I miss the hatred.

Sixteen years ago, when this site began, folks still took photos with cameras rather than those little narcissism dissemination devices (NDDs) through which they now curate their alternate realities. In the ensuing years, not a single month has passed without my publishing both an article and a collection of new photos — each its own magnet for a mountain of incoming hostility. But these days, with fewer readers than the average mid-level 2nd grader, the once rampant negativity has vanished — I’m simply no longer popular enough to be hated.

Negativity is one of the most rampant of human diseases, or rather it’s a side effect of the true disease — insecurity. In my experience, the vast majority of negativity is simply defensive posturing. Which makes me wonder why people are always so afraid of disdainful criticism — it’s never about them. It just means someone else is so insecure about themselves that the easiest way for them to feel superior is to diminish those around them. Negotists, I call them.

I’m constantly amazed this works. Back when the site was quasi-popular, I used to laugh at all the horrible things said about me, my writing, or my photography. People took it personally — as if I was the cause of their failure to achieve an equal level of quasi-popularity.

Negativity is the quickest route to establishing an illusion of superiority, because it works on several levels.

The first and most obvious level, is it establishes the hater as ‘judge.’ Being the judge implies knowledge and experience, and thus the arbiter of taste. So the mere act of declaring oneself ‘judge’ is a self-fulfilling ego boost.

But judges can render verdicts both positive and negative, so why does negativity dominate all such decisions? That’s negativity’s second level — fear. While negotists gleefully heap disdain on others, their ultimate fear is that it be heaped on them. By assessing everything negatively, they’re protected from attracting any negativity themselves. The moment you praise something or defend something, you become linked to it, and you become a target for anyone else who wishes to heap negativity on it. Because the last thing the negotists want is negativity directed at them, they remain negative about everything. Once you profess to like or admire something, the millions who ridicule it will now ridicule you for liking it.

It is cowardice, pure and simple.

Still, most people don’t enjoy being bullied, and most people don’t like pouring their heart and soul into something only to have it ridiculed. This is another case where I’m glad I’m not most people.

I learned decades ago that my fear of being ridiculed, scorned, or hated was because I, myself, was unsure of my creation. If I created something that I didn’t personally believe was the best it could be, then there was a nagging fear that I might be ‘discovered’ as a fraud. So when someone dumped on a creation I didn’t fully believe in, it felt as if I’d been exposed.

The best way to become impervious to negativity is simply to create work that pleases yourself. The moment we create to please others, we open our psyches to the damaging effects of negativity. But if it’s for yourself; if you know it’s good; if it’s true to the vision you had; if you can look upon it and say, “yes, they can put this in my biography” — then you become negativity proof.

Over the past couple of decades, the vast majority of negativity directed at my work has been blind criticism, adjudicated by people who didn’t even attempt to engage with it. How blind? Consider the fact that, a decade ago, one of the most common complaints about me as a photographer was that I would jump out in front of people, fire off a flash in their face, and photograph them looking frightened. In actuality, I’ve no photos of people looking frightened; have never once leapt at anyone; nor used a flash on the streets more than 2 or 3 times in 32 years — and even then, never on a human.

Countering these oceans of negativity is a tiny puddle of excessively effusive praise. This too should be ignored, for it’s also born from insecurity — particularly in the art world, where no one wants to admit they’re fraudulent, and everyone is fearful of being perceived as anything less than intellectual. So praise is often piled onto the most mundane art — simply for fear that a negative opinion could be construed as uncool or uninformed. It’s why there’s so much pretentiousness in the art world — though in this case, the tables turn and it’s the creator who looks down on the judges with disdain.

So what’s a poor besieged creative to do? How does one combat all these opinions? Simple: ignore all of them. The only opinion that matters is yours. If you’re unsure, don’t publish. If you are sure — send it into the world. The negotists and the glommers-on will do their thing regardless. But because you’re sure, you’re immune to the clueless hyperbole of others. And once enrobed in this immunity, you will create work that matters.

And remember — the more people who tell you how horrible you are, the more successful you are. An absence of negativity does not mean you are loved. Rather, it means you’re insignificant. And who wants to be insignificant? I certainly don’t. And that’s why I miss the hatred.

©2024 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE PHOTOS :

‘Editorial‘ was photographed on a Leitz Minolta CL fronted with a Minolta 40mm f/2 Rokkor lens on Fomapan 100, and developed in Black White & Green.

‘Haute Couture‘ was shot with a Lomography Sprocket Rocket on HP5+ @ ISO 400 and developed in Black White & Green.

‘Heart Attack‘ was shot with an Olympus OM-2n, fronted with an 18mm f/3.5 Zuiko lens on HP5+ @ ISO 400 and developed in Black White & Green.

‘Adjudication‘ was also shot on an Olympus OM-2n loaded with HP5+ @ ISO 400, but was fronted with a 50mm f/1.8 lens and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

‘Urban Outfitters – Fall Collection‘ was shot with a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 on HP5+ @ ISO 1600, and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

‘Phosphorescence‘ was photographed with a Leica M6TTL using a TTA 50mm f/0.95 lens on FP4+ @ ISO 200 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

‘Natural Ingredients’ used a Lomography Sprocket Rocket, and was shot on FP4+ at ISO 200 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

‘An Enshrouding‘ used a Pentax MZ-S fronted with a Pentax-M 120mm f/2.8, and was shot on HP5+ @ ISO 400 and developed in Blazinal 1:50

‘Iconoclast‘ was shot on a Leitz Minolta CL fronted with a 40mm f/2 Rokkor lens on FP4+ @ ISO 200, and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

REMINDER : If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.

Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.

Entropy, crucial to the second law of thermodynamics, suggests that over time, an ordered system will always evolve into random chaos. Because this is, in fact, the definition of equilibrium, I feel somewhat comforted to know I may well be one of the most balanced men on the planet. Apparently age does have its benefits. Though I’ll admit, all this disorder and chaos doesn’t really feel as stable as the math suggests.

Entropy has a way of sneaking up on a fellow. It doesn’t seem all that long ago when random bursts of chaos would disrupt my life only once or twice a week. Then, in a flash, it became once or twice a day; then once or twice an hour. Now chaos is so prevalent that order has become the anomaly, if any exists at all. Basically, my days consist of sitting at my computer waiting for new crap to go wrong, while working to rectify the crap that just went wrong seconds earlier.

Still, I do sometimes wonder whether chaos is really on the rise, or if there’s something else afoot.

Does life really become more chaotic as we age? Or is it just our perceptions that change? Certainly, worming one’s way out of the womb qualifies as an upheaval. As is being forced to play with other imbecilic toddlers at the local playground. All life is turmoil. School begets jobs. Dating begets marriage begets divorce. Bills? Taxes? Bosses? Employees? Everyone screwing up. Everything breaking. It does seem as if chaos has always been abundantly present.

Perhaps chaos is a steady stampede, but it arrives faster than we can wrangle order, so it accumulates — occupying an ever more ominous percentage of our lives.

Maybe it’s the mortality factor? When we’re young, our whole life is still in front of us — so it seems like we have all the time in the world to address the chaos, like it’s something we can deal with tomorrow. But tomorrow always comes. And when it does, so does the realization that we’re rapidly running out of tomorrows.

Or maybe we just become less physically equipped to deal with it? Once one begins to succumb to the desire for an afternoon nap, one’s probably not as vital as they were in their 20’s. So perhaps the chaos only seems more prevalent because it requires a larger percentage of one’s actual physical and mental reserves.

Then again, I suppose any such inability to deal effectively with chaos is, itself, just another form of chaos. And if the last several years are any indication, it’s going to be a pretty wild ride from here on out. So if entropy is as real as the hoity-toity physicists suggest, there’s no use fighting. It’s inevitable. Strap in, hang on, and enjoy the view of order scattering asunder.

©2024 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE ARTICLE/PHOTOS:

Apparently the universe is an avid ULTRAsomething reader. Who knew? The very act of uploading the first draft of this article caused some sort of catastrophic site failure, requiring several hours of research, tech support discussion, and a bunch of coding just to bring the site back online. Thanks, entropy, for letting your presence be known once again and in such an obviously ironic way.

Uzumaki is an abstract shot of a subject I’ve been obsessed with trying to photograph for 20 years. I can finally check it off the list. Shot with a Minolta TC-1 on Tri-X at ISO 400 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

Elements was shot with a Hasselblad 500C/M using an obviously distressed 120 back and fronted with a 30mm f/3.5 F-Distagon fisheye lens. For added anti-fidelity, a roll of TMAX 400, which expired 13+ years ago was also employed, as was my usual tank of Blazinal 1:50.

56 Panes was shot on an Olympus Xa, using HP5+ pushed to ISO 800 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

Introspective was shot with a Nikon 28Ti on Fomapan 400, and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

Fog Bank was shot on a Nikon S3, fronted with a Nikon 50mm f/1.4 lens on HP5+ at ISO 400, and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.

Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.

Are we we? Were we always we? Or are we empty vessels hoovering up the we?

Using ‘me’ as a proxy for ‘we’ and defining ‘were’ as ‘a time well before the first Zoomer crawled from the womb’, I’ve always been in the ‘we were always we’ camp. Whatever differences lie between the twains of ‘me’ can be chalked up to the simple fact that modern me has more experience and knowledge than nascent me, and thus makes different decisions. Yesterday’s me was explorative and driven. He was organized, focused, iconoclastic and fairly certain of his extraterrestrial origin. Today’s me is no different.

That’s not to say I’m still wearing platform shoes like it’s 1977; skinny leather ties like it’s 1981; or frosting my hair like 1985. Those were all mere accoutrements and not fundamental to the plot. Sort of like Julie Newmar, Lee Meriwether and Eartha Kitt were just variations on the same Catwoman. To Adam West’s Batman, they were one and the same.

But after thumbing through ULTRAsomething’s fifth Exorcism, I had a rather potently conflicting thought — one that challenged my perception that we were always we; or at least that I was always me. “Wow,” I thought, “I don’t have a single thing in common with that guy who first plunged into photography some 32 years ago.”

And so, bored with all the choices on my overabundance of streaming channels, I decided to prove it to myself (something nascent me would have done as well).

Through the convenient portal provided by an old box of negatives, I traveled back in time to those very first few strips of film that ran through my very first serious camera and my very first serious attempts at photography. Who was that guy, who 32 years ago decided to expand his love of looking at photographs into the act of taking photographs? Was he me?

First Travel Landscape

Because I was a photography connoisseur long before I became a photographer, I had a rather expansive visual vocabulary when I began. For the none of you who might be interested, I wrote about my circuitous path to becoming a photographer in an article called Origin Story. In my ceaseless search for prints to peruse, I would travel far and wide from my home in San Francisco’s North Beach neighbourhood, looking for galleries. And more often than not, given my location, these galleries were chock full of absolutely stunning prints made by Group f/64 photographers. And though I never developed an interest in landscape photography, I definitely wanted to make prints like these. So when I bought my first camera and darkroom enlarger, I thought the quickest way to producing my own stunning prints would be to trek down to Ansel Adams’ favourite hunting ground, Yosemite, and try my hand. Below is my very first attempt at a landscape photo.

It is everything a Group f/64 photo is not. I remember thinking it was an absolute failure, and that the heavily pronounced grain and murkiness would surely convince Canon to repossess my new camera, lest anyone see the results and choose to blame Canon. But I also remember secretly liking it precisely because it was grainy and murky. And now, 32 years in the future, I don’t have to be secretive any more. It’s a photo that looks like me and nothing like a Group f/64 photo. And while I have zero interest in landscape photography now, I also had zero interest then. It’s the way I photograph something, not what I photograph. So consider this Exhibit A in the “We were always we” camp.

First Architecture

Anyone who slogged through my origin story knows my interest in photography was birthed by my interest in architecture. So it’s no surprise that some of my earliest forays into photography involved architecture — or rather I wanted them to. In my mind, I would be the new Julius Shulman, and his photos of mid-century modern structures helped me realize that my opinion of a particular piece of architecture could be as much a product of the photographer as the architect.

Unfortunately, I had no access to famous architects or their buildings. Nor was it the mid-century any more. Architects in the early 90’s had abandoned my love of minimalism and functionalism, and pivoted to a sort of ornamental and decorative style — but tawdry and tasteless unlike previous incarnations. So even if I had known any architects, I wouldn’t have wanted to photograph their buildings. However, I did quite like the gritty utilitarian buildings that lined the back alleys around Chinatown, so they became the subject of my early architectural leanings.

This is the first architectural shot I could find amongst my negatives. It offers precious little view of anything beyond functional detail, with a hint of abstraction and a dollop of blur. At the time, I thought it was horrible. I look at it now, and it looks like me. Exhibit B in the “We were always we” camp.

First Abstract

Unlike the previous two genres, in which I dabbled due more to proximity than passion, abstraction was something much closer to my heart. Even before I first became interested in photography as a genuine art form, I was drawn to abstracts. If I couldn’t quite figure out a photograph — either what it was or how it was taken — then it would pinball around my brain long after I’d finished viewing it.

Below is the very first abstract I ever took, on the first roll of film I ever shot.

As abstracts go, it’s not all that abstract (unless maybe you’re one of those aforementioned Gen Z’ers, or younger). But truth be told, I’m still taking this same photo today. Rarely do I pass a video display of any sort without thinking it warrants a photo or two. Several such shots have even appeared in various Exorcisms. So mark this as Exhibit C in the “We were always we” case.

First Street

A second major catalyst toward my eventual plunge into photography was the work of Robert Frank, Elliott Erwitt, Garry Winogrand and others of their ilk (and I apologize to each of their estates for “ilkifying” them in this way). It’s interesting that this, more than any other genre, became the one with which I was most associated over the years, because it was the one I struggled with the most in the early days — mostly because I was gripped by the fear of photographing strangers on the street.

So unlike other first photographs, this one probably bears the least resemblance to who I ultimately became.

That’s because it’s not a photo I would take today, nor does it possess the empathy and humour I seek in all my street work. Also, it runs counter to my now ubiquitous use of deep depth-of-field and wide angle lenses, so as to bathe the subject in context, and not isolate them from it.

And yet, I don’t believe these deviations reflect a difference between past me and current me. Instead, they’re more a product of past me simply not knowing how best to approach the genre. After all, this is the very first “street” photo I ever took. I distinctly remember looking at the print and thinking this was not the approach I wanted to take — deciding I would need to alter my technique, go with wide angle lenses, shoot closer, and simply learn to conquer my fear. So my ability to instantly recognize this photo wasn’t me means I was, indeed, always me. And thus we have Exhibit D.

First Model Session

The third significant impetus for my plunge into cameradom was studio and figure photography, with the likes of Helmut Newton, Richard Avedon, Bill Brandt, and Frantisek Drtikol all pulling me into learning the art of lighting and set design.

Just like the street work, the studio required I photograph humans — and photographing humans removes an element of control from the photographer. Fortunately, as with my musical life, I thrive on serendipity and improvisation. I saw studio photography as a form of jazz — I compose a basic theme and structure, but the finished shot becomes an interplay of improvised counterpoint between model and photographer.

The following series is from my first ever session involving a model:

For several years, this was my primary photographic discipline, so it’s odd that it’s now the one I no longer practice. There are a variety of reasons, but perhaps the main one is that I simply failed to find an audience. I wasn’t interested in delivering the sort of images expected from this genre, and instead tried to ‘advance’ it into quirkiness (at first) or downright abstraction (which I eventually did) — neither of which seemed to fit any viewers’ desire. Ultimately, the disconnect between the photos I wanted to take and the photos people wanted to see lead me to abandon the genre entirely. I simply wasn’t willing to be the photographer someone else wanted me to be, and it’s this ‘adherence to self’ that’s hopefully evident in each and every Exorcism I publish today. And so, here is Exhibit E in the supposition that “we were always we.”

Conclusion

Looking at these first few tentative photos from the dawn of my photographic origins has shown me that I was, indeed, always me. The only real difference is that today’s me has more experience; more knowledge; and no longer allows public expectations to dictate his publishing efforts. So the doubt that crept in upon my perusal of the fifth Exorcism was unfounded. It’s not that I don’t have anything in common with the guy who first plunged into photography some 32 years ago — I’m just Catwoman in a different skin.

©2024 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE PHOTOS:

Echoes was shot with a Hasselblad Xpan, fronted with a 90mm f/4 lens and loaded with FP4+ pushed to ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal 1:24

Lunch: Guu was shot with a Widelux F7 on Fomapan 400 at ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal 1:50.

The remaining photos, as discussed, were all shot in early 1992 on a Canon somethingorother fronted with a Canon whatchamacallit, on various thisnthat film stocks and developed in D76 and/or a local lab. Surely none of that matters?

REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.

Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.

There’s some sort of something out yonder
Can’t see it; it’s too far to wander.
“Instead,” said his friends
“Use a much longer lens
And then you’ll no longer need ponder.”

Clean as a Disneyland stage show,
with pixels and pixels in escrow.
As sharp as Santoku,
but dull as a bank queue,
that’s why I shoot film strips a-go-go.

Tilt it left to tilt right just a tad.
Slice my lip on the dark slide, so bad.
Kerthunk! goes the curtain.
All around me are certain
that a photo is now in my ‘blad.

Drank something, my brain started glitchin’
Heaved demons like some freak religion
I went to the doc
He said, “Dumb as a rock,
developing film in the kitchen.”

When gritty as smashed artifacts,
and murky as gramps’ cataracts.
With literal cessation,
Plus a splash of halation,
It’s ULTRA guy’s photo climax.

Selfie and selfie and selfie
and selfie and selfie and selfie.
Selfie and selfie
and selfie and selfie.
Selfie and selfie. Unhealthy.

From marvel of mankind to junk.
Deflated, I’m slumped in a funk.
The camera is dead.
I’m sensing a thread
That 90’s technology stunk.

At three in the morning, he dressed
And climbed up the mountain, obsessed
To shoot the sunrise
And win the top prize
Alas, he was facing the west.

“Is it loaded with one- or four-hundred?”
Three frames, and she’s already blundered.
“Was I shooting box speed
Or was pushing decreed?”
Such musings, so frequently wondered.

I once shot a few frames of colour
“My eyes!” I said, starting to holler
My brain got confused
By the clashing of hues
Which even repelled the web crawler.

© 2024 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE PHOTOS:

Ponder : Konica Recorder half-frame ; FILM = FP4+ at ISO200 ; DEV = Rodinal 1:50

Strips : Olympus Xa ; FILM = HP5+ at ISO800 ; DEV = Rodinal 1:50

Leaky ‘Blad: Hasselblad 500 C/M + Zeiss 80mm f/2.8 Planar ; FILM = TMAX 400 (expired 12 years) at ISO400 ; DEV = Rodinal 1:50

Dubious Potability : Canon Demi EE17 half-frame ; FILM = HP5+ at ISO400 DEV = Rodinal 1:50

Climax : Olympus Xa ; FILM = HP5+ at ISO800 ; DEV = Rodinal 1:50

Selfie : Nikon S3 + Nikkor-S.C 50mm f/1.4 ; FILM = HP5+ at ISO800 ; DEV = Rodinal 1:50

Roller Disco : Konica Hexar AF ; FILM = HP5+ at ISO400 ; DEV = Rodinal 1:50

UFO : Nikon S3 + Nikkor-S.C 50mm f/1.4 ; FILM = HP5+ at ISO800 ; DEV = Rodinal 1:50

Paradox : Minolta TC-1 ; FILM = Fomapan 100 at ISO100 ; DEV = Rodinal 1:50

Huey : Nikon 28Ti ; FILM = Phoenix 200 at ISO200 ; DEV = Lab

REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.

Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.

Every so often, someone somewhere suggests I write a book. Unfortunately, they rarely suggest what kind of book I should write. When prompted, several suggest I write a novel; others recommend I focus on educational materials; some advocate for a photo book; while another contingent requests “an assemblage” of existing articles.

So here’s the deal. Actually, here are several deals.

First, I actually have written books. Several hundred of them, in fact — and all in that “educational” category so many desire. I’ve been writing electronic music product owner’s manuals since the late 1980’s — some of which have even been employed as classroom texts in a few institutes of higher learning. But I agree with the thought gestating in your mind: these aren’t “real” books. After all, it’s not like someone’s going to curl up in front of the fire with a 1,000 page manual on music notion and a nice glass of brandy. Besides, anyone who did suggest I pen an “educational book” was surely imagining something photography related, what with the purported purpose of this site.

Second, I did indeed publish a book of photos about 15 years ago. No, it wasn’t a “real” book — it was a Blurb book. Which meant the crisply photographed black-and-white images were rendered in either a murky shade of purple or a nauseatingly hued cyan. In spite of this, I’ll admit it sold better than expected — in the high single digits, last I checked. Also, I’ve been publishing a photo magazine the past couple years, which does sell substantially better. So you could always buy a couple of those, staple them together and boom! — instant book. Would I ever publish a real, offset-printed photo book using a real printer/publisher like Steidl? In a heartbeat. Would Steidl publish me? There aren’t enough hearts beating in the world.

The third (and most popular) suggestion, is that I release “an assemblage” of existing articles in book form. I’ve never been able to wrap my head around this one. The articles are already on the internet. For free. Yet my readership has declined so precipitously in the past several years that my web host has started emailing condolence messages to my friends and family. Why would anyone pay for what they can get for free? What publisher on this side of a padded accommodation in Bellevue would invest in publishing something that’s already offered without charge? Even if they performed a marketing miracle and convinced everyone to buy the first edition, word would quickly spread that it’s all on the web, thus killing any plans to publish a second edition, and therefore eliminating any possibility to recoup marketing expenses. Plus, since it’s Google’s stated goal to electronically publish every book in the world, it seems kind of silly to transfer all my articles to print, just so Google can transfer them back into digital form.

Fourth on the list of considerations is “the novel.” I’m not sure exactly what I’ve ever written that would make someone think I’m capable of writing a novel? I can barely stay engaged long enough to finish a 1000 word essay. How would I ever complete a 70,000 word novel? But if I ever did write a novel, I can assure you it would be so thoroughly unlike anything I’ve written for ULTRAsomething — both in language and in style — that it would utterly confound and disappoint anyone who ever asked me to write it.

Which brings me to the one book idea that no one seems to suggest: A collection of unpublished essays. This is something I think I could be good at, since writing essays is exactly what I’ve been doing these past 15 years. But to do this means I stop publishing them on the web and start publishing them in print. Given my current writing rate, it would take me 6 years to assemble a 70,000 word collection — more than enough time to guarantee no one would remember ULTRAsomething ever existed, or that they’d ever even suggested I write a book.

So, all roads lead to the same destination: me asking “why would I ever write a book?” Sure, I’d love to go on the talk show circuit, gorging myself on free snacks in the green room and engaging in witty banter with the host. Who wouldn’t? But is that going to happen? And aren’t there at least 100 things I’d rather do with my remaining time?

If this essay sounds like I’m sitting atop the tip of some existential iceberg, you’re absolutely right. I am. But in order to explore it more thoroughly, I’d have to write a book.

© 2024 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE PHOTOS:

To subtly illustrate my point that, perhaps, I’m not particularly equipped for long-form writing, I’ve captioned each accompanying photo with only a single word.

Baubles was shot on a Leica M6 TTL with a Minolta 28mm f/2.8 Rocker lens using HP5+ pushed to ISO 800 and developed in Microphen stock.

Rink was also shot on a Leica M6 TTL, but with a TTArtisan 50mm f/0.95 lens using Delta 3200 developed in Microphen stock.

Chrysler was photographed with a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 on HP5+ pushed to ISO 3200 in Microphen stock.

Pedant popped out of a Canon Demi EE-17 half-frame camera, loaded with HP5+ at ISO 400, which was developed with Blazinal (Rodinal) 1:50.

Skynyrd was shot from my sofa, just before taking a nap, on the OM Digital OM-1 on which was mounted an OM Digital 40-150 F/4 lens.

REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.

Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase

Don’t let that flow of crystal wisdom streaking through my wavy mane fool you. It might not look it, but I’ve a finger pressed firmly to the pulse of today’s hip kid culture — not that it requires a degree in quantum gravity physics or anything. Today’s hip kids aren’t doing anything different than what yesterday’s hip kids did — they just shuffle the pieces on the game board and give it a new name. It’s not like anyone ever invents anything new.

That said, the whole cycle of ‘what’s old is new again’ seems to be tightening. It used to take a couple generations for trends to repeat themselves, but today’s hip kids are circling back to things I did as a hip adult — never mind the things I did as a hip kid. If the hip cycles get any tighter, whatever I did last Tuesday will be “in” again come Friday.

An example of this is the current trend of buying and using old point-and-shoot digital cameras.

As a young adult, I was always hip to emerging technology and impatient for it to get hip enough to give me what I wanted —a decent, yet affordable digital camera. But in those nascent days of 1991, a 1.3 megapixel Kodak DCS 100 cost as much as a pickup truck, which you would also need to purchase in order to lug the thing around. So, instead, I bought the first-ever Nikon film scanner and something called Photoshop 1.0 as “bridge products” to the hipness I ultimately sought. Come the mid-90’s, a barrage of thoroughly crappy, but semi-affordable digital cameras began to trickle onto the market, and I imbibed like a land shark at an all you can eat sushi bar. At the time, I was simply too hip for film — the bleeding edge of digital was surely where I belonged.

So when I heard that today’s kids were all abuzz over shooting vintage point & shoot digital cameras, I went rummaging through my bin of antiquity to see what, if anything, might have sudden pecuniary value. Unfortunately, since each new generation of 90’s digital camera tech would leapfrog the previous generation, I didn’t bother to retain most of my “obsolete and valueless” models.

I did, however, unearth a 1998 Kodak DC260. Though this was my fourth (or fifth) digital camera, it was the first one capable of taking a photo in which less than 20% of the pixels were just spurious digital noise. I popped in a fresh bundle of AA batteries along with one of my “massive” old 10MB Compact Flash cards. After a quick Google check to confirm that Photoshop could still crack open Kodak’s old proprietary file format, I anxiously fired off my first shot — hoping to see exactly what it was that so excites today’s hip kids. Instead, I was greeted by a screen of pure, unadulterated bokeh. So I snapped another… and another… until I eventually realized the camera wasn’t even attempting to move the lens into position and focus. Switching to manual focus had no effect. Time had turned the DC260 into a dedicated blur machine. For a brief moment, I attempted to mentally reframe this as a “feature” for creating a series of Rothko-like photographs… but, really, it was just hopelessly broken.

So I dove back into the antiquity tub in search of more ‘gems,’ eventually extracting my only other archaic digital artifact — a 2003 Canon Powershot S400. Unlike the DC260, the Canon uses proprietary batteries, of which I still had two. Although it took 24 hours to charge the first battery, I was delighted to see it could still power the camera. The first thing I did was reset the date and configure a couple menu options, after which the camera shut itself down and told me to “recharge the battery.” I then charged the second battery (another 24 hours) and snapped a photo from my window — an act that also completely drained the battery. 48 hours later, after recharging both batteries, I was ready for a photo walk — albeit a rather short one, what with only two shots available before the batteries would be spent.

Back in the comfort of home, I perused the day’s 2-photo bonanza of shots. What surprised me was that, in spite of the reduced resolution and ancient tech, the images were far more satisfying than the overly processed, plasticine crap the spews forth from my iPhone. The photos looked, for lack of a better word, ‘real’. That said, I doubt the image quality has anything to do with why hip kids are flocking to early digital point & shoots. It’s fashion driving their choices, not results… but still, it’s amazing how far we’ve fallen from the glory days when CCDs ruled the roost.

Although the old digital images were subjectively superior to photos from a modern smart phone, these hip retinas of mine still found them far less appealing than those produced by last year’s hip kid retro toy — the film camera. To this day, there remains nothing that satisfies my visual desires quite like a random dusting of silver halide crystals. Fortunately, cycles being as tight as they are, I suspect it’ll only be another few months until film cameras are again hipper than digital — albeit with some ‘twist’, like maybe it’ll be medium format that’s hip this time, rather than point & shoots.

Admittedly, while I do like to know what’s going on, I gave up chasing “hip” several decades ago. I don’t really care what’s in and what’s out (other than knowing what’s what lets me buy low and sell high). When it comes to photography, I’m rather certain I’ll be shooting b&w film for at least a dozen more hip cycles. So, while I began this article with the intent of showcasing some antiquated digital photos, the paucity of results necessitated that I do what I always do — populate it with analog photos that are even more antiquated. Who knows? If I keep doing this long enough, maybe this website will even be “hip” again. Stranger things have happened — like, say, this whole digital point & shoot trend.

© 2024 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE PHOTOS:

As mentioned, in spite of the article being all about vintage digital cameras, the photos are all from film cameras — I guess I’m just not hip enough to cruise around town with a 20 year-old digital Elph and a bucket full of batteries.

Speed Dating was shot with a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 using HP5+ pushed to ISO 1600 in Microphen stock. I’d like to claim credit for the title, but when I stopped to compliment the kids on their creative act of hooliganism, they were the ones who told me they had dubbed this particular piece, “Speed Dating.”

Cthulhu View is from a cropped Widelux F7 negative, shot on Rollei RPX 100 @ ISO 100 and developed in Rodinal 1:50

Bad Bad Plant was photographed with a Leica M6TTL and a Minolta 28mm f/2.8 Rokkor lens, using HP5+ pushed to ISO 800 in Microphen stock. I claim no understanding of this scene. I just shoot ’em.

Duality was shot with a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 on HP5+, and pushed to ISO 1600 in Microphen stock.

Cannibal Holocaust is, perhaps, the most perfectly titled photo I’ve ever shot. However, if you haven’t seen Ruggero Deodato’s 1980 film, “Cannibal Holocaust,” then you’ll have no idea why. Word of warning: anyone not fully vaccinated against repugnantly graphic imagery is encouraged to remain cheerfully in the dark. Shot on a Leica M2 with a 35mm Summicron v4 using HP5+ @ ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal 1:50.

Sun Tau in Modern Times was photographed with an Olympus XA, on HP5+ @ ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal 1:50

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For several years, I tracked the total number of steps taken on each and every photo walk. And I did this because… well… I don’t actually know why. Maybe I needed to confirm my compliance with that whole 10,000 step ‘health’ thing, even though I knew every walk would easily exceed that amount. Also, I was tracking only the photo-related steps, as if any other type of step was somehow void of benefit. So this year, bored with counting steps (but still monitoring only photo walks), I decided to instead track miles, which seemed a more relatable metric (imperial?) in real-world terms. I surpassed 1,000 miles well over a month ago, and should easily exceed 1,250 miles in 2023. That’s 2,000 km of aimless meandering, expressly for the purpose of taking photos.

That’s like walking from San Diego to Seattle — the entire length of the west coast of the USA; or from Stockholm Sweden to Milan Italy for my European friends; or from Brisbane to Adelaide for the down-under crew.

This probably has a lot to do with why shoes are my #3 photography related expense. These are no grassy meadows I’m traversing — just cold, hard, unforgiving cement. The shoes I bought just 3 months ago are now tenuous at best, while those I bought 5 months ago are ready for the trash. I wonder how many other people are on a first name basis with the staff in their neighbourhood specialty shoe store?

Unlike cameras — where a cheap and dodgy no-name special is just as likely to produce a good photograph as a premium model — shoe quality is essential. Skimping with cheap shoes is false economy, since any perceived savings correlate directly with a significant increase in bandage costs.

By the way, for those wondering what my top-two photography-related expenses are, the answer is 1) insurance and 2) web/domain hosting. Magazine publishing costs are also way up there. Film, chemistry and cameras are actually the cheapest part of this whole endeavour — which would be a great way to rationalize their purchase to a spouse, should you be one of those people who has one.

I wasn’t always such a walk-a-holic. In my early 20’s, I prided myself on driving a half-mile to the grocery store, under some mistaken assumption that I was doing myself good by saving 5 minutes of precious time.

My walking didn’t see a tremendous uptick during the 13 years I lived in downtown San Francisco — where I simply replaced the car with a monthly bus pass. Also, my penchant for wearing leather-soled Beatle boots and black, skin tight Levi 501 jeans was a bit hostile to walks in excess of a mile or two.

Things changed somewhat when I moved to Vancouver. I traded the tight, heavy denim (which was made far tighter and heavier by the rain) for loose, quick drying nylon. And to gain more traction on wet, slippery surfaces, I traded my beloved Beatle boots for rubber soles (not to be confused with the Beatle’s Rubber Soul).

But even then, I didn’t walk a tremendous amount — just enough to shoot the photos I needed to populate the next article. Granted, I walked far more than most people, but nothing like the Bangkok-to-Hong Kong treks I do now. All additional exercise was relegated to the gym, which burned far more calories in far less time than walking (mirroring the same primitive logic I employed in my early 20’s).

COVID changed that tactic entirely. The gyms closed. I tried working out in my condo, but didn’t wish to pollute my clean minimalist environment with some bulky, ugly exercise gear. So I tried going with a floor mat and a bunch of iPad exercises, but that simply wasn’t any fun — not that exercising ever was. Instead, I just started walking more. A lot more. Unfortunately, no amount of walking will ever get my heart pumping away at 160 bpm, but at least it gets me out of the condo and into the fresh air, where I’m free to engage with the world (even if that world extends only in a 5km radius from my home). But most importantly, all that extra walking lets me take substantially more photos.

By the time all the gyms finally re-opened, I was well and truly hooked on walking — and well and truly out of the gym habit. Unlike bad habits, which are notoriously easy to adopt and wickedly difficult to kick, good habits (like going to the gym) are the opposite: wickedly difficult to adopt and notoriously easy to kick. Intellectually, I know I should probably add some cardio back into my daily routine, but for now I’ve simply convinced myself that every time I see a good photo opportunity, my heart rate accelerates. Granted, I haven’t actually confirmed this with a heart rate monitor because, frankly, I don’t want to disprove it.

So I guess I won’t be ponying up any dough for a 500 series Hasselblad system, or that 3-lens Mamiya 6 system, or even a 30mm lens for my Xpan. Instead, I need to once again traipse over to the damn shoe store, and tap the credit card for a pair of winter-ready waterproof Hokas. At least it’s cheaper and more exciting than buying insurance.

© 2023 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE PHOTOS:

I considered populating this article with various footwear photos, but a quick scan of my Lightroom catalog revealed that I apparently don’t possess even the slightest tendency toward foot fetishism. So I had to pivot, and instead populated the article with several disturbing visions of a dystopian future. Given the state of the world, it seemed rather appropriate — even if the photos have nothing at all to do with the text.

For the nerds out there:

Dystopia 1: World without Netflix was photographed with a Leica M6TTL and a Voigtlander 50mm f/1.5 Nokton lens, using FP4+ pushed to ISO 400 and developed in Blazinal 1:24.

Dystopia 2: World Without Mobiles utilized a Leitz/Minolta CL with an M-Rokkor 40mm f/2 lens and FP4+, which was shot at ISO 200 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.

Dystopia 3: Deep Fried Oreos was shot with an Olympus OM-2n and a G. Zuiko 28mm f/3.5 lens, rendered on Fomapan 100 and developed in Black, White & Green at 1+49.

Dystopia 4: Orthodoxy used a Konica Recorder half-frame camera, a roll of Fomapan 100 and a tank of Blazinal 1:50.

Dystopia 5: Generative A.I. was photographed with an Olympus OM-3Ti and an F. Zuiko 50mm f/1.8 lens, loaded with HP5+, shot at ISO 400 and developed in Blazinal 1:50. It was then made thoroughly moronic with a bit of assistance from Adobe’s generative fill tool.

Dystopia 6: Aliens – This, like Dystopia 3, was shot with an Olympus OM-2n and a G. Zuiko 28mm f/3.5 lens, rendered on Fomapan 100 and developed in Black, White & Green at 1+49.

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Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.

For decades, I’ve used a custom form to log ‘important’ characteristics for each roll of film I develop. Recorded on this form are attributes such as: the dates between which the roll was shot, and where it was shot; what camera and lens(es) were used; what film was employed, and at what ISO; the type, temperature and ratio of the chemistry; and the methodology used in the film’s development.

After scanning the negatives, I then copy this information into my Lightroom catalog, where it becomes part of each image’s metadata. Having access to so much history has proven invaluable over the years — particularly when it comes time to develop some type of film I haven’t shot in awhile. For example, I recently purchased a 100′ bulk roll of FP4+, and a quick glance through my previous FP4+ negatives revealed that my historically “mixed” opinion of the film had everything to do with whether I developed it in HC-110 (insipid) or Rodinal (tasty).

But lately, I feel as if my development skills have plateaued (though I’ll admit, given my penchant for low fidelity images, this can be a rather tricky thing to discern). Is there anything else I can learn from all these negatives? Am I tracking all the data I should be tracking? Is there any additional information I could record, which might aid my quest for constant improvement? Thinking through the development process step-by-step, I realized the very first thing I do when I process a roll of film is to choose a musical album to accompany the development. And yet, not once, had I ever bothered to document this obviously essential step in the process.

Granted, logic suggests one’s musical selection should have no affect on the negatives… but until I actually start to track it, can I make this claim with absolute certainty? Perhaps negatives subjected to sleazy lounge music during the development process will have subtly different characteristics than those birthed to some avant-garde classical tracks? Might there be a difference between those punk rock negatives and those souped under the aural blanket of a Gregorian chant? Does listening to hard bop give me negatives like Gene Smith’s? Will classic rock nudge my negatives in the direction of Jim Marshall’s?

And so — partly because it’s utterly ridiculous and partly because “why not?” — I’m now documenting the music that accompanies each roll of film I develop. In the last several weeks, I’ve souped negatives to:

• Open by Brian Auger & Trinity w/Julie Driscoll
• The Madcap Laughs by Syd Barrett
• Bálvvoslatjna by Mari Boine
• Ege Bamyasi by Can
• Cowboy in Sweden by Lee Hazlewood
• Oxygène by Jean-Michel Jarre
• In the Court of the Crimson King by King Crimson
• A Cappella Choral Works (featuring the London Sinfonietta Voices) by György Ligeti
• Roots by Curtis Mayfield
• Einfluss by Roedelius & Arnold Kasar
• 2112 by Rush

Obviously, it’s too soon to learn anything from this experiment… but give me another 5 or 6 years, and I might have pooled enough data to form a cohesive theory. In the meantime, I think I’ll forget about applying for photography grants — the real money is in research, and this might just be my ticket. Silly? Maybe. But I’ve seen grant money thrown at far more ludicrous projects that this…

© 2023 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE PHOTOS:

“Multiplex” was shot with a Fuji Natura Black 1.9, using HP5+ pushed to ISO 1600 and developed in Rodinal 1:50. It was birthed to Jean-Michel Jarre’s Oxygène — still the best album ever recorded in one’s kitchen.

“Scythe” is from a Lomography Sprocket Rocket, using FP4+ pushed to ISO 200, and developed in Rodinal 1:50. Its development music came courtesy of 1967’s Open album from Brian Auger & Trinity w/Julie Driscoll.

“The Wall” was snapped with an Olympus Xa on HP5+ at ISO 400, and developed in Rodinal 1:50. And while it might have seemed obvious to have done so, it was not developed to Pink Floyd’s The Wall but, instead, to Can’s experimentally funky Ege Bamyasi album from 1972.

“Playline” was shot with a Contax G1 and a Zeiss Planar 45mm f/2 lens, using FP4+ pushed to ISO 200 and developed in Rodinal 1:50. Roedelius & Kasar’s Einfluss album, from 2017, provided the accompaniment.

“WRDSMTH Was Here” used a Fuji GS645S Wide 60 and some TMAX100 that expired over a decade ago, and which I exposed at ISO 80. Sound waves from the psychedelic cowboy lounge music of Lee Hazlewood’s Cowboy in Sweden helped agitate the Rodinal.

REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.

Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.

One needs only spend a few minutes perusing the photos of Josef Koudelka to find 100 reasons why I’m no Josef Koudelka — none of which weigh in my favour. His panoramic work inspired my own forays into the format, while simultaneously leaving me rather dispirited by the wideframe oeuvre I’ve produced. Two of his standard format books — “Gypsies” and “Exiles” — both contain more perfect photos than I could create in a dozen lifetimes.

As apparent as these 100 differences are to the naked eye, there’s a 101st that isn’t as overtly obvious — philosophy. Koudelka once said, “I never stay in one country more than three months. Why? Because I was interested in seeing, and if I stay longer I become blind.” I’ll admit to having always envied his nomadic lifestyle, but it was never going to mesh with the drudgery of my day job. And since there were 100 readily apparent reasons why I’m no Josef Koudelka, there were also 100 reasons why my photography earnings would never supplant that day job. But here’s the thing: Being forced to photograph the same environment — day after day, month after month, year after year, decade after decade — is exactly what taught me TO see.

I walk over 1000 miles/year taking photographs — the vast majority of which are snapped within a 4 mile radius of my condo. I have photographed every inch of that radius hundreds, if not thousands, of times. And yet each photograph is different than the ones that came before it. A change in my mood; a change in the light; a change in season; a change in context; a change in camera, lens, or film; a change in the subject itself. Each results in an entirely different photograph — none of which could ever be the “definitive” photograph of the subject, because no such thing can possibly exist.

Being confined to a single environment forces you to see past a subject’s surface and deep into its entanglement with the universe. Photography may indeed be easier when everything in front of your camera is new — but it’s more spiritually rewarding when you’re forced to face the familiar, and work to see it in a different light.

That’s not to say I wouldn’t love the opportunity to travel to new places and photograph new things. I absolutely would. It’s exhilarating when you can stand in one spot and a hundred photographic possibilities flood your eye. When you photograph a single environment for decades, that flood turns to drought. 99% of everything I pass triggers the same thought — “I’ve already taken that photo.” But that 1% — where something reveals itself in such a way that it never revealed itself before — that’s the ultimate reward.

So I must humbly disagree with Koudelka. Being in one place for too long doesn’t make you go blind. Rather — it simply unlocks a different way of seeing. So, even though there are still 100 reasons why I wish I could take photos like Koudelka, there’s one that makes me very glad to be me.

© 2023 grEGORy simpson

ABOUT THE PHOTOS: All these photos were shot in spots I’ve traversed nearly as frequently as the hallway in my condo, yet each reveals something not seen in all the previous shots taken in exactly these same locations.

‘Meta‘ was shot with a Konica Hexar AF on Fomapan 100, and developed in Rodinal 1:50. ‘Over the Under Overpass‘ was photographed with a Widelux F7 on Rollei RPX100, and developed in Rodinal 1:50. ‘Fetch‘ was snapped with a Nikon 28Ti on Ilford Ortho Plus 80, and developed in HC-110 Dilution H. ‘Andy‘ was shot with a Leica IIIc and a 35mm f/3.5 Elmar LTM lens, on Tri-X, and developed in HC-110 Dilution E. ‘Redundant 1‘ was photographed with a Konica Hexar AF on Rollei RPX100, and developed in Rodinal 1:50. ‘Redundant 2‘ was shot with a Contax G1, fronted with a Contax 45mm f/2 Planar lens, using Delta 3200, which was developed in Rodinal 1:25.

REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.

Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.

IMPORTANT: Speaking of ULTRAsomething magazine, this will probably be the last month that I offer free shipping in the US and Canada… so if you’ve been holding off purchasing an issue or two (or three), now’s the time to grab it!