Terrible Parables
October 19, 20124 Commentsf/Egor (Leica Blog)MusingsPhoto GearIn this article, I explore the idea of a "photographer's parable," and soon realize why there are so few of them out there.
In this article, I explore the idea of a "photographer's parable," and soon realize why there are so few of them out there.
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!
What does Leopold von Sacher-Masoch have to do with my celebration of ULTRAsomething's 100th post? Everything, most likely.
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.
I receive numerous emails questioning me about my photographs and techniques. In order to answer them all, I've created this, umm, step-by-step video guide to street photography.
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.



