Manic Expression Writ Large

Every time I get something out of the freezer, a box of 220 format film with four rolls left, is facing me. I loaded specially light-proofed Morton again without any plan. The camera sat for several days. I went to the Farmer's Market early, and on my way home, determined to pick up the camera and go back. Once begun, it turned into a sort of episode of Manic Expression, but with generously sized negatives.

The eggs from Heim Farms are a variety of colors in each dozen, so it's always a treat to get one out of the refrigerator. Some are almost as blue as their booth.

 

A few years ago, a young man from Pickett Farms recognized me, from having seen me go past his fields during my pandemic fit of bicycling, and freely conversed about the vegetables. Some weeks, though, it seemed he didn't know me. It was months before I saw the twins together.

The regular busking accordionist told me he was from Munich. He was the subject of one of my favorite long exposure transformations from an early classic episode of manic expression.

A violinist saving for a trip to Costa Rica. I've been trying to utilize the camera on a lowered tripod, which is really handy in a crowded environment like the Farmers' Market.

All politics is local. Selling low-cost brats with mustard and sauer kraut in front of the precinct maps at the Democratic Party.

A solo shredder playing a fingertap riff. 

One of the Art in the Alley Festivals was occurring behind Main Street. I had seen this young woman with noticeable makeup and dress earlier before I had gone back with the camera. She agreed to be photographed and asked how to pose. I said to be just as she was. "I'll just go back to my journal then."

The band in the morning performed what sounded like very political, very rapid rap.

A couple selling Socially Suspicious t-shirts. It's cropped off, but I'm pretty sure that's the slogan. Google equates the phrase to paranoia, but, grudgingly, several bullet points down, admits it could refer to the less judgemental social or neurodivergence. Is it just me, or do those electrical meters read 5555 vertically?

Another expressively dressed artist. We talked about my attempt to photograph people more often. She invited me to photograph at her music venue in Whitewater. "There's lots of interesting people there."

This potter and I discussed the speed the wheel should be rotating for the long exposure, but it really doesn't matter since it's all radially symmetric and except for his hands, it could be still.

I was aware of their presence at previous Art in the Alley events, but I didn't know that Punk Rock Saves Lives was a charity promoting blood marrow donations. I'm not sure it was with dismay or relief when I read the agreement that said I was two decades too old for the program. Another conversation about where to look. I was recently in a book discussion about Richard Avedon's interaction with subjects, standing next to a view camera. I realized I was doing the same thing. They gave me a sticker, and I gave them my card. She teaches in the biology department at the University and had heard about my involvement with supporting ed tech there. (More likely someone complaining about budget cuts since then.) 

The only other person within two decades of my age. He started painting in 2007 and just got hooked.

An opportunity and encouragement for everyone to make art. We agreed I was already doing that.

After lunch, I visited the Peaceful Patriots weekly event, this time held in Hiker's Park, a more bucolic background than Opera Square, but maybe more traffic. Former colleague Al Lareau expressed the week's theme of voting rights.

This activist has appeared with her peace sign in some of my posts concerning the protest events of the last year. She got it when she was ten years old. I never noticed until I was spotting dust on this photograph that it has clock hands.

The show continued into the afternoon in the Art Alley. The second band was just two pieces, with a transportable-looking pedal board and a cool retro guitar.

The sound guys, with only six of their sixteen channels in use. The bands sounded good. My dream is to play with something like this where they just turned up the vocal mic instead of asking me to turn my guitar down.

There was some boppin' in the crowd.

I ran out of steam with four frames left. 

This month for the Fox Valley Photography Group, Giles La Rock 3D-printed bodycaps for their digital camera for anyone who signed up, and I drilled the appropriate pinholes. 

The plan for the meeting was to all go out and take pictures with the bodycaps. I had decided ahead of time I was going to handhold the Nikon D750 no matter what the exposure.

I'm always attracted to the sunbeams streaming through the library windows. I set the film camera up in my shadow in one of those beams and tried to photograph it with the digital camera on my knee while the exposure occurred.

I made five digital pictures during the two-minute exposure.  This is the closest I got.

Back to film. The lift bridge over the lock channel is just outside the door. The camera could go in the shadow of the street lamp to get the backlit structure without the setting sun overwhelming the scene.

A classic vintage automobile in front of a historic building at sundown is always worthy of a frame of film.

The angle of view of the D750 with the body cap is 41 degrees compared to the film camera's 90. The Mustang from almost across the street with the DSLR. I learned the best way to compose was to hold it up to my face like I was using the viewfinder, although I couldn't see anything through it. The narrow angle was hard to get used to.

A sunset landscape attempt with the Nikon.

Digitally recorded stairs down to the parking lot

These outside pictures were handheld for half a second at ISO 6400. Unlike my practice with film, it took five or so frames to capture what I wanted. I'm thinking of taping some sighting triangles to the Nikon to see if that works the way it does on my other cameras.

One frame of film left. Bobbi Hague, Giles La Rock, Mike Vanevenhoven and me, the Fox Valley Photography Group Pinhole Collective. A kind of painterly Dutch Renaissance portrait, but woefully underexposed and digitally manipulated. I just wanted to be transparent about that. 

The body caps for the others are in the mail. Looking forward to seeing what's done with them next month.

Morton has hand-drilled .23mm pinholes, on the axis and 11mm above it, 30mm from a 6x6cm frame. The film is Kodak Pro 400 MC, expired in November 2000, developed in a Cinestill Powder C-41 kit.

The Nikon D750 Bodycap has a .27mm hand-drilled pinhole 46mm from a 24x36mm sensor.

From Photo Opp to the Olde Oneida Bridge

Just two weeks after a similar event, Photo Opp hosted another photo walk. This time, at their home base in Appleton, because they were being featured on an episode of the podcast Negative Influence with Justin Allen. That attracted a larger-than-normal group, particularly of folks new to Photo Opp. He must have a good listenership. While the introduction and tour took place for newcomers, I set off with several regulars. They were headed for the Flats, the industrial area along the Fox, which I briefly passed on a previous Appleton photowalk. I was equipped with 60mm Paterson the Pinhole Camera, 67 degree angle of view, for what I expected to be architectural views from across the street, and the Diversity 30, 90 degree angle of view, for everything else, because I'd just done some maintenance on it and I'm very fond of the design.

It was relatively late on a sunny summer evening. My first stop was for the low light streaming through the trees in City Park.

I caught up with the group three blocks later at College Ave. I knew that the western sun would be raking the shiny new Trout Museum. Friday night traffic was busy on Appleton's main drag. Conveniently, the cars waiting at the top of the Drew Street hill would be just out of frame, and those given the green light on College weren't even close to getting recorded in a several-second exposure.

I caught up to the group, and we walked down the hill together. Despite being on a driveway leading to a parking lot on a weekend when school wasn't in session, I had to get out of the way of several cars, apparently failing to close the shutter before moving.

The group was about to turn onto the bridge a block away, but I stopped again for the shadows on one of the buildings of the historic Ravine and Rag Mill, now the Lawrence University Power Plant.




The tower of the Ravine and Rag Mill. The rest of the three paper mills have been renovated into fancy apartments. I wonder if somebody lives up there?

The Lincoln Mill across Olde Oneida Street.

The Fox River Mill juts out into the river.

There's still a channel between them, but I don't think the river flows through it anymore.

There's a private terrace for the residents, which seems to be a popular spot on a warm Friday evening.

Not sure what these doors were for, two stories above the Fox.

I hadn't seen my group since they turned onto the bridge, and discretion indicated it was time for the return trip. I decided to go up a stairway that I wasn't sure where it led. Halfway up, stopping to take a long-exposure pinhole photograph seemed a good idea. The turnbuckles keeping the cable balusters taut stood in as a subject.

The view from the top. Google Maps describes this walking route as "mostly flat."

The back of the YMCA is across a parking lot from the top of the bluff.

I thought this was one of those ghost murals until I saw the date.

A large blank wall decorated with a mural and some lights and wires.

It's in a back alley that goes through the Y.

The back door of Brokaw Hall, which is quite Academic Georgian from the other side.

I don't think I meant to feature the sign so prominently. This was another situation where despite the back alley and slow speed limit, I kept having to move when vehicles approached. Dehydration might have become an issue by this time as well.

I encountered the group I had left with on College Avenue, but they were gone again when I stopped for the ironwork and plantings on the sidewalk.

The Trout Museum and the Lux residence hall of Lawrence University atop it from the other direction. The sun hasn't set, but it's gotten less contrasty. Think they named it that because there's light up there longer?

The door light in the gloaming shadows caught my eye. (Gloaming shadows!? Where did that come into my head from?)* I had a similar experience on the other side of this church, the last time we photowalked from Photo Opp.

Everyone regrouped on the steps of Photo Opp while it got dark. There was one frame left. After noticing the two young women to my right had been in conversation for some time, I casually opened the shutter, despite the now quite long exposure. As if the shutter were a remote control, one of them said, "I guess I have to go now." There was some shifting as goodbyes were expressed, and she leaned into her purse for her keys for a few seconds.

Paterson the Pinhole Camera has two .30mm hand-drilled pinholes, on the axis and 13mm above it, 60mm from a 6x6cm frame. The Diversity 30 has two .23mm hand-drilled pinholes, on the axis and 11mm above it, 30mm from a 6x6cm frame. The film is Kentmere 400 semistand developed at 1:100 with some really old Rodinal that has some solid crystals rattling around at the bottom of the bottle.

*editorial tip-of-the-red-pen to typist-gadgeteer-philosopher Joe Van Cleave and his unedited train of thought approach, after editing this post for two days.