Easily influenced

 

I recently corresponded with someone to whom I had given several cameras. One comment I found distressing was that they didn't use them because they were "afraid to wear and tear them because they are so lovely." My cameras are made from packaging materials, and the ones in question were beer cases, which were protected with spray acrylic. Think of what that goes through in your shopping cart. It's pretty tough. I'll admit to occasionally needing a little maintenance, but that is usually a drop or two of glue. They're also pretty invulnerable to falls. My tripod goes over at least once with every roll of film. The EyePA 30 has exposed 10 rolls of film and is currently in an art exhibit. 

Then I thought, "Do I do that? Do I avoid cameras because I'm afraid they'll get blemished?" 

The Little Black Cube immediately came to mind. It's made out of about the lightest material I've ever used, although wonderfully opaque and maybe a little extravagantly thick for its original purpose as an envelope. Because it has the same internal film holder as any of my Compact Series, it doesn't feel crushable, and doesn't seem any more delicate than any of my other cameras when you're holding it. It's one unique feature is the glossy Chanel logo against the matte surface. If I covered it with glossy or matte protectant, that would disappear. The tiniest bit of moisture would disfigure it. There have been only two rolls of film exposed with it and all of that in the house and the garden.

I've been mostly using color film lately, because when you mix a C41 kit, the clock starts ticking as it oxidizes, and the data sheet practically dares you to exceed the recommended capacity. I finally declared my latest mix expired at 60% over capacity, thrice the recommended storage life, and two new kits waiting in the darkroom. So now I'm free to use some black and white film.

A good bit of that color film and the last roll of black and white were extremely expired, so I loaded The Little Black Cube with a brand new roll of top-of-the-line Ilford HP5+.

Another influence was my recent return to using an extreme-for-pinhole-narrow-angle-of-view, 53-degree, 6cm camera, which I wanted to continue.

At about this time, Photo Opp had a rummage sale of a lot of the things that were donated during their first fundraising efforts. They kept the best stuff for their educational mission, but there was still a lot of usable photo paraphernalia. Inspired by the look in Wes Anderson's Asteroid City, Sarah told me to see if there was a good-looking, quirky rangefinder. After rejecting a few Kodak Retinas, I picked up this camera. It's a Beauty. In the late 50's, Taiyōdō Camera changed its brand name to Beauty and offered this 35mm Super II with a Canter 45mm/f2.8 lens. It's in absolutely mint condition and everything works. The rangefinder patch is bright and as easy to focus and frame as any rangefinder, even with glasses on. It's presenting me with a philosophical crisis.

Among the heavy-duty video and cheap point-and-shoot tripods, this Star-D Aluminum tripod really stood out. One of several rebrands of the classic Marchioni TiltAll (including Leitz!), it's as big and primarily the same design as the Davis & Sandford RediTilt I've had since the 80s, but it extends a bit higher to 72 inches. I was volunteering at the sale and thought I'd talked someone into buying it twice. At the end of the day, I couldn't leave it.

The Kohler faucet in the kitchen, installed in the mid-90s, began to drip when completely closed, but was fine if you left the handle a few degrees from its full stop. We had it adjusted when the plumber came for something else and he told us it was on its way to total failure. It's now been replaced by a Moen product named after the city Andy and Kristin live in.

What the plumber was here about was the bathroom faucet that had failed explosively one morning. This Moen was the best one they had in stock at Lowe's, so the plumber could come the next day.

This is supposed to be about seeing if this camera can stand up to normal use. Sticking it in the sink is not normal usage for anyone but me. Taking the minor precaution of nice weather, I strapped the tripod to the bike rack as usual, with the camera mounted.

A nicely restored Model A.

The cloud above the geometric blocks of the YMCA with its shiny sign seemed quite modern.

The new doors in the highly anticipated Truffle Pig restaurant. With the narrow camera, I couldn't get far enough back. The tripod was already over the curb.

The shiny Masarati sports car that's always parked on State St.

In the window of the bridal shop at the corner of Main and Church. 

Some basement reorganizing revealed this oil lamp.

And a vase with rose decorations. I don't think I quite captured its translucence.

I can't tell any difference in the condition of the camera after this. It was very nice to use. It has the problematic take-up reel stops that I've later modified, but the film advanced really smoothly. One risky practice that's not apparent is that the interiors totalled six hours of exposure.

The Little Black Cube has a .30mm hand-drilled pinhole, 6cm from a 6x6cm frame. The HP5+ was semistand developed in Rodinal 1:100.