on colour negs it seems.
• Finally, it would be remiss of me not to mention those breathtaking film colours & tones

Cons:

• Each press of the shutter costs money
• I’ve already got a digital workflow that works and, most of the time, I get near enough to the results I want
• I’ll admit it now: I’m like a spoilt child after a shoot… I’m pant-wettingly desperate to review the results the instant I get home. I’m just not sure I could cope with the wait for film to be developed.
• Not as convenient as digital shooting
• Loss of some of the clinical IQ of digital - although depending on your point of view this can also be a pro.

To sum up, it’s essentially all about those filmic colours that are giving me the itch I can’t scratch… and no, yoghurt didn’t work either.

Despite pondering the move for some time, previously I’ve always decided to stick with what I know best. So why the leap into the unknown now? The reasons I’ve been pushed over the edge are twofold; Firstly my technique over the past couple of years has improved hugely, with the biggest jump being after the purchase of a tripod about a year ago. Therefore where I was reliant on high ISOs before, now I largely shoot at base ISO even at night so we are firmly in fine-grain film territory. Secondly, and probably most importantly, I used to return from a days shooting with 100 or so different shots on the SD card. I still often return home with about 100 digital images to process but now they are only of 6 or 7 differing subjects and I cherry-pick the best captures. I’m much better at sorting the wheat from the chaff before pressing the shutter button. Altogether this has led to a much slower, methodical pace to my shooting… a pace which, you guessed it, suits film.

So despite the potential negatives, I decided to take the plunge… and if it turns out it’s not for me I can pop it back on eBay from whence it came. 

Next decision, what system to go for. I wanted great IQ, and something complementary to my DSLR. Medium format would tick both boxes but I also didn’t want a huge camera so it looked like the SLRs were out. I quickly honed in on a MF rangefinder as it would give me a different style of shooting and the lenses are tiny, even compared to most full frame DSLR glass. 

• Mamiya 6 - Although I like 1x1 aspect ratio I didn’t want to be confined solely to that.
• Fuji (various) - From previous experience I know Fuji makes exceptional glass but as far as I’m aware their MF rangefinders are all fixed FL lenses, and I’d rather greater flexibility.
• Bronica RF645 - It looks like a wonderful camera but if I’m going MF I want the biggest negs I can get so 6 x 4.5 cm isn’t top of my shopping list.
• So on to the Mamiya 7 system. 6 x 7 cm negs. Straightforward operation. And best of all it seems to have some exceptional glass at the wider end of the scale - huge tick! The hunt was over.

Martins Yard (Portra 400, 65mm f4)

Thanks to the advice from two Flickerite Toms (Invernodreaming and Photom) and my old friend Mark Heaver (MrHeaver), I had what I needed to start browsing for the camera. Tom Invernodreaming suggested I invest in the cleanest copy I could - this sounded like sage advice as I was going to buy a camera that is 20 years old, with few options of repair if something goes wrong. Photom gave me the insider knowledge on the Mamiya (he shoots a 7ii) so I knew I was eyeing-up a fine piece of equipment. Marks tuppence, as a long time Leica shooter, was the reassurance that the rangefinder works well in low light… an important consideration for me.  When a mint condition / boxed Mamiya 7 and 65mm f4 appeared on eBay I knew it was the one. BIN :)

I waited patiently (something I don’t do well, as noted above) for the package to arrive from Japan. After being stung for about £200 import tax it took the total cost to £1150 for the set- up. I knew I could’ve got the camera / lens cheaper but it really was in ‘as new’ condition, so felt this was a fair outlay.

At last it was time to load some Portra and embark on a shoot… with silver halide.

Racecourse (Portra 160, 65mm f4)

I found the Mamiya to be simplicity itself to use. All the trappings of modern photography are absent leaving a camera with purified gestalt principles on show. In turn this virtually renders the instruction manual redundant. Once the shutter speed and aperture are set (the ISO is of course static corresponding to the loaded film speed), there is a meter reading in the viewfinder that indicates the correct shutter speed for your chosen aperture on the lens. Given that the camera employs a leaf shutter in its lenses, you can easily hand hold the camera at 1/15th second with good technique. So we have a user friendly experience that produces large negatives. Super.

Another aspect that was new(ish) to me was using the rangefinder. I’d shot a few frames on various Leica’s in the past, but never owned a RF. It turns out to be very easy to use. You just manually focus the lens until both the focus patch and the RF patch in the viewfinder align and thats it. The proof was in the pudding, with 10 exposures perfectly in focus on the first roll of negatives… well make that 7 as I had forgotten to take the lens cap off for 3 frames. As the viewfinder isn’t ‘Through The Lens’  there is no indicator that the cap is on or off and therefore you just need to build this check into your process of setting up a shot. I have gotten better at remembering this but nonetheless this is a niggling frustration I have with the rangefinder that continues to rear its ugly head on occasion. 

It is also worth mentioning that the accuracy of the frame lines usually include more of the scene than they suggest. According to the manual it is 100% at closest focus, reducing down to 83% at infinity. This phenomenon has actually led to some happy accidents, with unintentional objects appearing in the negative but improving the overall piece. Of course one can crop to the originally intended composition if the additional scenery detracts from the final image.

Abington (Portra 400, 43mm f4.5)

In terms of exposing the photo, there is a vast amount of latitude with colour negative film, particularly in the highlights, so use this to your advantage. In fact it is the exact opposite of digital photography, where highlights are easily blown but shadows can usually be lifted to reveal detail in a RAW file. When loading the film, I tend to meter / overexpose the image by a stop or so by setting the film speed on the camera at ISO 200 when I shoot with 400 film. Also I meter for the shadows to ensure there is always detail there, as I know that the highlights look after themselves. I have invested in a handheld meter (Sekonic L358), but find the readings from the cameras meter (somewhere between centre-weighted and spot) to be similar… I just point the focus patch or light meter at the darkest point of the scene and use that reading for the exposure settings. Easy.

The protracted wait for the the negs to be developed and scanned was something I wasn’t sure I’d like (I’m a child about this, remember?). Compared with the digital workflow, I am forced to defer my gratification, but that building anticipation turns out to be something I genuinely relish... and the excitement is frankly at boiling point by the time I pick up the negatives. Shooting film is an extremely enjoyable process and it’s making me a better human being. 

So what did I think when I finally received the first set of developed film back from the lab? This key question will be covered in my next blog when I’ll attempt to tackle one of the biggest photographic questions of our time: Film vs Digital… stay tuned!

Please note: This blog was originally started in 2016, but thanks to Chris Simonsen for inspiration to finish the bloody thing.