catherineadams

Yes--a great book. I read it for my Ph.D. comps years ago. In fact, it's

translated into English--thankfully. I read French more slowly as the years go

by.

If you would like a really cool book on photography (not history of art and

photography, but a completely fascinating tome), check out Didi-Huberman's

"The Invention of Hysteria." I had a chance to attend his lectures during the

year I lived in Paris, and the man is phenominally gifted. The book, of course,

was printed first in French (I bought a couple of that, too, just for sentimental

reasons). Another unique French tome is Deleuze's book on Masochism. He

explores photography during his fresh theorization of masochism/sadism. I

found it wonderful, a fresh departure from the "photography as killing weapon"

metaphor that guides much writing. If you read French, you might want to

check out Catherine Millet's "L'Art Contemporain en France." It presents the

art history & photography you were asking about before, only devoted to

French art. I thought you were searching for something more general, so I

didn't mention it before.

I've been wanting to examine that book . . . but so many things to do. It seems

you've hit upon the Octoberists (a group of scholars working with the art

journal "October" in the USA), and their works certainly fit under Aesthetics.

I'd suggest a couple of other works by the same authors. de Bois and Kraus's

"L'Informe: A User's Guide"--one of the most interesting "overviews" I've ever

read (reexamining the history of 20th century art since Surrealism through the

ideas of Bataille). And Hal Foster's "A Return of the Real"--an interesting

examination of art history since 1960s. I've read a lot of the Octoberist's work

over the years, and they always have something to say that broadens one's

thinking. Sometimes the Octoberists' perspective is a bit too American for my

needs, however, as much as they work with continental philosophy.

I've never used a stop-bath, but I use a fix from photographer's formulary that

requires a water rinse. Since you're using an acidic Rapid Fix, I'd suggest

using Orbit after the fixer. Fix, then rinse for a couple of minutes, then agitate

with Orbit wash (hypo-eliminator, I think it's called) to help get rid of the fix.

Then wash the film for fifteen minutes, dumping the water every minute.

(Note: Ilford advices a specific cycle of water and agitation to conserve water

on their website.) I wash t-grain film somewhat longer than normal, because

complete washing helps removes the colored stain.

I didn't get a chance to look at all the pictures--such a shame, as I miss

Romania and would like to see photographs. But about the web-site: it would

help the new viewer if you named the images, rather than marking them

"15.jpg". Titles help center an audience, allowing them to progress in their

travels with you. Second, you might want to adjust the color balance as they

seem a bit "blue"--just to give a bit more of life.

You've had an experience of a life-time--thanks for sharing it.

I use cheap ($6) stainless-steel reels for medium format. Initially, I missed my

Hewes 35mm with hooks. But in the end, practicing for a few days while

watching television did the trick. But I also starting taking the film off the paper

leader and, then, re-rolled the film so the glued edge was the last piece of film

in the reel (it stayed better that way). As to rolling the film on the very flimsy

clip--make sure the film in centered! You can feel if it isn't, if not at first, then

about a third of the way rolled. It just feels wrongs, and it sounds wrong (I roll

based on sound, more than anything else). Also, I use my left hand for 120 to

lead in the film, whereas I use my right for 35mm--go figure, but it works better

for me (the left hand does nothing now--it just holds the film straight).

But really, practice is important. I didn't feel comfortable until half-way through

165 rolls of film from Rome. That's about 100 rolls of film (including the rolls

from before the trip), which showed several mistakes. I still have to unroll and

re-roll film during loading, but that "knowledge" comes from practice (realizing

it isn't centered). Sorry, this isn't an answer--loading roll film is a pain and I

think the process depends on the individual. If it's any concelation, I now can't

roll 35 mm--it's too small and too long.

Note: Efke film is much more difficult, since it's very thin, in case that's what

you are using. Also, the one time I used the Paterson reels, I couldn't hear or

feel what was going on--traditional reels for 120 may be what you need (with

clips--but I can't imagine loading film withing them).

Thank you very much for your help, both of you. I'm going to try each of your

suggestions. So far, the RC paper turned out very well--I'm having more

problems with the Fiber. I'll be going back into the darkroom tonight.

The prior post about Eggleston raises important points relevant to the topic.

As far as I can tell, Brian wasn't asking about the ease/technique of color

printing (i.e., via digital, or those laborious processes in the darkroom).

Instead, he seems to be asking why color as a participation in an idea that

dominates (his word) our epoch.

A previous poster and the one just before this raise important points:

Eggleston was using advertising (pop culture) aesthetics for his own aesthetic

usage. Likewise, most people in the latter part of the century were using

color. I think that most contemporary photography is done in color is because

it reflects upon current, popular usage. In that way, it can signify the here and

now better than black and white. In other words, color allows a contemporary

fine art photographer to comment on contemporary life and popular culture

more viscerally than other alternatives. Don't get me wrong--I think black and

white photography can be very important in contemporary art. Look at

Annette Messager--but, she's not a "photographer," as she will readily assert.

Dear Roger,

Maybe you're back now, so I'll venture answering and prolonging this rather

intense discussion. First, I agree with your art history friends, at least to a

point. I think more emphasis should be placed in art history programs on art,

especially art processes. In my PhD program, there were no requirements, for

instance, which leads to a distance from the physical use of materials. I was

fortunate, however, to major in Art in college, so that gave me some

relationship to the "archeology" of art (man, i haven't used that word since

theoretical coursework!). I was the first to do an art history concentration at

that school, principally because I was extremely poor and couldn't afford art

supplies--so teachers gave me books and a place to crash. In truth, I would

have rather studied both (all capitals), but that's probably why I spend every

minute I can on photography now. Nonetheless, at that school, the art

historian made us work on egg tempera and all sorts of old-school techniques

in our art history methodology courses. She--like your friends--knew that it

was critical for the historian to understand techniques. I'm afraid that most

PhD programs now emphasize critical thought/theory. I'd put that emphasis

on theory and "isms" down to a pedagological failure in art history--the

attempt to render itself a science. That's why I can't see myself teaching in a

department--I've tried, it felt false. I hope your friends are handling more

gracefully than I. Of course, there's hope for the discipline, with critics like

Didi-Huberman (particularly his work on Aby Warburg, which I heard while

attending his lectures in Paris). He wrote "The Invention of Hysteria," which is

about photography. Also, I believe art and art history departments should

work stronger together, be more collaborative. In this vein, I want to teach

both photography and art history together, which I think would be easier (in

terms of what universities expect) from a photography professorship position.

As far as the "suburban tastes" goes--well, that's maybe harsh. I've written,

then deleted, several responses/explanations(apologies?), but they seem to

require too much expos頯f myself. Then I realized the simplest: I've come to

see "suburban" as a category, because we discuss it as such within academic

circles. Something to be examined, analyzed, etc. It's interesting that you

bring up the Victorian Alma-Tadema. I enjoyed (and still enjoy) him. In

undergraduate studies, I focused on Victorian art and middle-class aesthetics.

Then, in graduate school, I saw how the discipline dismissed the middle-class

view. Almost in order to protect my own enjoyment, I stopped "studying" the

nineteenth-century. In fact, I took up contemporary art because it isn't (by far)

my favorite era, thus I can be critical (i.e., science). You're right in pointing

him and others out--the love of art is about love, enjoyment, pleasure, no

matter the background. Still, how does Alma Tadema et al. open doors into

another logic or realm of thought? Liechtenstien, I feel, does, at least in the

cross-over between fine art and graphic art. So many other artists have

proceeded to redo (refine) this opening that, maybe, we fail to see it half-a-

century later.

Personally, however, my resistance to creating "suburban" art comes from my

experience in a very unimportant, rural gallery (I've not been promoting my

work as much as I should, so this is my sole experience as of yet). In this

gallery, in an artistic community no less, my work (according to the owner)

commands the most conversation. But it doesn't sell that much. Why?

Because, according to the owner, people are looking for work to match their

sofa/etc. In truth, I probably have a lot of pictures that will do that, only I'm not

hanging them. A small story: I was in the gallery that shows Annette

Messager's work (my dissertation is on her oeuvre). A couple is standing

before an installation of torn apart plush animals and photographs. As I'm

looking at this work, I feel everything I've ever lost (or so I believe) through

civilization and (particularly) education. The couple, however, simply say:

Who would hang this in their living room? It was the work of Messager, one of

the most beautiful persons I have ever known and one of the greatest French

artists of our time. Yet they are asking about "living rooms." This also defines

"suburban tastes" for me. I would hang it my living room--in fact, I'd devote my

whole house to it, as Messager does, who sleeps (or did) underneath a new

piece of "Mes Voeux" that was going off to a museum. (Please, look her up,

she's phenomenal. She makes me believe in art.) So, yes, I guess, I'm a bit

hostile to current suburban tastes.

Lastly (and forgive me, everyone, for taking too long), about "conversation." In

part, you understood me. It is about audience. Only I'm more concerning with

engaging in a conversation with artists and art history (however vague). For

instance, most of my artwork reflects back on the eighteenth-century, adding a

twist to the standard tropes and (hopefully) engaging with that history. One of

my collage works, "The Fall of Medusa in the Temple of Athena," takes a

typical eighteenth-century trope of "Medusa" (i.e., mythological art). Instead of

portraying the snake-headed beast, however, I show the onslaught of the

rape that makes Athena turn her into a monster, with Athena looking passively

on. Why does redoing the myth matter? Sexual politics, maybe. Or the idea

that it matters how we understand these (dying?) myths. As a woman, I don't

want a new mythology--I want to understand the layers of the ones we know.

Roger, does this answer your questions? Whether or not you return to this

point, it means alot to have you ask. I'm far from my friends, too, now

scattering the states for their livelihood. I miss this form of conversation also.

I have the 60mm version, rather than the zoom. I don't know about flash

photography, as I haven't tried to use another flash with the camera. The

attached flash is very strong, particularly in comparison with nikon's setup.

But the bokeh, at least with my camera, is very harsh. I couldn't use it for

portraits specifically. I think my nikon primes are smoother. For portraits, I'd

use my medium format SLR--so I agree with the previous post, since pentax

offers AF.

I recently began working through Mark Nelson's Precision Digital Negatives

formula for creating inkjet negatives. I use Pictorico's White High-Gloss Film.

The problem seems to be the first step: the creation of a "Standard Print Time."

This must be a confusion on my part--and I hope others can rid me of it.

According to the instructions, I formulate the Base Printing Time by seeing

when the first two steps of the Standard Step Wedge (21 steps in my case)

merge. So far, so good, though it creates very long exposures. But then I

proceed to the Color Density Palette. Even after altering the time according to

instructions (x.71), I have a very long exposure. This means that all the color

densities are dark. In other words, there is no patch of white or near-white.

My approach has been to reduce the printing time until I get that patch of

white. However, this creates very, very drastic curves. I've thought about just

creating exposure times by experiments on only the color density palette. In

fact, that's the only way I can get both white and a (reasonable) black on Adox

FB.

In essence, my questions are: 1) have other silver-gelatin printers had the

same problem? And 2) what's the process for getting the Base Printing Time

to calculate the Standard Printing Time?

Process variables: using Epson 2200, warmtone developer, and Iford RC,

Foma FB, and Adox FB papers.

I took a hasselblad, two lenses and three backs (plus filters, etc.) to Rome last

spring. To compensate, I took a very, very small bag for clothes, as I dislike

traveling with more than I can personally handle. That said, the film weighed

a ton. Would I do it again? Yes. The images are the best I've ever taken

while traveling, probably because I had to take so much time with each one. I

never had a problem on the street. No thieves, no "almost" issues. In fact, my

husband thought he'd have to be a bodyguard on the trip; instead, he just

went off and enjoyed himself while I photographed, because he saw how

people in the parks and on the streets looked at it and looked at me. In

essence, most people smiled, pointed, etc., which means I drew a lot of

attention--but in a good way. So, instead of thieves, I found many people who

were amused and taken back to the old days before digital. Several people

stopped me to ask if I was an "artist" (otherwise, why would one carry it). It

sparked a lot of conversations, something I wouldn't have expected. Of

course, if you want to take pictures quietly or without much hub-bub, take a

different camera. There's nothing subtle about a hasselblad. Also, are you

good at hand-holding the camera? I didn't find many places that would allow

a tripod in Rome (though the table-tripod made it past the guards). Also, I was

almost stopped from taking pictures several times (the Vatican, Villa D'Este,

Pantheon, etc), because the guards thought I was a "professional"

(professional photographers have to pay for permits). Indeed, the guards

were the biggest problem in my experience, which shows that bringing a

hasselblad to italy isn't a big deal.

In the beginning of this post, I was very excited, but the energy of the

responses drained me. Let me bare my soul: I'm trained as an art historian. I

love to teach. And the history of art has given me more pleasure than

anything else in the world. Yet, I do not want to teach art history. Why?

Because 1) academics is politics and 2) too many students (particularly "art"

students) don't feel it necessary to express themselves. When I am not sad

about the current disdain for history or for the conversations it opens up (i.e.,

how to see the contemporary world within a historical concept), I laugh. What

can of worms Joseph Beuys let loose!!!!

The post began by pointing to outsider-art. The ironic thing is: if you know to

call it Outsider-Art, you're already in the system that defined it, rather than an

outsider-artist. Who even made this category viable for the world to point to

and debate? In short, the Surrealists (particularly Breton) and Dubufet. In

French art throughout the last century, this awareness of outsider-art by other

well-know artists (i.e., the establishment) has inspired a great deal of

innovations in avant-garde art. But my point is, it doesn't seem correct to use

the term or existence of outsider-art to indicate one's own ability to create art

outside the system. As a previous post pointed out (with no response), most

of these individuals were/are outside the cultural designation of normalcy.

They are not a reason to dismiss the opportunities (and tribulations) of

education.

I don't want to teach art history within this culture or artistic climate, but I do

want to teach. I'm good at it. So I will eventually get that MFA in order to teach

art--not because I think it will transform my work, but because it will bring me

closer to my goal in life (sharing, discussion, communication of thought, and

frank criticism and even hopefully inspiration). Indeed, I can teach what I've

learned from art history more clearly and more importantly in an art

classroom: an artist must put themselves in an ongoing conversation.

That may sound elitist. Indeed, it is in part. I feel comfortable saying so,

because I don't think "elite" is an ugly word, particularly in a culture that does

not share Joseph Beuys political ambition when he declared "Everyone is an

artist" but, instead, uses a watered-down idea of his politics to call everything

art. I wish to note: he was in the system. He taught. He sought to revitalize

academic art from within, and he was highly aware of the history of German

art, culture, and history that proceeded and dominated his life. I have met a

number of people/artists who use their creative skills to pursue such politics

(such as politics of identity) without artistic training--so it, of course, is done.

I'm just noting that this concept that "everyone is an artist" and that personal

expression is important has a historical foundation within the academic

sphere. I would also note that Beuys not only changed art within the

academic environment, but that he also changed how art historians view/deal

with/discuss contemporary art. Art history isn't the bad guy here (the

establishment of "isms"), but thoroughly wishes to learn from the artists.

At the same time, the wish to point out that all "successful" artists participate in

a conversation is not elitist. Making calendars, making pretty pictures

according to technical rules is also engaging in a conversation, though that is

the conversation of suburban tastes rather than of art-historical tastes.

I regularly put my own photographic work into two categories: pretty pictures

(i.e., those that are photographically equisite but do not raise cultural or

historical connections or questions) or "artworks" (those that strive, even if

unsuccessfully as yet, to engage in cultural/historical conversations). It is true

that, because of my historical background (beginning at the age of 14 when I

began studying Michelangelo), I hold the "pretty pictures" in lower estime. I

fight myself on this daily. But, at least, I know what "conversation" I want to be

in, whether or not I become important. Moreover, I realize that a

"conversation" exists, which is the point of "education" to begin with.

In the beginning of this post, I was very excited, but the energy of the

responses drained me. Let me bare my soul: I'm trained as an art historian. I

love to teach. And the history of art has given me more pleasure than

anything else in the world. Yet, I do not want to teach art history. Why?

Because 1) academics is politics and 2) too many students (particularly "art"

students) don't feel it necessary to express themselves. When I am not sad

about the current disdain for history or for the conversations it opens up (i.e.,

how to see the contemporary world within a historical concept), I laugh. What

can of worms Joseph Beuys let loose!!!!

The post began by pointing to outsider-art. The ironic thing is: if you know to

call it Outsider-Art, you're already in the system that defined it, rather than an

outsider-artist. Who even made this category viable for the world to point to

and debate? In short, the Surrealists (particularly Breton) and Dubufet. In

French art throughout the last century, this awareness of outsider-art by other

well-know artists (i.e., the establishment) has inspired a great deal of

innovations in avant-garde art. But my point is, it doesn't seem correct to use

the term or existence of outsider-art to indicate one's own ability to create art

outside the system. As a previous post pointed out (with no response), most

of these individuals were/are outside the cultural designation of normalcy.

They are not a reason to dismiss the opportunities (and tribulations) of

education.

I don't want to teach art history within this culture or artistic climate, but I do

want to teach. I'm good at it. So I will eventually get that MFA in order to teach

art--not because I think it will transform my work, but because it will bring me

closer to my goal in life (sharing, discussion, communication of thought, and

frank criticism and even hopefully inspiration). Indeed, I can teach what I've

learned from art history more clearly and more importantly in an art

classroom: an artist must put themselves in an ongoing conversation.

That may sound elitist. Indeed, it is in part. I feel comfortable saying so,

because I don't think "elite" is an ugly word, particularly in a culture that does

not share Joseph Beuys political ambition when he declared "Everyone is an

artist" but, instead, uses a watered-down idea of his politics to call everything

art. I wish to note: he was in the system. He taught. He sought to revitalize

academic art from within, and he was highly aware of the history of German

art, culture, and history that proceeded and dominated his life. I have met a

number of people/artists who use their creative skills to pursue such politics

(such as politics of identity) without artistic training--so it, of course, is done.

I'm just noting that this concept that "everyone is an artist" and that personal

expression is important has a historical foundation within the academic

sphere. I would also note that Beuys not only changed art within the

academic environment, but that he also changed how art historians view/deal

with/discuss contemporary art. Art history isn't the bad guy here (the

establishment of "isms"), but thoroughly wishes to learn from the artists.

At the same time, the wish to point out that all "successful" artists participate in

a conversation is not elitist. Making calendars, making pretty pictures

according to technical rules is also engaging in a conversation, though that is

the conversation of suburban tastes rather than of art-historical tastes.

I regularly put my own photographic work into two categories: pretty pictures

(i.e., those that are photographically equisite but do not raise cultural or

historical connections or questions) or "artworks" (those that strive, even if

unsuccessfully as yet, to engage in cultural/historical conversations). It is true

that, because of my historical background (beginning at the age of 14 when I

began studying Michelangelo), I hold the "pretty pictures" in lower estime. I

fight myself on this daily. But, at least, I know what "conversation" I want to be

in, whether or not I become important. Moreover, I realize that a

"conversation" exists, which is the point of "education" to begin with.

I bought a Hasselblad as my first MF camera, as I'd been wanting one for

several years and wanted the 6x6 format. It's the only serious MF camera I

have, so listen to what others have to say about serious options. The

hasselblad system will cost much more, which means acquiring lens more

slowly. But you recognize this, and it doesn't put you off. I suggest a less

expensive body than the 503cw, since you can add an additional body later.

Perhaps a 503cxi or 503cx. I'd also suggest purchasing a focal length that

doesn't replicate your Roleiflex, such as a 60mm or a 50mm. I own the 60mm

and 120mm and find it covers me in all but the most extreme circumstances. I

feel a 60mm and 150mm/180mm would do the same, if I were to start over

again. In truth, the real advantage of the system (or ones like it) are multiple

backs. I'd rather carry two or three backs and one lens than multiple lens.

Being able to change film quickly and without waste has taught be a great

deal about matching film with subject.

I traveled through India for a year doing research, then spent the following

summer in Delhi doing research in a museum. I was canvasing large towns

and small villages for textile weavers. As an art history student, I of course

took slides--all 100iso Ektacrome. It worked out well. I wouldn't recommend

highly saturated color film, whether slide or negative, since the color is

already there (of course, I did focus on women's textiles and the people who

made them).

You asked for tips. Safety really is about demeanor. I'm a woman traveling

alone. There were some incredibly beautiful moments because of that, as

well as some horrible ones. Along the way, I learned what I called my secrets.

One was not to look people in the eyes too liberally (in fact, to this day, I do

not). Rather, looking someone in the eyes is a path to connection (or, at least,

it was for me). So, if you photograph people, engaging them with the eyes

and a smile can go along ways. And this can translate into every

circumstance--from rick-shaws to street vendors (I only ate what was sold on

the streets, as it is the best food I've ever found), etc. Of course, maybe you

know this. But I was initially shocked at how a smile could melt someone and

how quickly they became an uncle or aunt or sister along the way. If you want

a safety tip, this is one--because there are times you are going to want to sit

under a chai-wala's umbrella and simply close your eyes.

Do not be afraid of rick-shaws and their prices. I never once had a problem--

they ALL used their meter for me. When going to a more remote place, they

waited outside for me--sure, for a reasonable price, but it makes sense to pay.

Of course, I know Hindi (or Urdu, according to the rick-shaw drivers) and no

one took me for an North American (I speak Hindi with a French accent for

some reason, according to my Bengali professor). Thus, my second tip is to

learn a bit of Hindi before you go. Respect is important. Showing it through

formal language (even in a few phrases, and especially in how you address

people) will impress. Moreover, it will allow you talk with the chai-wala on the

street, thus nearly ensuring sincere capitivating photos. Then, if you have a

confrontation in a public place and the policeman is laughing with the gang of

boys (this happened), you can tell the cop off in Hindi and watch him and rest

sculk away.

Despite the few moments of real terror (I had to pull out a knife twice in Uttar

Pradesh), I largely found the experience uplifting and not dangerous

(urksome, often, but not dangerous). In not even the cheapest of hostels/

hotels were my bags bothered. The children, though, have clever fingers--a

girl in a Gujurati village slipped a gold safety-pin right off my kameez. I

wouldn't have known it if she hadn't pointed out it was "missing." But that was

the only "trouble" I had as far as theives. Leaving largish back-packs in a train

station is very safe (of course, use locks on all baggage). I spent two weeks in

Orrisa with a small messenger bag with a change of clothes, shampoo, and

my camera, then picked up the bag with no problems. My Indian husband

and his family cannot believe all this, being from a wealthy priest family. We

are going for two weddings in June. This is what I'll bring (by now, my photos

are not for slide presentations but for exhibition): knock-about SLR with wide

and portrait lens, Fuji 645 (because my husband needs something with

autofocus), a table-top tripod, lightmeter, and an "array" of film. If this is for

exhibition, I recommend a variety of ISOs and switching out when necessary.

Film adds bulk, but you really don't need more than a few pair of clothes on

your back, a journal and/or book (?), a very light towel, and the swiss army

knife you can pick up in Delhi (not to pull on people, just incredibly useful).

My very last two tips: in Delhi, go to one of those culture houses that sells all

kinds of regional artisan items and get a man's wool shawl. This served me

for a year as an extra bed covering (trains, buses), something to sit on, a

jacket, etc. Second, the national textile and handicrafts museum often

showcases regional artisans making their art. They love to talk and allow

photography at no charge. (Ask the rickshaw driver to wait, as they are not

readily available near that avenue.)

I bought a 6x6 camera a year ago. I went through all the postings I could find

on scanners. I then decided an Epson 4870 was good enough for 11x14 and

bought it. It was--but for only four months. The minute I made a prints for a

show, I felt shame in hanging them. They looked mushy. What was good

enough for home was not good enough to sell--my digital camera could do a

lot better. I'm not a "numbers" person, I go with my gut. In truth, the Epson

sometimes succeeds (really, it can be good, though I have no idea why), but

most of time it doesn't. I plucked up the courage to buy a Nikon 9000 in the

end.

I never bought a 80mm lens. I knew I needed something wider as a standard

lens, thus chose a 60mm and 120mm outfit. In truth, this has served all my

needs, from portraiture to landscape to travel. I love the perspective of the

60mm lens as well as it's tonality. However, I suspect it's too close to a 80mm

range to be a worthwhile investment. My CFI lens (KEH) was within your

budget. You may be able to find a 50mm to fit your budget as well. I will say

that, in close corners, the 60mm can be cramped (only during travel, while

wandering alleys). I have no interest in a 40mm SLR lens (the weight is

extraordinary), so have something wondered "what if" I'd chosen 50mm and

80mm lens to start. On the other hand, I can walk around with only the 60mm

and be content, which I could not do with the 80mm (personal preference).

I'm not as well versed as the others here, but I advocate the hasselblad. Used

prices are so reasonable, I'm thinking of another body. The lens are smooth--I

thought I wanted "sharp," but I discovered something more. CF lens are going

for a good price, even at KEH.

I recently bought a GA645 as an all-around camera, since I can't carry the

hasselblad all the time. Small, etc., so I guess a nice choice. But so far, the

bw images don't compare to the hasselblad. Of course, I haven't done the full

shoot-out--I realize it took 200 rolls from the Hasselblad to figure out how the

lens were working (what was me, what was the film, what was the lens). So

take this with a grain of salt--but I don't yet find the images as smooth as my

nikkor primes. Maybe it's a color camera (I've used bw almost exclusively

since getting the hasselblad, so I haven't been using color film).

I'd love it if anyone could tell me I'm wrong.

I would upload an image, but I can't seem to figure out how to do it (there are

images I'd love to have critiqued).

All the answers here are very helpful, especially the TLRs and a hand held

meter (for an affordable method). Yet, one of the most valuable things about

medium format is the opportunity to have multiple backs. These outfits are

probably more expensive at first, but I have loved the freedom this offers. I

moved to MF from a Nikon system as well. I thought the Nikon pictures were

wonderful until MF--my black and white has improved tremendously, so much

that I barely work in color anymore.

I'll say, I don't know what the rules are at this particular museum. Yet, I know

this is what I love about Berlin museums--I can take pictures all I want and it

doesn't matter (at least in most). That said, it isn't the attitude I've found in

most places in Europe (although watercolors and drawings are encouraged,

even smiled upon). As far as my own photography is concerned, I stick with

the rules and put away my camera when necessary (but, then, I'm about

discretion, though that's hard to come by with a hasselblad), but I love having

photographs of great sculptures that work in the collages that I make. It is a

shame that not all museums allow photography--but, on a side note, there is

an avenue of avant-garde photography that addresses museum issues.

Some museums are aware of this (if not most)--perhaps this contributes to

their rules (allowing permits for avant-garde artists making statements about

museum politics).

That said, a hasselblad makes one a target, perhaps. I've gotten more

attention with that camera than any other. It seems to scream professional,

however a guard defines it. I generally smile (I look like a twenty-year-old

sorority girl, instead of an over-thirty art historian), and the guards always

back off, thinking that I don't have a thought in my head. My point is: a

hasselblad makes you stand out, for good or for bad (people always move out

of my way when I'm toting the thing)--it's part of the era of dslr's/point-and-

shoots. I feel bad for you (as part of the art history/art education sector). I

wish the relationship between viewing art and responding to it (whether

intellectually/emotionally and physically, such as photography) could meet

within the institution.

This is a rather old post (people don't seem to respond to post for very long on

this forum), but I'll give it a try. I'll admit it--I'm both an academic and a

photographer/writer. These two aspects both inform and pull at each other.

Yet Barthes . . . Barthes is the very reason why I can believe in contemporary

post-modern thought after having memorized so many logic systems over the

years. Don't get me wrong, I love Derrida, Freud, Irigaray, etc--but Barthes

makes me gasp in pleasure. This book was no different. The difficulty with

Barthes is that he plays two games at once. He's both academic and intimate-

-something not typically done, particularly in philosophy. Moreover, he favors

neither, instead exposing the faults and the beauties of each. His aim, often,

is both to demystify a social process (the reading and making of photographs)

as well as to call for an enjoyment of it nonetheless--i.e., to inspire a knowing

enjoyment that is both cruel and soft. Of course, this (my statement) is not a

clear-cut explanation of Camera Lucida. I'm not sure one could offer a

straight-cut explanation or quickly diagram his justifications. But I do think that

the main purpose of Camera Lucida is to create a system of reading

photography that can both identify and reconcile its social value and its value

to a particular individual. There's a tendency in the world today to answer the

question of "art" as "whatever I call it." That's fine--that attitude (rejection of

classical aesthetic codes of judgement) has led to amazing changes in art

and reception from Duchamp to Beuys. Yet Barthes seems interested in

reconciling (in philosophy) aesthetics with personal interpretation, which

remains a fraught topic.

If you're still interested in this book (despite all these notes denegrating

Barthes' writing style), check out some essays from a university library. Read

Kristeva's translated books on Revolt and Intimacy, in which she discusses

Barthes beautifully. Also, read Freud--or Didi-Huberman on photography/art.

My point is--while I hope readers (like myself) can enjoy such complicated

works without background research, it's a bit hard to understand it completely

without reading more widely.

The person who asked what kind of hotel you typically stay in seems (to me)

to have asked the right type of question. What kind of traveling do you do?

I've done several kinds: traveling through India for a year in search of saris,

living in Paris, Berlin and other places for long periods at a time, and then

backpacking (hostel type) across portions of Europe. How I travel really

determines what kind of equipment I bring. For road travel, the best solution

has been either a small 35mm with one lens or a digital point and shoot with a

very tiny computer (the former for India, the latter for European backpacking).

But when I can be in one city as a base, medium format wins out. The images

are gorgeous, at least in black and white. But I wouldn't want to carry 150rolls

of roll film on a train every few days (or, at least, my husband doesn't want to

carry it, except as carry-on luggage on the airplane). IMHO, I'd tailor the

camera purchase based on your next trip(s). I'm considering an X-Pan for a

future back-packing trip, just because of the weight of roll film relative to the

number of pictures I can take--but I'm also considering the exact camera you

currently have. That said, the Mamiya 7 is superb--if you can carry the roll

film, it's the most phenomenal tool.

Wilde's book on the hasselblad system explains how to activate this setting. If

I'm remembering correctly, you need to be in Manual mode, then press the up/

down buttons simultaneously, then input the correct setting. Note that this

requires that you know your exposure, whether through a light meter or

reciprocity factor. I haven't yet used this, so I might have the technical details

wrong. Just pick up the guide at your local library and flip through it--I've

found every answer I've ever needed there.