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I'll leave you this year with a party.  Not the last day of the year, but the last day of the semester - The Good Friday Scholastic Colloquium. Originally started by a biologist in the '70s who currently holds the title of Esteemed Mixologist for U-Club, since his retirement the colloqium has been organized by an archaeologist, who also serves as mixologist at U-Club, although without the title.

It's a movable event, but usually is held in the combination Anthropology Department student lounge/seminar room/storeroom.

Refreshments provided by the attendees. The historian on the left related to me that one of the most memorable experiences of his education was building and using a pinhole camera in a junior high school science class.

This year it took place on a snowy night so the attendance might have been a little sparse.

Myself, the organizer, and one of my former employees closing out the event.

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

A few from the Evil Cube.

I mentioned previously how I was given permission to photograph inside the mansion at the Paine Art Center, not only with a tripod, but also behind the velvet ropes. Although I had been planning to make a camera like this for a long time, I finally built it for this project.

The building is oriented in sort of a northwest-southeast fashion and they don't open until 11:00 in the morning, which means nobody ever sees half the rooms with sunbeams through the windows. They gave me leave to come in as soon as the staff arrives to try to get those. Unfortunately, the day I showed up there had been a last minute event scheduled and the place was in an uproar and several of the rooms were being rearranged to accomodate the event.  On top of that it was cloudy, and in most of the places remaining available had 45 minute exposures.

I did get several exposures with the Evil Cube.

Mr. Paine's spectacles and stationary set on the desk in the bedroom.

The sun did shine momentarily and all the activity was on the first floor, so I could get an exposure on the main stairway.

I was a little too picky about the weather after that and didn't get there again before my son's wedding in Massachusetts. Here's the one shot I got the chance to get of the happy couple after the session with the pro photographers.

When we got back both Sarah and I experienced an epic cold, and by the time we recovered from that the Paine was in the midst of setting up their extravagant Nutcracker in the Castle exhibit, so I decided to put off the project until they returned to normalcy in February.

That left me with the rest of the roll to amuse myself. There are alway scenes I return to again and again, and the sunbeams in our living room is one of them.  If you look at the molding at the top you'll notice one impact of having a film advance that requires loosening the supply side and then taking it up with the other spool.  I apparently didn't pay close enough attention to making sure the film was tightly wound and still had a bit of a curve.

A bit later the sun rose a bit higher and illuminated the candles in front of the fireplace and the lantern echoing their color.

As I sit at breakfast in the kitchen, I'm looking into the dining room, so I'm often tempted by the sunbeams on the table.

This copper leafed square bit of chair rail between the basement stairway and the dining room door often captures my attention but it's not someplace that's conducive to leaving a tripod there for an extremely long exposure.  Sarah bought a Nikon D750 this summer, so I thought I'd make some use of it by blasting the flash off the ceiling about 25 times. That seems to have worked, but not quite as interesting as the natural light.  Or maybe it's just an illustration of my political leanings (sigh).

Global warming has extended the flowering season in Wisconsin well into December, but it was the end for these pansies when the first snowfall caught them.

And lastly, me apparently working my head off writing out Christmas cards.

All with Portra 160 in the Evil Cube. .29mm pinhole 6cm from 6x6 cm frame.

Panoramic Oshkoshiana

Once I fixed the clicker of the Oshkosh Populist, I reloaded it to explore it's mission to document Wisconsin's most level county.

A good part of the reason it's so level is that at least half of it is covered by water. I started with a bike ride and stopped at this spot on the causeway on the Wiowash trail over Lake Butte des Mortes where there's a large colony of water lilies.

Leaving the trail at Highway S, I rode back over Hwy 41 on Sunnyview Road to document the biggest hill in Winnebago County, the Landfill. (The highest natural point is a ridge about fifteen miles southwest, almost in Fond du Lac County.)

I've always had a little trouble staying within guidelines, including my own, and if Jeff Bridges can use a Widelux everywhere he goes, I didn't think it would be a problem to portray the entire width of the back porch.

The Oshkosh Saturday Farmers Market is a major event each week and one of the delights is to get a giant bouquet of flowers that the Hmong farmers seem to specialize in, and who says you can't do closeups with a panoramic camera.

But back to the original assignment.  A few blocks from my house is a former industrial area that still includes a few manufacturers, but mostly distributers and warehouses. This one reminds me of one of Pinhole Day colleage Lena Källberg's Swedish Facades series. I have no idea what First Supplies are.

Where an old factory was torn down not too long ago, a mini-storage unit replaced it and this featureless facade with clapboards that you'll have to zoom in to see seemed like a good choice for the panoramic treatment.

Unlike many rivers that towns were built on, the Fox River's valley is so gradual that you would hardly notice. Here's the entire stretch of the north bank of the Fox between the Ohio/Wisconsin Street and Jackson/Oregon Street bridges.

Turning to the left, thinking of fellow LUMPer's Earl, Marv and Tom, here's the Wisconsin/Ohio Street Bridge brilliantly lit by the morning sun. (you might notice the Mercury Marine Engineering Lab there on the left of the previous photo and the right of this one)

The Paine Lumber Company built a series of six identical townhouse buildings in the 1920's just south of the factory for their employees. They are now all each painted a different color.  I was surprised to find that a single unit was the right aspect ratio to fill my frame.

Halfway between the University and my house is East Hall field, formerly the site of an early dormitory, but now the site of soccer, rugby and softball fields and this stand of giant Oaks along Jackson Street.

And finally, you can't get any flatter than Lake Winnebago.

All with the Oshkosh Populist. .26mm pinhole 35mm from 24x72mm frame.

Let's all give thanks for tripods

June 2019. When my university retiree account disappeared with a new change in policy, the pictures I uploaded to this blog while logged into that account disappeared. I'm working on fixing that but it's going to be at least a summer long project. 

The contribution your camera makes to how you can express yourself with photography seems to be widely recognized, but in pinhole, so dominated by exposures too long to be handheld, tripods are a critical aspect of determining what you can and can't do. It's not impossible to take pinhole photographs without one, but it will definitely limit your options.

Even before I was involved in pinhole, I was attracted to images that were close up and ergo required small apertures (remember extension tubes?) or in lighting conditions that were too long to hand-hold, and multiple minute exposures were not unknown.

I got my first tripod shortly after I started seriously pursuing photography in the early 1970's. I no longer have it. (full-disclosure, I got this image from ebay).  It was a Vivitar 1600 or something, I think.   It wasn't a bad tripod. It was a little wiggly at full extension, but plenty stable enough for the consumer SLR I had at the time.  It's biggest problem was the one-way tilt mechanism.  It's one of the those Murphy's law situations that where you're on an uneven surface, the camera needs to tilt the other way to get it level. Adjusting one of the legs is always an option, but that's a really slow cumbersome process.

It's weakness was in the locks of the legs. They had levers with some sort of compression mechanism and once they broke, were unrepairable.  A tripod with one leg that just slides in and out is pretty much unusable.

When I outfitted the new college AV department I was hired to run, the local camera store recommended a Davis and Sanford Reditilt. I was pretty happy with it. The one I got for the school was silver, but when I replaced the Vivitar, I went with a black one for myself.

This thing is really solid. I once used it with a wooden antique 8 X 10 inch portrait camera. It tilts on both axes in either direction.  It actually tilts over a little over 90 degrees so if you're tilting a 35mm camera over for a vertical, you still have a little play to correct for a non-level surface.

The locks on the legs are rotary compression fittings so I don't think you could break them.  The camera is attached to a little brass fitting that slips into a hole on the top which is then locked by a bolt.  It not only makes it easy to attach the camera, but if you're switching between tripod and handheld, it works like a quick-release. Over 25 years later, I lost it for a short while, and the local camera store had one in stock!

For those 25 years, it was the only tripod I had. Eventually one of the legs got a little floppy, but that was easily fixed with a lock nut from the hardware store.

It's the tallest tripod I have. It extends to over five and a half feet. The only disadvantage is that it's pretty big and heavy. It's minimum height is almost three feet.

When I got seriously into pinhole, I wanted to photograph plants closer to the ground and get closer to things in my south kitchen window so I went down to local camera store to get something smaller and bought what I think was the cheapest tripod they had.  None of my cameras weigh more than a couple ounces, so I wasn't concerned about a sturdily built device.

Collapsed, it's only a foot off the ground, but it has six section telescoping legs. That seems to give a lot of adjustability, but there are issues. The stops are these little ball and socket affairs which, in this case, means you have to pull just about the whole leg out, and then individually adjust each segment to get the the height you want or when you want to collapse it back down.  In addition, the ends of the segments are pretty sharp so there was often a bit of finger pinching.

It also has the same sort of one direction only tilt head, which again, is inevitably the wrong direction to get the camera level.

The camera is attached with a quick release adapter which has one of my pet peeves – you need some sort of a screwdriver to attach it.  You'd think I could remember to put a coin in my pocket, but inevitably, when I need to attach or remove the camera, I don't have one handy.

In one of my summer children's workshop, they broke the handle off the elevator mechanism, somehow lost the tilt lever which also served to lock the forward and back tilting and recently one of the sections lost it's little ball bearing and won't lock.  It's still workable, but kind of a pain to use.  I guess you get what you pay for.  It was easy to travel with and was what I took with me on that transformative trip to Florida that got me going with 35mm.

Of course one of the the things that got me really hooked on the Populist was that I could just stick it in my pocket and carry it with me everywhere, but you still need something to support it so you can adjust the pointing at what you want to photograph, so I bought a small, folding desktop tripod. It's the support I've used with almost all of the road trip photographs on this blog (and f295 before that).

This is the third one I've had.  I had one fall out of my pocket while riding my bike to work one winter which I found in pieces next to the curb the following spring and then one of the legs came off the one I bought to replace it.

My current version, this ProMaster, is actually the smallest one I've found. A key feature is the way it folds flat.  It's only 2 x 4 x 3/8 inches so it will fit in almost any pocket.

It does have extendable legs so it adjusts up to 7 inches.

It doesn't always sit on a flat surface.  Just as often it's held against a wall, tree or post, or held against a railing or chair.

After I lost that first one, I did buy another desktop tripod, but it doesn't fold flat, weighs nearly a pound and is sturdy enough to hold a professional DSLR, so it doesn't get used for pinhole much, but it's real handy to hold my iPad (with adapter of course) when we're having Facetime conversations with Andy.

Handy as my little desktop is, it is limited, and in some situations, at home, in the garden, at Mosquito Hill, I don't mind carrying something a little bigger. My main workhorse is this Bogen/Manfrotto 76B.

It's almost the ideal compromise between size and portability.  It fits in my backpack. It extends out to over 5 feet tall, and with 5 leg extensions and an elevator it is adjustable for about any height. The ball and socket head is locked with a button built into the handle, so it's really easy to point.

The locks are levers that all point in the same direction and can almost be flipped open in a single motion.  I'm not sure how they work, but after 10 years of heavy use, they are still very positive to lock and unlock, and show no signs of loosening.

At it's lowest, it's about 16 inches, but the legs can unlock to spread out further, in two steps, until it's almost on the ground. In addition, the elevator can be reversed so you can put the camera underneath the legs and get it right to the ground, which coincidentally just today I saw illustrated by my Pinhole Day colleague Lena Källberg on Facebook (I think hers is a slightly newer model)

I rarely use that function though. When I want to get that close to the ground, I usually just lie it down the ground, sometimes adjusting it up a bit with a bit broken branch or my foot.

If I have any quibble with it, it's the screw type attachment to the quick release adapter, but the slot is wide enough that I can use my keys if I've forgotten to put a coin in my pocket.  Another very minor problem is that it's got a knob to switch from video to photo mode which seems to get accidentally switched to the video mode, but it's easily switched back.

Although it's not designed to hold a lot of weight, for at least two years before my knee surgery it also stood in as a cane that allowed me to continue walking up and down and around Mosquito Hill.

Several people have commented to me about the oddness of the primitive nature of my cameras and the relatively high tech appearance of the Bogen/Manfrotto tripod. That got me poking around on eBay for a vintage tripod that might match my cameras better.

As I was planning for the trip to my son's wedding, I ran across this Susis tripod from what I think is about the mid-century.

For the wedding, I wanted to take something that would be a little more unobtrusive than the Bogen/Manfrotto, but also gave me a little more height  than a desktop tripod in case I got the chance to use it for a wedding portrait.

It's just over eight inches high and it folds flat like my little Promaster. Not small enough to get in a pants pocket, but not too big for a coat pocket.

It's got nine leg extensions which bring it up to three and a half feet, high enough for a full length portrait.  It's the same round tube with the ball bearing locks as my old cheapo, but it's much smoother to extend and if you release the top catch, all the sections collapse pretty smoothly, without finger pinching.

It was a buy-it-now for only about twenty bucks, and when I received it, I discovered why. I was having trouble getting some cameras to attach tightly, and while futzing with it, discovered the plastic part at the top was slightly cracked when I actually broke it in half.  A few drops of superglue and a bit of the pinholer's friend, 3M #235 tape,  and it's good as new.

In addition, it just looks like the kind of tripod that goes with a formal suit, and I did get the opportunity to use it to get the portrait I was hoping for. and a few other shots on that trip

At the Artscore Summer Colony in which I did a pinhole workshop, I got into a conversation with the director of the Paine Art Center, and wondered if I could get permission to take pictures inside the mansion with a tripod. He not only said yes, but gave me leave to go behind the velvet ropes where visitors are usually not allowed.  I got to thinking that it would be a little rude to other visitors to have a tripod sitting in the midst of the period rooms, but it might be pretty cool if I had a tripod that was contemporary with the early twentieth century building.

So again on to eBay, and with the help of Sarah, who is a particularly victorious shopper, acquired a wooden Eastman Kodak tripod which I think was made from 1896 to 1915. It's not the most sturdy thing, but I imagine it was designed for folders and box cameras.  It folds into a nice rectangular configuration so it's actually pretty portable.

It has four leg segments and extends to a little over four feet.  The locks are thumbwheels which have seen better days, but, with care, hold the segments tight enough to support my four ounce cameras.

One weird thing I'm not used to is that the legs just flop around and don't automatically hold the tripod straight up.  It is possible to hold the camera up, but this struck me as a little dangerous if I was going to be using it in a museum around some pretty valuable decorative artifacts. I was familiar with surveying and astronomical tripods that had a three segment chain that restricts the spreading of the legs, so I fashioned such a device out of a bit of brass chain from the hardware store, and three binder clips (so useful as clamps when gluing paper cameras together), which clamp onto the top lock.  I was feeling a little odd with my modern kluge until I looked up binder clips and discovered they were invented in 1910, perfectly contemporaneous with the tripod!

The legs only had pointed spikes at the tips, and that also seemed like a problem on the antique carpets and polished stone floors of the Paine mansion.  I got some little self adhesive rubber feet from the hardware store and actually got the little pointed ends to penetrate, but every time the leg was collapsed, it would knock them off. A little more good old 3M #235 to hold them on and prevent the bottom section from sliding all the way in and I had a reliable, less slippery solution.

It didn't come with any kind of adjustable head. I suppose you could adjust the pointing by moving the legs around, but that's probably not going to happen. I initially bought a mid-century ball and socket head, but if the camera was tilted more than 45 degrees down, it wouldn't hold it solidly.

You know how if you search something on eBay, everywhere else you go on the internet, somewhere on the display shows other things that come up from the search terms you used.  Not long after, it came up with this incredible Optipod tripod head that also was an Eastman Kodak product, so that seemed like it would be appropriate for this tripod.  I subsequently saw it in an Eastman Kodak catalog from 1948 (a year before I was born), so it wasn't exactly contemporary with the tripod, but it's really a good tripod head, and combined with the tripod has a really cool steampunk look. I love the way the ball and socket head mechanism is clearly visible.  It came in this really Art Deco looking box, so I think it might be a somewhat earlier product than the catalog I saw.

For several reasons, I have to put off my project in the Paine Art Center until after the new year, but I'm really looking forward to using this tripod.

Incidentally, I took all the photographs for this post with a hand-held iPhone camera and had to reshoot about half of them because of camera movement.

I shoulda used a tripod.

Eastern wedding

No really, the real east coast this time. It was my son who got married, and literally right on the coast.

We went several days early to hang out and do some tourism with Gene and Laura (his godparents). We stayed in an AirBnB apartment just down the street from Andy and Kristin's apartment. It was a really great experience and I highly recommend it.  We got there first, so took the opportunity for a pinhole photograph.

The first day we spent in central Boston.  We started at the Boston Public Library.  This is the central courtyard.

We went there to look at the Sargent Gallery.  I love the little streak in the far end where somebody looked at their phone for a few minutes.

This is tourism after all, so after picking up Andy at work, we went to lunch at the bar that inspired the television program Cheers, the Bull and Finch.  There wasn't any room in the original bar, so we were seated in the replica of the set they've built up stairs. (n.b. in case this doesn't look familiar, the only thing that's a replica is the bar itself.)

Andy went off to help Kristin with final preparations for the ceremony, and we set off on the Freedom trail. Our first stop was the Granary Burying Ground, nestled among the skyscrapers at the edge of the financial district.. There are three signers of the declaration of independence buried there,  John Hancock, Sam Adams, and Robert Treat Paine.  For such a rich guy, I was surprised Hancock's tomb was pretty non-descript. This particular tombstone was from the 1670's

Laura is an extreme Larry Bird fan (her vanity license plate is CELT33), so we had to stop at the Quincy Market behind Faneuil Hall to see his bronzed shoes next to the sculpture of Red Auerbach. Since we were right there, we stopped at the other replica of the Cheers set, and again, the bar itself was the only thing recognizable.

We stopped at Paul Revere's House, surrounded by the mostly early 20th century North End.

I didn't take many other pictures.  Laura and Gene's daughter, four months older than Andy, was also with us and I took her portrait as we waited for an Uber to take us to Cohasset.

Cohasset is about as iconic a New England town as you can imagine.  We had lunch at the Red Lion Inn, built in 1704. The weather was terrible and we spent a bit of time in this little coffee shop and bakery across the street as we waited for the rain to subside.

Cohasset harbor is about as archtypically New England as the rest of the town. That's the location of the wedding right across the harbor.

The official wedding photographers were a real professional team.  While the owner of the studio was documenting Kristin's preparations, her assistant worked with Andy.  I've been sticking a camera right in his face since literally seconds after his birth, so he's really an experienced and cooperative model.

I was careful not to get in the way, but I got this shot of Sarah and Andy while they posed for the pros.  I was holding the tripod against a railing on a floating dock and I was initially a little dissapointed when I first saw it, but now I think it captures some of the surreal nature of the experience.

The dock had been liberally decorated by seagulls, so they decided to move us all down the shore a bit to the Yacht Club.  I'm not sure, but I think this limo was there just for that purpose.  I love how the reflection of the buildings across the street show how shiny it was.

And then I ran out of film.  I reloaded, but somehow didn't get the clicker engaged, and didn't get a chance to fix it in the hustle and bustle of the rest of the night.  I was allowed to get one exposure of the couple with the Evil Cube, but it's still in the camera, and I'll probably post it to Facebook as an individual photo when I get that roll developed.

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