Saturday, September 23, 2017

Supper Club Shorty

I had several objectives in making this camera

  • I wondered if you can make a 120 Populist out of a single six pack carrier.  No,  you can't. I used plain black poster board for much of the secondary card in the camera interior.
  • Since I had just gone on about making a moderately telephoto camera (more on this in the future), I thought it only fair to go to the wide angle end, although it's really the same specifications as the 10th Anniversary iPhone Box camera.  I didn't edit the Populist template, I just cut the 45mm one down to this pinhole to film distance. (I probably will edit it and include it with the others)
  • I've always wanted to make a camera out of a Supper Club six pack.  It has my favorite beer slogan: "Not Bad."  It would seem that mere lack of objectionable qualities would be a pretty tame compliment, but in Wisconsin, it's actually being quite laudatory.

It has a 6x6cm image area 35mm from pinhole to film - 81 degrees; somewhat wide, but in the world of pinhole actually kind of moderate. There was only enough cardboard to go 37mm. I didn't want to go wider since I don't particularly like vignetting.

I drilled a .27mm pinhole. Mr. Pinhole says .249 is optimal.  Close enough for jazz.

The winder minder is made out of the handle of the carrier. It's already a double layer of card, and I thought it nice to feature Capital Brewery. Middleton, Wisconsin by the way, on Madison's west side.

Otherwise follow the basic recipe.  The interior is painted with three coats of ultra matte black paint.

The carton design is the same on both sides, so I shifted it down a little on the back to feature the "A Wisconsin State of Mind" motto and again, to ID the brewery.

It is pretty wide angle.  Here's the mantle and bookcases with sunbeams that I shoot with about every camera. I'm usually behind the couch to get this view, but this is from the middle of the room.

Very handy for interiors. You can get in just about the whole living room from the archway to the dining room.

The east wall of the kitchen.

Really useful when you can't get very far away from something.  The tripod was right up against a giant electrical box that I think holds transformers for the lights.

Because you're so close to things and you have to tilt up to frame tall objects, it often looks like they're falling backward. However, you can mitigate that, as I do here, getting on top of a picnic table with my new birthday-present-from-Sarah tripod that extends out to five and a half feet high.  (Did you notice it in that first picture at the top of this post?)

Of course, extreme wide angle distortion is just fun, especially from weird angles (again courtesy of the new Manfrotto)

When near the ground, everything looks monumental.

Although it often surprises me that although I commonly use what I would have called extreme wide angle cameras in my youth, I only rarely see what is often referred to as wide angle distortion in my photographs.

I know I've been deficient in using these recent cameras to do photographs relating to the theme of camera exterior, so here's a photograph of a glass of a classic Wisconsin lager.

Now that I got that photo, what am I going to do with this beer?

Pictures of the camera done with Sarah's Nikon D750. Nice camera.

The film for the pinhole pictures was Lomography 100.  Not bad.

Saturday, September 16, 2017


Gene and Laura and their dogs came from out west to visit us in Oshkosh.

Chatting in the living room.

Arthur and Bob got comfortable.

It was nice enough to go out on the porch.

Dinner in the dining room.

Brunch at Fratellos.

And when we were leaving, I attempted a handheld shot, but didn't get my fingers far enough out of the way.

All with the New Glarus Populist. .15mm pinhole 24mm from 24x36mm frame.

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Roadtrip: Aztalan

In the 1830's, the ruins of a Native American settlement were discovered in Jefferson County. The guy who did the earliest archeology there named it Aztalan after the mythic northern home of the Aztecs because, under the influence of the popular writings of Alexander Von Humboldt about Mesoamerica, he thought the mounds looked like Aztec ruins.

Although there is some evidence of occasional habitation for a long period, it was a bustling small town between about 1100 and 1300 CE  - the northernmost incursion of the Mississippian people, most often associated with Cahokia in Illinois - and then they just split and no one knows why.

The town was completely surrounded by a stockade that was covered with wattle and daub. Everything you see is a recreation.  In 1968, the mounds were re-sculpted to their original terracing and just enough of the stockade was rebuilt (out of telephone poles) so your imagination can fill in the settlement, especially when, like Sarah and I were on a Thursday morning, the only people in the whole park. This also happened to us at Natural Bridge State Park last year.

Periodically there were these enclosures that were probably defensive towers.

The central feature is a terraced mound that was constructed by humans carrying buckets of dirt.

There was some kind of structure on the top and a nice view of the whole site.

The Crawfish River which was a rich resource borders the settlement on one side,  behind a profusion of goldenrod.

If you ignore, for a second, the pre-historic aspects, it's a big native Wisconsin prairie. Wild white morning glories dot the landscape nestled among the grasses.

And some kind of snapdragon bush.

All with the New Glarus Populist.  .15mm pinhole 24mm from 24x35mm frame. 

Monday, August 28, 2017

A moderately telephoto pinhole camera

A couple things got me thinking about a camera with a longer pinhole to film distance (I refuse to use the refractionist term focal length) in the moderately telephoto range.

The first was the eclipse. I toyed with the idea of trying to directly image it with a pinhole camera. With a 24 inch camera you'd get an image of the sun almost a half inch wide. I didn't do it but I thought about it. 

The other was the problems I've been having making exposures short enough to not overexpose Tri-X on a sunny day.  The thought crossed my mind that a longer camera with a higher f ratio would require longer exposures that would be easier to time accurately.

I didn't do it for either of these reasons, it just got me thinking about it.

Nobody makes telephoto pinhole cameras.  Probably because of the high f ratios which leads to even more extreme exposure times than we're used to. The other thing is Lord Rayleigh's equations tell us the longer the camera, the bigger the "optimum" pinhole is, and although we repeatedly tell ourselves sharpness isn't a primary objective, the size of the pinhole is really what determines the resolution of a pinhole image, and most of us want a reasonably clear picture.

I have done this sort of thing before. In the 90's when I was doing my Guide for Teachers, I made 4x5 cameras 3, 5 and 10 inches long to show how that affected the angle of view and the effect on exposure times.

In my 4x5, black and white period in the early 2000's I made a 10 inch camera out of foam core.

One afternoon last week I decided to make one for 120 film. 

I had a 6x6 cm, 60mm long camera laying around that was the first prototype for the 10th anniversary Populists. (I used it for the Snowy Day pictures and the pinhole comparison post).

I cut a hole in the front of it, made a 60mm long box and a new shutter, and taped it on to make a 6x6cm camera, 120mm long.

The "optimum" pinhole for a camera this length is .462mm.  I don't mean to be too disrespectful of physics, but I decided to use a .3mm pinhole.  That sounds crazy, but I had some evidence that it wouldn't be too bad.  All the pictures above were made with the same size pinhole, .5mm, which is only optimal for the middle one, the 5 inch camera. I also did this with the foam core camera. Some of the pictures I did with that camera seemed as sharp as any pinhole image I've ever done, despite being 75% of optimum for that distance.

This 120mm long 6x6cm camera is roughly the same angle of view as those 10 inch 4x5 cameras, about 28°.

I had a .3mm pinhole in my box, probably from the bunch I made working on the pinhole comparison post. That makes the camera f400. Even using ISO 100 film, exposures are just 10 seconds or so on a sunny day. Once you start getting into reciprocity failure territory, they do get pretty long, but you can just open the shutter and go do something else.

I loaded the camera with 100 because it's inexpensive and I wasn't that confident I would like the results.

So what's a moderately telephoto camera good for.

Most obviously, you don't have to get as close to things.  One of the problems I've been encountering is that to shoot some architectural pictures with my wider angle cameras, I'd have to be standing in the middle of the street. Kind of embarrassing to be in the lane of traffic when somebody in an SUV comes around the corner while you're standing there with a tripod.  This is the side door of the Masonic Temple, a formerly very elegant structure which is now in need of a little restoration. It drew my attention because if Trump starts a nuclear war, I know where to find a fallout shelter. I wonder if they still have the cases of crackers in the basement.

The telephoto compression of space is well known effect.  When I'm using the wide angle Populist and I fill the foreground with these trees on the shore, the trees on the causeway which encloses Miller's Bay are hardly noticeable on the horizon. (If you're remembering the shot from the recent post about panoramas, remember that cropping out a small portion of a wide angle shot will recreate all the effects of a telephoto - it's the angle of view that creates the perception of space.)

Probably the most common use of this effect is in "portrait" lenses, to reduce the impact of a large schnozzola.

Very often, I'll see some abstract composition of lights and shadows and if a wide camera is close enough, the expansion of space will change the relationships of elements, and include background which detract from the design. A narrow angle makes it easier to exclude extraneous distractions.

If you do want to get a close-up, you don't have be so close you can't get your fingers in the front of the camera to open the shutter.

And you can get really close if you want to.

Another advantage with architecture is you can get as close as necessary to compose the shot the way you want to without having the camera tilted up so the building looks like it's falling backward.  In order to do this shot with a wide angle, I'd have to be about 20 feet in the air.  By the way, there's also no vignetting since the distance to the center of the shot isn't that much different than to the edge.

I have to admit that these pictures are little softer than I was hoping, and I forgot that this early prototype, made by adding flaps to the original template made the film chambers a little small, so it's a bit of a struggle to advance the film.

I think I'm going to make one from scratch.  I spent part of the afternoon extending the template to this length.  I think I'll probably drill another pinhole a little bit bigger to see if those equations really make a difference.

Friday, August 25, 2017

Roadtrip: Two one-room school houses

On a Friday several weeks ago, the day before we were going to set out for the farm (again!), I went for a bike ride in the country northwest of town. That evening Sarah inquired about where I went, and my description included going down Skeleton Bridge Road. That got us wondering where the Skeleton Bridge was, so we asked the internet. One of the search results was for the Skeleton Bridge School, a restored one-room school that was open for visits only from 10 am to noon on Saturdays during July and August. (I had ridden past it but didn't notice.) Our route the next morning took us right by so we decided to stop and take a look.

It was active from 1858 until 1957 as noted on the sign above the door.

Since these schools served children from about age five to about thirteen, each row of desks got successively larger.

The smallest children sat at a table near the windows.

Hosting visitors were two gentlemen who had attended the school in the 1940's.  One of them was the owner who spent years trying to acquire the place as it faced removal or conversion to a residence. (The one-room school Sarah's mother attended is now someone's home). He had remained in the area all his life.  He did most of the restoration himself and somehow tracked down many of the actual items from his school days, many of which were bought by his schoolmates' families when the school closed.  He gave us a very short (hence the underexposure) performance on the school's piano he had learned to play on as a child.

It's hard to imagine this little wood stove could keep the room warm through Wisconsin winters. We were told how they would go ice skating on the nearby creek during recess.

By the way, it's Skeleton Bridge School and Road because it's just next to the bridge on Highway S over Dagget's Creek, originally known as the Skeleton River because early European settlers found human bones in it.

Since I spent my career in what is now called Learning Technologies, but which was Audio-Visual Communications when I started, it was interesting to see the technology they had - this wind-up record player, on which we heard the William Tell Overture. The little doors on the front were how volume was controlled. Without any sort of electronic amplification, it was surprisingly loud with them wide open like this.

Somewhat ironically, the site also includes the owner's collection of classic cars. The red 1967 Mustang was the first, which he had bought new.  The pink 1956 Thunderbird with a turquoise interior was Sarah's childhood dream car when she saw one exactly like it on a family shopping trip to Minneapolis.

The earliest and by far the rarest is this Ford Model S from 1908 just before the introduction of the more well known Model T later that year.

The reason we were so interested in this visit was because Sarah attended a school like this for one year before it was closed in 1957. Her father and grandfather went there and her great-grandfather probably helped build it in 1885. Originally on the corner opposite her family farm, it was moved to the Pierce County Fairgrounds, complete with her brother's initials carved into one of the desks.

It's open only during the Fair, which coincidentally was happening while we were there. Unfortunately when we went there on Sunday, no one from the Historical Society showed up to open it.

All with the New Glarus Populist. .15mm pinhole 24mm from 24x36mm frame.