The Early Days: Kodak Brownie Hawkeye and a Homemade Oatmeal Box Enlarger

 The biggest influence on the history of my photographic journey has been a limited budget. Seems I've always had to pinch and scrimp, scrounge and do without to make do with what I had. Somehow or another I managed to capture a few pictures along the way and learned a great deal about how to stretch resources well beyond what the amount should accommodate.  I also learned a great deal about photography as well.

Homemade Oatmeal Box Enlarger Diagram

I've written several times about the first camera I ever used which was a very old Kodak Nbr1 my grandparents kept in a bottom drawer. That old thing as beat up as it was, actually made surprisingly sharp and well exposed images. Later on in life my parents upgraded to a more modern version known as the Kodak Brownie Hawkeye. They had the deluxe model with an attachable flash unit. It had some nice features with look down see through viewfinder, and a long exposure switch and a classic Art-Deco styling. It was a nice little camera for the day. When I was about 13 maybe 14 years old my good friend Rocky somehow or another developed an interest in photography and started developing his own film and prints. His mom even purchased for him a starter darkroom set that included a basic enlarger plus all the necessary processing trays, a film canister along with the chemicals and photo paper. To both of us we felt like we were really uptown and he showed me how it all worked. We had a great time as I used that old Hawkeye camera to photograph our adventures.

It wasn't too long before I wanted my own darkroom...but...as I mentioned before, the luxury of owning my own enlarger just was not in my parents budget and certainly not in mine. Somehow or another they did manage to purchase for me the basic setup including trays, chemicals - developer, stop, fixer, paper, and a film developing canister. All I could manage to do were contact prints, but it was still fun. We had a unused closet just barely big enough for me to sit inside with a small shelf just wide enough to hold the trays and few other things. I used a single red Christmas tree light for the safety light.

It did not take long before I really wanted an enlarger, but they were just too expensive. A basic one back then cost about $49.00...pretty cheap by today's standards, but costly none-the-less for a budget minded family. That is when I had my first real MacGyver moment...photographically speaking; I could make my own enlarger. Why not? There really wasn't much to them. A light source, something to spread the light out evenly, something to hold the negative, and means to focus the image. Pretty simple really.

I raided my mom's kitchen for three oatmeal boxes. She only had two, so I persuaded her to buy another one, a smaller box really and she did, storing the contents in a Tupperware container and letting me have the boxes.

The two full size boxes would become the main body with the smaller box perfectly fitting inside the larger one acting as the lens holder and a slider style focus control. I made a negative holder cut out of two pieces of a cereal box that would slide between the two main body containers.

Now all I needed was a source of light, a condenser, and a lens. The light source was simple. I just used a light socket from a broken lamp and I think a 40 watt light bulb. The condenser was another problem. Even back then I understood how hot the boxes would become and that I needed the light to be diffused enough to create an evenly spread light to avoid a hot bright spot, and I also needed something to insulate the negative from the tremendous heat developed by the light bulb. I remembered out in the garage was a oversized light bulb that no longer worked. 

The bulb part of the light was much larger than a regular bulb, almost exactly the same diameter as the oatmeal box. It fit perfectly inside once I cut a hole in the top to allow the long piece to extend out. I carefully chipped out the business end of the bulb removing the contacts and the internal filaments leaving just the frosted bulb and neck with its metal twist on fitting. I cover the external parts with black paper to avoid contaminating light. I filled the large bulb with water which acted like a huge lense and spread the light out in a near perfect pattern. It also insulated the negative from the hot 40 watt bulb.

The lens was next. It just so happened I had an old BB gun rifle scope that I no longer used. The objective lens, or front lens, was a pretty good coated multi element lens which I could easily remove by unscrewing the retainer ring. It was slightly larger than a nickel...I'd guess maybe f/5.6. That lens was simply wedged into a small hole cut in the center of the bottom of the smaller oatmeal box.

I positioned the enlarger horizontally using some small pieces of wood to hold it in place...it was just easier to work with that way...and created a small easel to hold the contact paper on the adjacent wall. The first test worked beautifully...I inserted a negative. Switched on the light...and by sliding the lens holder back and forth focused the negative on the easel backing. It was beautiful!...and it cost me virtually nothing. I could easily make up to 5x7 enlargements and even tried 8x10's but my little closet darkroom just was not large enough to allow for that much required spacing.

Over the years my photographic skills and equipment have improved considerably, but those early days established a foundation from which I could build. Oddly enough, budget is still an issue and even though I would like to upgrade my equipment, I've learned to make do with what I have...and it all started back in that little closet darkroom and a homemade oatmeal box enlarger.

The 'What If...' of Nature Photography

 The stiff spring day breeze brought with it a chilly sting that found multiple ways of penetrating the thin hoodie I was wearing. It was almost warm, but not quite there...yet, but the afternoon light offered some wonderful possibilities to capture a photograph that might become something special. Thick cumulus clouds drifting on the winds, sailed along at a good clip contrasting nicely with the brilliance of the blue Kentucky sky. I thought, 'Yeah...this looks good...let's see what I can do with it.'

A couple days before I had discovered this rustic country scene where a weathered wooden fence bisected an old two track road. A few hundred yards away, that old farm road curved into a wooded patch that crowned a shallow knoll and layers of wildflowers skipped and danced in the wind across the open field and nestled against the gray fence. The light was not so great on that first day...not terrible, but I was there at the wrong time and the clouds were high and wispy creating more of a pale haze than any significant contrast. I thought to myself..."What if...I could be here later in the day and ...what if...these wispy clouds were replaced by boiling thicker cumulus clouds...just maybe this one marginal looking location might turn out to be a real opportunity." The photo I captured that first day wasn't a terrible photo. It possesses certain qualities all its own, but I knew this location had more to offer. So I returned.

I spent a good hour or so snapping images at a furious pace...too furious really. I should have slowed down and been more patient waiting for the right combination of light and shadow to develop. Nothing seemed to be working like I hoped, then I thought.."What if...I back up to the road and step more to my left to include more of the fence and the layer of wildflowers that grew in front of it...what if....Let's see what happens..."  The rest is history for that single shot, (the image at the top) captured as a beam of light floated across the distant tree lined knoll...became possibly one of my favorite...if not best...images of all time.

As part of the Ansel Adams Project, I've been seeking out local possibilities to capture landscapes in the Ansel Adams style. Not to duplicate what he created...I could never accomplish that, but to jump start my "Photo Seeing" ability, to look beyond the ordinary and visualize a scene as it would appear in black and white. In doing so, I've rediscovered what thinking through a photograph really means, and what asking myself the thought provoking question...What if?...can accomplish.

The what if question redirects your eye and your mind toward looking at a natural scene from a different perspective. Asking yourself "What if..." encourages you to look at a photographic problem through the lens of a new solution...or a least a different solution. Nature photography often demands we do so. Simply snapping images at a furious rate in hopes of capturing a single image that works can be a process in futility. Sometimes it works. Most of the time, we end up with a whole lot of average pictures that absorbs a lot of storage space.

I remember another time a few years ago when the What if question resulted in a very nice photograph. I was overlooking a field from the high corner of that field waiting for the sun to set. As it drifted toward its final moment I snapped off a few photos I thought were okay, but they were simply...okay. I thought "...what if I move over a few dozen yards..." I did and not much changed in the way of quality of the photos. I began to work my way back toward my Jeep thinking the shoot was pretty much over. On the way I passed by a single tree. The What if thought again flashed into my mind..."What if...I step a few yards past that tree and line it up with the setting sun..." As I did so, the sky exploded in depth and color and I positioned the tree to appear as though it were a part of the sunset sky. Later in post processing I again ask the What if question..."What if I make this image a mirror of itself. The results astounded me. It is perhaps one of my top two or three photos of all time and I called it..."Burning Tree."

Asking "What if..." when approaching a photo shoot, can often jump start and rekindle creative juices. It places your thought processes into a state of mind where you begin to see more than what is there. As Ansel Adams once said, you don't take a photograph...you make a photograph. That concept is one many beginner or novice photographers fail to understand. It is the essence of creative photography and asking the What if question will focus your thoughts more keenly within the realm of capturing what you feel rather than what you see.

Chasing That One Great Photograph

 I began a quest some years back to capture a single great photograph that stands apart from anything I may have taken across previous attempts. Needless to say, I'm still chasing that quest, but along the way I've learned a great deal about photography in general, and about myself more specifically. 

A few years ago I started one of the most interesting and revealing projects I've ever attempted. I called it: The Ansel Adams Project. For the better part of a full summer I chased around my home range looking for photographic opportunities that would convert well into Black and White images. It presented a challenge far greater than I anticipated, yet that challenge elevated my personal understanding about the art of photography. I began to see landscapes from a completely different perspective. Not just for their scenic value, but for values that can only be utilized emotionally. Although I officially ended the project at the end of that one summer, it never truly ended as I gained a new appreciation for the Black and White photograph. As a result, I have continued within the same mindset ever since. 

This spring I felt like I had fallen into a state of mundane mediocracy with my photography and needed something to jumpstart that drive and desire again. As a result I resurrected The Ansel Adams Project focusing more on seeking out black and white landscapes as I venture across my Kentucky home range and beyond. Oddly enough, I rediscovered the excitement of once again seeking out a creative outlet and have shifted a great deal of my photography toward Black and White.

In recent days I began to explore an obscure backroad in more detail. It is the kind of road most people would simply drive down and never take a second look at the rather ordinary scenery. Yet, the Ansel Adams Project taught me to look past the mundane and visualize the greater potential of a location no matter how ordinary. A few days ago, as I drove along that narrow road, a single location caught my attention and instinctively something inside screamed at me to stop and turn around. I spent a few minutes exploring a wide spot where a weathered old fence straddled either side of a two track road leading toward and into a wooded patch spread across a shallow hill a couple hundred yards away. The light was harsh, the sky sort of ordinary, the scene looked rather plain, but I fired off a few photographs anyway using a wide angle lens and a polarizer filter to darken the sky. First results, I discovered later, were promising, but I felt strongly this location could offer more...I just needed to be there on the right day...one filled with the right light... and covered by a more dramatic sky.

Two days later the day started off cloudless and bright. By early afternoon, puffy white clouds began to form and stack up against the deep blue of the sky. The time was about 2:30ish and I knew the light would begin to drift into a lower angle along that old road. Maybe, just maybe, I might get lucky, so I grabbed my camera gear and off I went. It's only about a 20 minute or so drive over there and when I arrived, the clouds had indeed stacked even tighter together throwing a series of dark shadow across where that weather old fence and shallow hill stood.

The sky behind the hill was bright blue and filled with fluffy clouds, but that created a problem; I had no graduated filters so either I expose for the sky and end up with too dark a landscape, or I expose for the landscape and blow out the sky. As it was somewhat windy, the clouds were on the move, so I waited...ten minutes later what I hoped would happen did indeed occur. 

The clouds moved over and waves of light began to infiltrate across the land behind the fence. Over the next hour, I took almost 300 images hoping I could capture a single photograph in the best light. I could see it in my mind as to how it might appear, I just needed nature to cooperate. As the light scampered across the landscape I would fire off in rapid succession 3 and 4 or 5 images at a time trying to time how and where the lights and shadows intersected with that treeline across the top of the hill. I moved left, then right, then forward, then back attempting to line up the best composition with the fence row and the background along with the shadows and light areas but nothing seemed to work...until I made a fateful move; I stepped to my left and back toward the edge of the road. Until then my focus had been on lining up the background with the fence row. My mistake had been that I was overlooking the foreground where a patch of wild flowers bloomed directly in front of a section of the fence.

At that moment, a cloud drifted over the area darkening the entire hillside. After a few long seconds, a gap opened in the clouds and a beam of light filled the middle and background and I fired off another series of 4 or 5 back to back photos. A quick look at the viewer and I felt like maybe, just maybe I had finally found it. All the shots were made handheld using an aperture of f/22 to obtain the greatest depth of field. That setting required a higher ISO of 400 and relatively slow shutter speed of around 100/sec, but at 18mm focal length, that was okay.

When I process a black and white photo, I will first process the color version just to see if everything falls into place. Afterwards, I use that finished color image almost like a negative when I run it through the conversion process. Much like Ansel Adams performed in the darkroom, I have developed my own dodge and burn process technique when I create a black and white image. When I finished with this one single photo out of the almost 300, I knew I had made a good one...possibly even one of the best photographs I've ever taken.

Does it qualify for that one great photo I've been chasing? Maybe, only time will tell. One thing for certain, at least in my eye, it is certainly in the running.