Sounds like the title of a bad summer horror flick. Well not exactly.

So I decided to go to a camera club meeting, as I have never attended one and thought it might be an opportunity to meet other local photographers.

Everyone was friendly but it served as a reminder of some of reasons why I don’t connect to digital photography. The focus of a presentation was on High Dynamic Range Digital Photography or HDR. A number of terms were discussed, which included those found in the title of this entry, as well as Misalignment, Oversaturation, Raw and HDR Software.

In my opinion, what I heard was a methodology that tries to compensate for lack of dynamic range and is a sloppy non-thinking bracketing substitute for technique and understanding of exposure.

To be honest, in the end I am not sure what I sat through, as I felt it pertained more to the IT department or a PowerPoint presentation than photography!

It probably didn’t help when I introduced myself. I said that I was a Black and White film photographer and had absolutely no clue of what they were talking about!

Things crystalized for me after the break. One or two people brought color prints — almost everything I saw was in color – but everyone else who wanted to show or discuss their work to be judged for possible selection to an upcoming competition did so by displaying it on their laptop. #@$%^&*(){}*&^

I am not a color person as you may have gathered, but if you are going to make color photographs I think digital may be a reasonable way to go. Disclosure Alert: I have a good friend who produces marvelous color photographs made with his Canon and Leica digital cameras! He takes all the time necessary to ensure the desired outcome and prints and displays only those pictures that are meaningful to him.

This having been said, how the heck can anyone fully appreciate the true merits of a photograph on a laptop, viewed in questionable light?

The experience further highlighted what to me are some of the downsides of today’s digital scene. Letting the camera’s onboard computer attempt to solve exposure decisions for the many pictures taken in rapid fire, that are then compensated for and further adjusted by special software on your home computer, that are finally displayed for the photographer and viewers to seen on a computer screen. Argh!

A tiny percentage of the gazillions of digital photographs taken will never be printed, and perhaps it is best left that way. Is it possible that the digital “workflow” process utilized by the vast majority of people does not lend itself to the most “creative” process and the desired result?

I always carry a small notebook in my camera bag. I like it because I’m a visual kind of guy. Of course you could use a small recording device instead (do they still make those?), or that feature on your smartphone if it has one.

In the last year or so, I have started carrying a larger notebook with me when I am out and about, and always have it nearby at home. When I am traveling light with my camera, I’ll make a note on the smaller spiral job, then tear out the page and transfer it to my main rig back at home base.

My notes look like puzzles and you almost need to be a map reader to figure them out, with arrows pointing to phases and other cryptic fragments surrounded by circles or boxes with stars or exclamation points next to them. Then there are the tiny drawings that only a kindergarten teacher could appreciate!

One problem for me is that half the time I can’t read my own writing and certainly others couldn’t read my notes at all … sort of like deciphering Egyptian hieroglyphics. But like I said, I’m a visual person, and besides I like writing with a pen! So much for my written records being saved for future generations to ponder!

I capture all kinds of thoughts at home or on the go. I never know if there is something I want to remember about a particular photograph I made or perhaps one that got away due to adverse conditions, the exact location of a photographic opportunity, thoughts about the time of year or the light, or just about anything that catches my fancy or I need to ruminate about when I am with my camera. Or maybe an idea that quickly flits through my consciousness or an outline for an entry on my website, a related darkroom issue, or a note concerning a neat looking drive in dive on the side of the road to come back to sometime. Sometimes it’s just for silly daydreams. I also use it to help me think through themes and plan projects. Right now I have about seven or eight project ideas I hope to work on this year so I’ll jot down thoughts based on my research, etc.

In other words, my notebook — in either small or large form — has become my constant companion and valuable assistant. To say it has fostered new ideas and improved my creativity would be a huge understatement!!

Now maybe you can remember every good idea that pops into your head, every place you want to visit, or everything you need to do differently or improve upon, but I seriously doubt it.

So get a notebook and fill it up with all sorts of stuff, then get another and do the same. I think you will be surprised by the new and creative outcomes that take place in your photographic life!

Towards the end of December I finally got around to seeing a wonderful exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art … Multitude, Solitude: The Photographs of Dave Heath.

I will admit it, I never had heard of Dave Heath before and that makes me sad. He made some remarkable black and white photographs, notably from the Forties through the Sixties, which this retrospective focuses on, and it closely tracks those images contained in his masterwork A Dialogue With Solitude published in 1965.

Somehow he seems to have been forgotten by many and unknown by many more (me obviously included!). Thankfully that injustice is now being remedied!

I won’t go into reviewing the show; there are plenty of reviews that can be found on the Internet, as well as discussions concerning the companion book by the same name, published to accompany the exhibit. Suffice to say I purchased the book and so should you!

What I do want to discuss are some things I took away from the exhibit that you might find of value for your own work.

First, I was struck by the size of the images. As best as I could tell, they were all around 8X10, some slightly larger, some slightly smaller. I was forced to get close and look into each photograph to discover all that it had to tell. Very similar to the size of photographs seen in the recent Strand and Weston shows. It’s the size I favor, as previously discussed in an earlier entry, and I’m becoming more and more convinced that the smaller size really works when the photographer truly has something to say.

While Heath chose to print his photographs somewhat dark, nothing is hidden. I think this too relates to the size of the final print and again forces us to look more closely.

There’s drama in Heath’s pictures of people going about their daily lives — simple, tightly framed and wonderfully composed. Mostly “quiet” images of small crowds, couples, or close ups. You’re viewing compelling moments in time captured with great compassion … so different than much of the street photography that is posted on the Web today. Perhaps I am a hopeless romantic (I have been told that a few times) but there is a beauty to be found when we slow do and take the time to truly see — and of course ruthlessly edit our work.

Most of the images were made at just several locations in New York City — Washington Square, Central Park and the Seven Arts Coffee Gallery. Each one continually mined for photographic gold! Knowledge of the environment and an obvious comfort level while being there definitely paid off with powerful and poetic images. There is something definitely to be said for this!

Many think it’s essential to continuously travel to new and distant places in order to make good photographs. Wrong! Look at Heath’s work, and that of many others who continued to concentrate on familiar places and subject matter. Adams came back so many times to the Yosemite wilderness, Edward Weston to the beaches of Point Lobos, and Milton Rogovin for decades to Buffalo’s Lower West Side to do his social documentary work, just to name a few. The results speak for themselves. This isn’t to say that we shouldn’t venture out and look for new opportunities and inspiration, but there are many great pictures for all of us to make wherever we are. Think about the opportunities and you will be rewarded.

I love cameras. If you venture onto some of the forums, you’ll find people telling you that the camera is just a box who’s main purpose is to hold the lens. And most of all it is the lens that matters. Probably true … but … for some … and I am one of them … there is something about using the camera itself as a key element of the photographic making process. The camera as a tool, the tactile pleasure … its use, a linkage to the greats that came before us, and the ones we admire today. I have succumbed to all of this, and it is not necessarily all that bad.

Several times the allure of the large camera has been overwhelming, only to fade away based on the results or other less tangible reasons … only to return again. I am a great admirer of Adams, Weston(s), Strand and other great large format masters and I have taken excellent workshops with some of the outstanding large format artists of our time … John Sexton, Michael Smith and Paula Chamlee. I’ve visited the temple and stood on hallowed ground of Ansel Adam’s darkroom (not sure I have ever fully recovered from that experience!!!!). Knowing that these and many more great photographers used these wonderful tools made me have to own them too … several times during my photographic life.

It was during one of those periods of weakness when the GAS was strong that I lusted after the great Deardorff 8×10. The history, the wood and nickel construction, the size… the opportunity to make contact prints. Yes I had to have it!

It was the Eighties. My Shutterbug magazine was delivered to my front door every month. Forget the articles, it was all about the mega classified section that seemed to make up about half of the printed pages of each issue. I scoured them. Remember when your local newspaper had a decent classified section? Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday I would look at the classified section of the Washington Post first, before I got to the front page, or even the sports section! It was a much different time … perhaps a better time, but I digress.

So I am eating breakfast on Saturday morning, but before leaving with my wife to do some important things I had promised to take care of with her that morning I look at the classifieds. There it was … “For Sale: Deardorff 8×10 View Camera” along with a phone number!!!!!

As my wife was getting ready to leave with me I made the call. He answered. Did it have front and rear swings … YES! Ok, breath deep … how much was it? Twenty-Five. My heart sank … not $2500, which was the upper end of the going rate. OK, another deep breath … do you mean $2500? No … $25! He explained it needed a little work and wanted it to go to a good home. I told him not to go anywhere; I would leave my house in 5 minutes. Needless to say my wife wasn’t all that happy as I ran out the door, scuttling our plans to buy another camera that was a 45-minute drive away. I didn’t deserve her then and probably still don’t.

I got there as fast as I could, rang the doorbell and out came an older gentleman. He showed me the camera and yes it was in need of repair, but certainly worth more than $25. I offered him much more, but I guess when I told him I worked for the government and he asked my age, that he realized the obvious … I must be poor! So he insisted I buy it for the stated price, and I promised I would return it to its former glory.

Next step was to get this beauty restored. After all it was manufactured in 1954, the year I was born. Surely a sign! After some research I found someone that specialized in bringing old Deardorffs back to life. So I sent it off and waited for its agreed upon return. In the meantime I signed up to take a workshop in Carmel with John Sexton and Henry Gilpin. These are truly two of the greats of the West Coast School – wonderful photographers and teachers (Henry sadly passed away in 2011)!

The Deardorff was supposed to be back to me several weeks prior to the workshop, but as luck would have it there was some kind of problem and it wasn’t going to be ready until I arrived in California … $#@!%^&!

I wasn’t going to cancel out of the workshop, nor was I going to take a 35mm along with me as a substitute for either a large or medium format camera (Henry made exquisite photographs with a Hasselblad that were often mistaken for large format images). So it was agreed that it would be shipped to my hotel in Carmel.

The second day of the workshop it arrived. I quickly unpacked it, but I had only enough time to barely savor the smell of the of the newly varnished wood or examine the perfect creases of the brand new custom made bellows … I was robbed of one of the most fun aspects of this passion — a proper and slow unboxing of a new arrival!

The Deardorff has a beautiful and sturdy large diameter metal plate on the bottom of the camera in which the screw of your tripod head or quick release attaches. I had my sturdy Gitzo tripod, lenses and loaded film holders with me. I picked up the camera at the hotel desk and left for the remainder of the day’s activity at the workshop. Everyone met at the lovely beach at Point Lobos, one of the world’s great seascapes. I had been there before with a Leica, but now I was going to conquer it with my Deardorff!

I was nervous, yet extremely excited as I began to mount the beast atop my tripod on the very beach that Edward Weston once stood. The anticipation was almost too much … until … the screw on my tripod head would not fasten to the treaded hole in the metal bottom plate of the camera … $!#@%^&*()_}+|}!#$@%^&!!

It was not to be; the threads were somehow stripped, and I was screwed (pun intended!). Needless to say I didn’t make any pictures. I did however learn a powerful lesson. Never venture out into the world with the hope of making something meaningful or at least having a meaningful experience without testing your equipment and materials (proper film speed and development time), and carrying extra batteries if you use them. In other words be prepared so you will have a fighting chance to succeed.

Suffering a major embarrassment was the least of my problems. What really hurt was the opportunity that was squandered on several levels.

I learned my lesson. So take it from me; always be prepared!