Few in this century might understand the concept of the 8x10 inch glossy photograph. From the moment that the only practical method of inserting a photograph in a newspaper, which was and is called the halftone process, began in 1873 in a long gone New York City newspaper, it featured a photograph of the Steinway Building. Photographs had to be glossy. In that age, until the 20th century began to close, and when scanners came into being, the only way a black looked like a true black, was when the photograph was glossy.
Producing a glossy 8x10 was a pain in the neck as special dryers had to be used to make the glossy look perfect. If the fixer was not fresh the photographs had stains.
With the advent of the scanner the glossy became obsolete. But it took a while. Illford invented a photographic paper that was plastic coated. It was called Ilfospeed and there was a version that had a controllable contrast called Ilfospeed Multigrade. I used this paper lots for my contribution to magazines and newspapers like the Globe and Mail. We knew that there was no way this paper (because of the plastic coating) could be rendered archival.
Now I can see quite a few of these 8x10s in my files developing what to me is a lovely deterioration. In this blog, the example is my portrait of architect Bing Thom I took in December 1995. Because he had designed a house in Southlands, that included a swimming pool, and I had been photographing lovely women in bathtubs for a show, I asked him to pose in the pool.
This idea of the lovely in ugly deterioration has been in my mind lots. With the advent in the interest in film cameras, photographers are buying pristine like-new cameras and putting them behind glass in shelves. There is an emphasis on their beauty and what prime lens the camera came with. Few use the cameras to take pictures with them. To me that is tragic.
The camera in this blog is a used Asahi Pentax S-3 I purchased in 1962 at Foto Rudiger, on Avenida Venustiano Carranza, in Mexico City in 1962. As far as I can tell nobody would want to buy it as it really looks used. As in Thom’s deteriorated 8x10, I see beauty in the brass showing of my camera. Mechanically it works well.
My philosophy is, that when I bought my cameras they were functional. It is irrelevant what my daughters will do with all my cameras when I meet my oblivion. Thus when I am dead, all my cameras will be in perfect working order. That satisfies my sense of order.
All the above reminds me of my grandmother and I going to an art opening in Mexico City in the late 60s. It was an show by a young Filipino painter. We faced a large painting of a pair of Mexican huaraches. The painter approached us and my Abuelita said to him, “Why would you paint something so ugly?” His answer is one I will never forget, “Ah, but the beauty of ugliness.”
