Reincarnation is a romantic notion, but no one ever bothers to consider the dark-side: What happens when your new life begins before you've achieved all the desires of your previous life? Fortunately, I'm here to tell you. Not only that, but I even manage to offer up a quasi-review of both the Leica IIIf and the Rolleicord Vb. That's a whole lotta value packed into a single article!
Once every three years, as if possessed by some inner-biological masochism clock, I'll inexplicably grab a camera on the way out the door to watch Vancouver's annual Celebration of Light fireworks competition. It's a curious act for someone who's violently allergic to fireworks photos.
Red cameras are intriguing — not just for filmmakers, but for still photographers as well. But they're also expensive. Even a complete "entry level" Red Scarlet system is likely to cost as much as a brand new fully-loaded compact automobile. Which is precisely why, when I set out to see how a Red camera might fit my requirements as a still photographer, I chose "Green." Green, in this case, relates to the color of ink under which the purchase appears in my accounting software. Green, specifically, means a LomoKino 35 motion camera. Used, this camera set me back the price of one breakfast. This article discusses why I've been itching for a Red camera, and how I managed to scratch it with my Green camera.
It might be a film. It might be a slide show. It might be a music video. Or it might just be me trying to grunt and babble my way to a new visual language. All that's really known is it's a collection of 47 moody, melancholic, phantasmagorical photos of rain, sequenced into an ebb and flow and supported by a suitably elegiac musical score.
We need to fit the term “photographer” with a pair of concrete shoes, and drop it in the nearest lake. Photography is no longer a unique ability — but the numerous tasks we can accomplish with photography ARE still unique. And this uniqueness is how each of us, moving forward, must define ourselves.
On May 10th, Leica Camera announced the M-Monochrom, a modified version of my beloved M9, which contains a monochromatic (rather than color) digital sensor. It's the camera I've dreamed of owning for over 6 years. So why am I having nightmares? Because I'm trying desperately to convince myself I don't actually need it.
In this article, I struggle with the idea that my rugged, he-man camera of choice isn't peddled in a depot, market or shop — but in a boutique! And I attend the opening of the first Leica Boutique in Canada in an effort to get to the bottom of it all.
"Memory Lane," as I define it, is "a long strip of acetate with a silver halide coating." I consider my film cameras to be miniature time capsules — my past self records a person, scene or event that it thinks my future self will find interesting. This article discusses one such trip down Memory Lane, and how it isn't quite the way I remembered it.
Chemical dependency is defined as an addiction to a mood-altering chemical. If denied access to the chemical, the dependent person is unable to function properly, and lives only for the chemical and the relief it brings. I never thought it would happen to me — but that was before I discovered the magical developing powers of Rodinal.