I recently read a terrific piece written by the great Dan Milnor entitled It Doesn’t Matter. You can check it out on his website at https://shifter.media/creative-it-doesnt-matter/.  In it he makes a persuasive argument that what really matters is the picture, not whether it was created by film or digital means, and those of us who think about or promote our work as film-based first are barking up the wrong tree.

Here is a portion of what Dan says and as much as I support film and all analogue processes I think he pretty much nails it.

“Speaking of today, all these years later, we still have people trying to sell us on their use of film. Let me be the first and last to say, “Nobody cares.” This is such an old, tired, dead story. The same can be said of those hyping the fact they made their photobook from iPhone images. There is NOTHING novel about this. NOTHING. If you are leading your conversation with your camera brand, or the fact you are using film, or that you are using an iPhone, you are screaming from the rooftops that you, my friend, are an amateur. (Nothing wrong with being an amateur but talking about this nonsense isn’t helping you.)

The vast majority, I’m talking 90% of all the film photography I see today, is subpar. Based more on the fact it was made on film than the light, timing and composition of the work itself. These essential building blocks of good photography often ignored entirely as the geeks orgy out over emulsion cliches. The vast majority of film work I see is static. Frozen. Derivative. …. Film photography has brought us the blizzard of mundane. However, before you go putting a nail in the coffin of film photography, there are exceptions to this rule. One of the best portrait photographers working in the celebrity space shoots film but you would never know it. He doesn’t talk about it. He just makes great work. He’s a professional. There are good photographers using film who focus on what matters; the work. Prosumers focus on materials. Pros focus on the take.”

Harsh? Yes. Accurate? Pretty much so.

I think the worst culprits are the technically perfect and/or extremely large black and white analog pictures. Both that are devoid of any heart and soul and are mediocre at best. I know this and so do you, and I can think of a number of photographers whose work falls in this category.

All the above having been said, does it mean black and white analog photography doesn’t matter anymore? Of course not!  It does matter for the many reasons I’ve discussed here over the years and continue to believe are true. Here are a few. The look and feel of the print that you can see into, the craft that goes into making it, the total effort it takes to produce great analog images in a world of digitalia gone mad.  Yes it matters!  But … what matters most is the picture itself. Is it meaningful to you? If not, it won’t be to anyone else who sees it. Does it speak to you? When you look at it does it make you smile, laugh or cry? Do you care about it? If not, well find another way to spend your time.

Think about it. I haven’t stopped since I read Dan’s piece.

Stay well,

Michael

I was lucky enough to take two of John Sexton’s workshops when I was much younger. Later, I would come down and visit with John when I had to be in Silicon Valley for business.  It goes without saying that John is a gifted photographer, but I can also tell you without hesitation that he’s a tremendous teacher and a lot of fun to be around. During one of the workshops John asked us if we would like to visit Ansel Adams’ home. Really? There I was standing on the hallowed ground in the holy temple that was his darkroom. And while I didn’t kneel down and kiss the floor, it was a profound and mind-altering experience I have never forgotten!!!!

While I haven’t seen John in some years we have stayed in touch and I always look forward to receiving his wonderfully informative newsletter. The above is apropos because the latest newsletter contains a marvelous and humorous essay chronicling John’s first day on the job as Ansel’s Technical Assistant. With John’s kind permission I am posting it here as I’m sure you will enjoy reading it as much as I have!  Thanks John!

If you would like to see John’s entire newsletter, you can do so here: http://www.johnsexton.com/newsletter07-2024.html Finally, if you would like to subscribe to John’s newsletter you can do it here: Subscribe to John’s Newsletter

MY FIRST DAY WORKING FOR ANSEL ADAMS 45 YEARS AGO!

It is hard for me to believe that 45 years have passed since one of the most significant changes in my life. This change involved leaving my home in Southern California, with my newlywed wife of two weeks, along with all our possessions to move to Monterey, California. The reason for this move was my employment status had changed.

On Monday, July 23, 1979, I started a new job as Ansel Adams’ Technical Assistant. I was both excited, and a bit nervous, when I pulled into Ansel and Virginia’s driveway that morning. I had no idea how our friendship and working relationship would evolve, and we had never discussed how long my tenure might be in this position. I could never have imagined the profound impact it would have on me as a photographer and on every aspect of my life. I certainly anticipated learning a great deal about the craft and aesthetics of photography, which I did, but I learned so much more.

In addition to his amazing talent as a photographer and printmaker, Ansel was a charismatic character. He was a dedicated, ethical, honest to a fault, and extremely hardworking. He strove for perfection in his photography and tolerated excellence. Ansel seamlessly combined his commitment for preserving the planet with his passion for photography. He used his photographic skills to convey his close relationship with, and respect for, the natural environment and the irreplaceable value of the wilderness experience. Ansel’s photographs came from his heart, and his mastery of photography came from a keen mind and decades of practice. These qualities together created a compelling legacy of images that still inspire legions of people today, more than 42 years after his passing.

My job included a variety of tasks, from putting out the trash on Thursday evenings to assisting Ansel on the largest printing project of his life, The Museum Set, and conducting technical research and testing for the revision of Ansel’s books, The Negative and The Print. Just over three months after I began working for Ansel full-time, I had the honor of assisting him when he made the official portraits of President Jimmy Carter and Vice President Mondale. We worked with both his 4×5″ view camera and the massive 20×24″ Polaroid camera.

In 1980, Ansel asked me to take over the directorship of his annual Yosemite workshops and to also be an instructor. This was a great honor, as my initial learning experience with Ansel was attending his 1973 workshop as a student—just seven years before and that experience had changed my life.

I am comfortable saying that Ansel and I had a wonderful friendship and working relationship. We spent countless hours together in the darkroom, and I had the opportunity to travel with him on many of his trips, helping with lectures, attending exhibitions, and assisting during book signings. At Brentano’s bookstore in New York City in September 1979 the line was so long it snaked around the block! A few weeks after I began, David Hume Kennerly’s iconic portrait of Ansel appeared on the cover of Time magazine—the only time a photographer has appeared on the cover of Time! His reputation then expanded to an even larger audience.

From time-to-time people have asked me what the qualifications were for being asked by Ansel to be his assistant. (I did NOT apply for the position!). Well, based on this Polaroid SX-70 it would appear that I satisfactorily met the following criteria:

– Beard
– Glasses
– Enjoy refreshing beverages (for medicinal purposed only!)
– Wear a bolo tie
– Wear a cowboy hat (borrowed for the photograph, but evidently that counts!)

(Sorry, this picture could not transfer from John’s newsletter. Please see the link above.  Michael Marks)

Ansel and John at Workshop Party in Yosemite
Photographer Unknown

Despite his fame, Ansel’s name and phone number were always listed in the phone book. Almost every day, a photographer would arrive at 5 p.m. with their portfolio nervously in hand, hoping to share it with Ansel and seek his honest comments. I remember the first time I visited Ansel at his home in September 1973. It was an amazing experience, and I tried to visit three or four times a year with new work as the years passed and our friendship grew.

Ansel was a wonderful and generous mentor. He had no secrets and loved to share and encourage others in their photography. He believed in my abilities as a teacher so much that he proposed I work a four-day week. If I worked five days a week, I would accumulate a week off every month. He wanted me to continue teaching my own workshop programs and those offered by the Friends of Photography, in addition to his own workshops.

One of the joys of the job was laughing and telling jokes with Ansel. Everyone who knew him well agrees that Ansel loved to laugh. It may have been a type of release valve for the intensity with which he approached his photography, environmental activism, writing, teaching, and many other things. Ansel often said his least favorite day of the week was Sunday–as he didn’t have anyone around to help him, so he couldn’t get as much done that day!

When I arrived at Ansel’s that first morning, I found a one-page letter on my desk outlining my new responsibilities. This humorous and cherished note served as my ‘job description.’ One excerpt reads, It will be a Godsend if things are put in their Right Places and so listed. I have all the “stock” to open a Flea Market!! The image was made as we gathered Ansel’s photographic equipment in preparation for our departure to his annual Yosemite Workshops, and might offer evidence to support his statement.

(Sorry, this picture could not transfer from John’s newsletter. Please see the link above. Michael Marks)

Packing for Ansel’s annual Yosemite Workshops
©John Sexton. All rights reserved.

After 45 years, I remain grateful for the wonderful experience I had serving as his assistant from 1979 until late 1982. When we decided it was time for me to go out on my own, and for Chris Rainier to take over as Photographic Assistant, Ansel proposed creating a new position for me as his Technical Consultant. Ansel and I continued to work on projects together, from time to time I processed film for him, and I tried to help him in every possible way while pursuing my own photography. I remained his consultant until he passed away April 22, 1984. Over the years, I have also served as Special Projects Consultant to The Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust.

Reflecting on the experiences I’ve had since receiving the unexpected job offer from Ansel early in the morning of March 15, 1979, I realize how fortunate I have been. This opportunity, combined with the privilege of pursuing my own photographic career and teaching photography for over half a century, makes me feel incredibly lucky. As Ansel often said, The harder you work, the luckier you get!

Stay well,

Michael

I nearly didn’t make it to the Addison Gallery of American Art on the lovely campus of the Phillips Academy in Andover, MA. As I was passing the outskirts of Boston, locking in bumper to bumper traffic with the temperature well into the nineties, all of a sudden a warning bell coming from my dashboard started ringing at ear piercing levels. That and a large warning light was flashing in front of me with a message that the oil pressure was low and the engine had been shut down.

#$%^&*%$^?!

Funny thing, although not at the moment, was that my car was still moving forward, same as everyone else locked in the scrum. Ok, no need to panic, that is not until the same light show and high decibel alert repeated itself two minutes later!  Better try to get over to the shoulder on the right side of the expressway. Only problem was I was in the middle of about four or five lanes, made even worse because cars were also merging on from a long access lane. I soon remembered why I hate driving around Boston … all those friendly and non-aggressive drivers!  After what seemed forever I finally was able get over to the shoulder and pull out the manual for my 2010 VW GTI.  Yeh, at fourteen years old and closing in on 180,000 miles I know it’s getting a little long in the tooth, but with a six speed manual transmission and lots of cargo space, it’s been a great road warrior and a friend. And besides, all the teenagers think I’m still cool when they see it!

After reading the manual and popping the hood to check the oil, all appeared to be as it should. I called my mechanic from my cell and he said as long as the oil level showing on the dipstick seemed to be ok than probably all was well. Yet, the prudent thing would have been to get off the road and find someone to take a look, but that’s not me. So I let things sit for a few minutes, then rejoined the traffic jam. Well, all’s well the end’s well and in about an hour I pulled up in front of the museum!  Spoiler alert … I did make it home without further incident and a couple of days later took my old buddy in for a scheduled oil change. Turns out it was down a half a quart. I hope it’s not a sign!

I had been to the Addison once before. It was as beautiful as I remembered it, and a must see if you are in the Boston area. I also had seen Frank’s work before, including a complete exhibit of The Americans. I also own a copy of his seminal book, so I was prepared for what I would be seeing … or so I thought.  I’d heard of Webb before, but to be honest, I wasn’t really familiar with his work. But viewing the two men’s work together made the Robert Frank and Todd Webb: Across America, 1955 show an unexpected surprise and a true revelation!

Both men traveled across America in 1955 for US survey projects made possible by Guggenheim fellowships, yet neither had any knowledge about the other’s work!  Webb did it by bike, boat and by foot, making over ten thousand photographs. Strangely his work was never published. Frank made a number of road trips, producing almost twenty eight thousand images, of which eighty three were selected for publication in what became The Americans.

The four gallery rooms contained one great picture after picture depicting people carrying on their daily lives, along with the buildings in which they lived, worked and socialized in. There were also roadside signage and other attractions and oddities seen along the way. While there were differences in their work, both photographers were attempting to refute the myth of 1950s America and show the inequalities that existed. Frank may have taken the ultimate photographic road trip across America just before everything changed forever with the Sixties. And perhaps Frank’s unvarnished view of America and American life may have been as significant as rock and roll, the counter culture and the rest of the fallout from the Viet Nam War in changing the way we looked at ourselves. Webb’s work, shows that what Frank captured was no fluke.

Seen together, Frank’s work seems to have more of an edge and a greater intensity to it. Webb’s work showing more humanity.  Seen interspersed together they capture a true sense of the time. In fact. you might think all the pictures were made by the same person who happened to occasionally change things up just a bit for a slight adjustment in point of view.

Almost all of the black and white photographs seemed to be about 11×14 in size, with a few being larger. Frank’s images were all silver gelatin prints. Webb’s were ink jet prints, made in 2023. Perhaps no original prints exist and for a show large digital printing makes things more convenient. I have no idea. Again, as was the case with the Fran Orlando show, the reproductions were first class. Yet another disappointment, but far outweighed by the opportunity to see Webb’s great work!

What a show! Needless to say I bought the book that accompanied it!  Unfortunately Robert Frank and Todd Webb: Across America, 1955 only runs to July 31^st at the Addison, so if you live nearby or are in the area I recommend getting there ASAP! I’m not sure what the show’s next stop is, but I see it will be about an hour’s drive from Doylestown at the Brandywine Museum of Art from February 9th – to May 4^th, 2025.

I’ll probably see it again!

Stay well,

Michael

One of Monalog’s members told me about an exhibit I should see and when he makes a strong recommendation I pay attention. I was able to visit the Roosevelt Project: Photographs by Fran Orlando exhibit on the last day before it closed at Bucks County Community College’s Hicks Art Center Gallery. Monalog had one of its first shows there and it’s a beautiful gallery.

During 1979-1980, Orlando photographed residents of the small town of Roosevelt, New Jersey. The town sprung to life in the 1930s as a New Deal project to relocate Jewish garment workers from New York City to the country. It ultimately failed as a social experiment but became a mecca for artists, writers and musicians.

The images Orlando made are sensitive and well seen. All were black and white and they were tastefully sized. Still, I felt letdown.

Originally the pictures were produced as silver gelatin prints and I am quite certain, they were wonderful. But sometime after that Orlando left the darkroom behind and forty five plus years later she felt they were part of the past. She felt times had changed as had technology, and she could not go back. So the original negatives were scanned and printed digitally.

I respect Orlando’s decision as an artist … it just makes me a bit sad. That having been said, I have to say that these are the finest digital prints I have seen, but that’s not really the point. Hot on the heels of my Russell Lee exhibit experience this was yet another disappointment. Not the magnitude concerning Lee, but a disappointment nevertheless. Why? Well, as good as the digital prints looked, they were not in my judgment what they could have and should been … that is what they originally were envisioned to be. Yes, technology has moved on and certainly it is easier to make a digital print than a silver gelatin one in the darkroom, but creating great art is not about easy … is it?

Just my point of view, and nothing I’ve said should take anything away from Orlando’s wonderful work … I just wish it had been presented otherwise.

Stay well,

Michael

A few weeks ago I drove to Washington, DC to see the exhibit Power & Light: Russell Lee Coal Survey at the National Archives Museum just before it closed. I left early enough that morning to beat the Philadelphia rush hour traffic, but had to endure the real mess that begins as you approach Baltimore. Nevertheless I got to my destination with a bit of time to spare so I could stay on schedule and beat the afternoon rush hour going home.

Russell Lee is best known for his Farm Security Administration work during the Great Depression, but this exhibit focused on images he made in 1946, just following the conclusion of a national coal strike.  The photographs were made primarily in Kentucky and West Virginia.  Along with pictures of the miners at work, what really stood out were those of miners and their families, at home, in church and at play.  From what I could tell looking at a picture of him accompanying the exhibit, they were made with a hand held 4×5 Crown Graphic, but I know he used Leica’s for his FSA work.

Here’s the thing, the pictures were great, but unfortunately they were displayed as overly large unframed digitally produced facsimiles. One was even cut out and wrapped around the top of a doorway.  $#%^&*! I’m sure many found this to their liking, but to me it diminished the importance of his work and the sensitivity of his vision. In short, the pictures, and Russell Lee deserved better … much better!  I think a far different approach … silver gelatin prints of sensible size would have yielded a far better result!

After the frustration of the Lee show I decided to take a flyer and swing by a camera shop a few minutes’ drive from the Archives.  Photo Pro was a go to for me when I lived in the area and they always had great stuff to tempt me. As I crossed Pennsylvania Avenue I just had a feeling there would be something special with my name on it!

The last time I was there, maybe ten years ago, I snagged a great Leica lens I thought I’d never be able to get, and this time there was plenty of wonderful goodies in the glass display cases.  After fondling a Leica M4 and Mamiya RB67 I noticed something you don’t see very often … an absolutely cherry Zone VI modified Pentax one degree digital spot meter!!!!  Yes, yes, yes!!! I already own two of them, but I had been thinking about getting another one to keep in a third camera bag … and there it was!!!  It even came with a wonderful and useful Zone VI leather holster, and the original box, complete with modification paperwork signed by Richard Ritter, who still calibrates the meters!!!

Not surprisingly, I had no choice, and a few minutes later I was all smiles as I began my drive home with a Photo Pro bag on the passenger seat.  What started with somewhat of a disappointment ended with a nice little surprise. The next day I gave Richard a call and arranged for him to recalibrate the new meter as well as my others. Good idea, since I couldn’t remember the last time I had them checked. A few days later off they all went. Hopefully they’ll be back in my camera bags this week. 

All’s well that ends well!

Stay well,

Michael

On one of my walks this week I started to think … Hey, there were a lot of Leica’s at the Mermaid Parade, and they stood out from the masses of black plastic digitalia surrounding me, mostly all equipped with bazooka sized lenses. Trouble was that every time I saw one hanging around someone’s neck it made me feel good, and every time I said hello, smiled or gave an acknowledging nod to a fellow traveler I got bupkis!

That’s right.  Every time I attempted to display my comradery I got the cold shoulder! What the $%#%^&* Could it be because around my neck there hung such a camera?

It didn’t bother me the first time or two, but after being blown off four or five times I began to wonder what was going on here. Was it a competitive thing between aging white men … M2 and M3 vs M6 or MP or MA? And then there was the guy with a Rollei. Forget it … he didn’t even make eye contact!

Am I reading too much into this or was there something sinister at play here? And what does this portend for our democracy and world peace?  After way too much thinking about this I think I came to the answer … it was my old tiny chrome lenses with equally ancient metal shades attached to them. They weren’t the overly large modern black lenses with the name Sumilux and/or the letters ASPH or APO in bright white adorning their barrels.

And what if I had an even older Leica IIIG, or God forbid a IIIF or IIIC with some kind of collapsable lens?  Perhaps they might have thought of me as quaint … but probably not.

So where’s this little diatribe going anyway? Is this a case of White geezers with excess disposable income looking down at mere mortals possessing ancient tools? Little do they know how stupendous the 50mm Rigid Summicron and diminutive 35mm f/2.8 Summaron are. Bozos! These oldies but goodies are my favorite M lenses.  And yes, I’ve owned all the modern glass in these focal lengths, except the 50mm Noctilux and Summicron ASPH that are so ridiculously expensive and/or are designed for unique applications (little if no light) that only the wealthy or those resigned to eating dogfood can afford them. The older lenses are what Cartier Bresson, Frank, Eisenstaedt, Smith et al. used. So come on! Enough said!

I sincerely hope those fellow Leica users made some wonderful pictures … if they were able to get beyond the awe of what they were fondling.

Just remember, you can make a great picture with whatever you have; it’s the picture that matters after all, isn’t it?

Ok … rant completed. Actually, that was a lot of fun and I feel a lot better now!

Stay well,

Michael

Speaking of curiosity (see last week’s entry), I had been trying to get to the annual Coney Island Mermaid Parade for the last five years or so, but something always seemed to get in the way. This year I was determined to get there no matter what and last Saturday I did!

The Mermaid Parade is billed as the nation’s largest art parade and I have no reason to doubt that. There were a ton of participants and the parade route was packed! It turned out to be everything I had hoped for! Following my recent success on Memorial Day I got up bright and early so I could drive to Hamilton station, take the NJ transit train to Penn Station and then walk to the 34^th Street/Herald Square Station to hop on the subway to Coney Island. The gameplan was to get there by 10am … long before the parade started at 1pm. Considering I’d never done this before things worked out quite nicely.

By the time I walked about ten or fifteen minutes to where the staging area was, marchers and floats were starting to arrive and the police had just about finished placing metal barriers along both sides of Surf Avenue to keep the crowds a safe distance from the action.  This gave me more than enough time to meet some very interesting people, schmooze and even make some pictures before things got totally crazy. And while I got kicked out of the staging area several times because I didn’t have press credentials I was happy with the pictures I made. I knew I didn’t get everything, but I felt more than satisfied.

But there was one thing that was really annoying. I told a particularly obnoxious person that the rule in photography when being out there is not to step in front of someone else who is trying to make a picture. And the worst thing is when someone does that so they can take YOUR picture %%#$^&*??  The press photographer next to me agreed and said so! Ok, I get it; I was in New York, but come on!  Anyway, while that happened several times I still had a blast at the Mermaid Parade and maybe even made some serious keepers!

By the time I had gone through two rolls of Tri-X using my Leica M2 and M3 the parade was just about to start and I felt I got everything I needed.  I walked back down Surf Avenue alongside those marching in the parade, passed Nathan’s, then reached Stillwell Avenue and turned into the subway station. As I left the 34^th Street/Herald Square Station to walk back to Penn Station it began to rain. A beautiful and cooling sun shower that made me forget about the approaching gathering storm we could be soon facing. While I hung out for three hours during the worst heat in the East this year, it was well worth the sweat, and this was a wonderful way to end what was truly a great day in New York!

This weekend, on National Camera Day I developed my negatives, along with eight other rolls that were beginning to form a line on my enlarging bench. I can’t wait to see the proof sheets!

Stay well,

Michael

Are you curious? I am, and I think that’s a good thing. It makes me want to photograph events I think might be interesting.  While I don’t know if they will be a bust, usually there are some pleasant surprises, even if most of them are snooze city. Why? Because I’m curious and open to whatever comes along … and I look a lot.

Same thing goes with photographing when I’m just out and about. I think too many people go out looking for things in particular and that’s the problem. If they don’t find any of those things then no pictures and the outing is a bust. I take the opposite approach when on a walkabout .. I have no plans at all!  I’m just looking for things I find interesting. Again, this can lead to some pleasant surprises. Why? Same reason as above. Because I’m curious and open to whatever comes along … and I look a lot.

It turns out for me curiosity is really a good thing for everything I do. Unlike most people, I’ve never had a life plan. Nope. I’ve gone where things have taken me, careerwise and otherwise, and curiosity was an important contributor to all of it. I feel I’ve lived a very entertaining and charmed life and wouldn’t change a thing! And while I am not financially wealthy, I am in so many other ways that matter much more to me.

Curiosity … think of it as a powerful antidote to boredom and the mundane, and an essential contributor to fulfillment and happiness … in photography … and life.

Stay well,

Michael