Afghanistan Series // Running on Fumes

You hit the ground with such conviction and energy. The better of us sustain this for several months. The best of us tell the cynics that ‘to power forward despite setbacks’ is the absurd* gesture that just might penetrate the Afghan psyche. 

I try to be somewhere between the better and the best of us, but the twilight days of this deployment have really tried my cultural sensibilities and motivation.

Film exposed in Afghanistan takes about a month to reach the states. Then there are a few weeks to process and develop, and about a month for me to find the time to write up a post. When it’s all said and done, I look at the pictures taken way-back-when and I realize how much my attitude about Afghanistan has changed. Demeanors have changed, the ‘hey, would you like to be in a picture?’ doesn’t quite work like it used to. But these few images still capture the light-hearted playfulness of those early days. 

I introduced the time-wasting obsessions that soldiers dream up on deployments in an earlier volume. SPC Holz’s compound bow obsession happens to be one of my favorites. With nothing to shoot, he still gets incredible joy just holding and looking at his bow. This set also features some of our interpreters—each a wealth of information and fascinating stories.

You’re seeing Ektar 100 and Portra 400 here. So far, Ektar is my favorite daylight color negative film, but it seems my camera may be having shutter issues that affected my Portra rolls. The next batch will be exclusively Portra, so I’ll hold off my judgments until then

*‘Absurd’ is a sincere term of endearment to me.  

Fuji Superia 400 // Contax

I turned in my first two rolls of film last week. And alas they have been developed. [Insert something really intelligent Anthony would write comparing film to Seattle]. Definitely in love with Superia 400. 

*All photos taken with Contax 645 

Afghanistan Series Vol. 4

The western world abandoned texture in the late 50s. For better or for worse, the modern design concept shares the aesthetic presumptions of a hospital. Machine-smoothed surfaces and mathematically perfect curves suggest order, cleanliness, simplicity, and secular ablution. One would not describe Afghanistan with these words.

Afghanistan remains pre-industrial in terms of both architectural capability and design concepts. Drop a modern building in Afghanistan. The Afghans can only comprehend it as a symbol of a symbol (in this case, the West). Their capabilities cannot yet sustain a culture that may, if it so chooses, nurture the ideas that give meaning and context to modern architecture. 

High ASA black and white film features massive grain and high-contrast for capturing texture. We hunted for texture and contrast (specifically in architecture) for this shoot. In retrospect, I probably should have grabbed some Afghans, but explaining the importance of being exactly still during long-exposure and low-light photography is sometimes more trouble than it’s worth. The grain effects here are all real-- no post-processing whatsoever. Special thanks to SPC Dailey for helping with this shoot. I gather he’s interested in taking up medium format film photography himself. Good for you; it’s a blast.

*Film: Delta Ilford 3200 pushed to 6400

The Tourist

 Anthony will be guest blogging for me for a few days. Enjoy the eccentric meanderings of Lisa V Lupo Photography’s most valued employee.

I may have just finished my most interesting roll of film to date. In the span of 15 frames, I captured a convoy (from the inside), a death celebration (almost like a post-funeral charity-event), and some assorted Afghan street scenes. [Expect to wait another month for the film to get sent, developed, and scanned.] For those that are queasy, be prepared for a few pictures of locals tearing strips of meat from a severed bull’s head. One elder waived an uncooked cow ankle at me, hoof included. Not really sure if that’s an invitation or warning.

At any rate, thank goodness for the latitude of Portra 400. I should get away with a few hasty draws.

Yes, I will sing the praises of film until my dying days, but only a fool brings a 37-year-old MF film camera on mission out-and-about in Afghanistan. There are easier ways to get the results you want. Which leads me to a simple and obvious revelation: film is for controlled situations, digital is for everything else.

Allow me to describe what I look for in a picture taken in Afghanistan. [I wish I had more pictures to show you, but Lisa hasn’t received my second batch of film yet. Film will teach you patience.]

1. Old or ‘Afghanned’ infrastructure. To ‘Afghan’ something is to find a creative and undoubtedly dangerous solution to an engineering problem. This is a term of endearment. If I had a super-telephoto lens, I’d capture a few shots of children climbing on burned out Toyota shells in the junkyard behind our compound. Tetanus anyone? I never pass up an opportunity snap a shot of decaying infrastructure— a bit of a cliché I admit. But Afghanistan serves these up on a desiccated platter.
   
   
   
    What you can't see in this picture: the broken glass littered all over the floor.
   
   
2. Soldier Portraits. I take the same approach to soldier portraits as portraits of American civilians. I want the soldier to look at his picture years from now and fail to force back a smirk. Most of the pictures I take are facetious or tie into an inside joke that has come to characterize the soldier’s personality. Then there are classic portraits (those that are simply aesthetically appealing), and those that incorporate some narrative or editorial aspect. Certain soldiers are better suited for these latter portraits than others. I should be doing a wounded-warrior-type editorial shoot in the next few days. These photos are the most difficult. I’ve found you have to walk a fine line between melodrama and interesting. I’ve found that reality can be frustratingly melodramatic at times.
   
   

   
   
   
3. Afghans, especially Elders. Tight, close portraits of older Afghans are especially telling. The turbulence of the last 50 years of Afghanistan is, to borrow a phrase, ‘etched in the scars and deep wrinkles of their faces.’ They are a fascinating portrait subject. Most Afghans love having their pictures taken, so these shots are common and fairly easy. Explaining to them that I’m using a film camera that doesn’t display the picture on an LCD screen, however, is much more difficult.
   
   
   
    Notice the little flower in his hand. These portraits are teeming with interesting subtleties. Hopefully Lisa gets my others soon.
   
   
4. War Icons. I love taking pictures of items that have come to symbolize this era of warfare: HESCO barriers, concertina wire, bullet-holes, ‘ECM-off’ signs, military working dogs, etc. Many of these items will soon fade into obscurity, like the C-rations or Lucky Strikes of old.
   
   
   
    The whole 'concrete barrier over gravel' design concept probably won't catch on stateside, fortunately.
   
   
5. Anything else of interest. I am an amateur photographer. My approach is not results-driven (here at least). I experiment for the sake of it. So I like to try different lighting situations, films, etc.

 

 I love film color.

The NVG bag tied to my kit contains an outmoded and ungainly photographic relic. While I might look like a tourist, I’m without a doubt more intellectually engaged with my surroundings than those around me. The world is fundamentally different through a waist-level finder, which is why photography in Afghanistan is as much a performance art as anything else.

Epilogue

It takes roughly a month to develop a roll of film shot in Afghanistan, which is why all the pictures above (with the exception of one, guess which?) have been recycled from previous shoots. Allow me to explain: no one (reputable) develops film in Afghanistan. This means that my film has to travel from Afghanistan to the US by mail. This can take up to three-weeks. (Side note: Mail sent to Afghanistan arrives in roughly one week, or three times as fast by comparison.) When Lisa receives my film, she has to send it to a professional photo lab, in our case, Richard's Photo Labs in SoCal (another 2-3 days). There's roughly a 5-business day turnaround from RPL before the scans are available for download. All told, this process takes about a month. On the horizon, however, should be a series of Portra 160 and 400 portraits and some experimental shots taken with Ilford 3200 black & white pushed to 6400. I'm very excited for the Ilford to come out: should be pretty grainy and edgy.

The Philosophy of Photography

Anthony will be guest blogging for me for a few days. Enjoy the eccentric meanderings of Lisa V Lupo Photography’s most valued employee.

I don’t have a highfalutin conception of le artiste or art in general. If briefly studying aesthetics in graduate school taught me anything, it’s that art is best appreciated pre-theoretically, merely as an item that evokes an emotion or stirs the imagination. Post-modern art challenges this idea for the sake of it. Art about art, like the philosophy of philosophy (metaphilosophy), turns the subject on itself, and evaluates the system with the tools internal to that system of thought or expression. Of my few semi-original (ha!) philosophical thoughts, I’ve argued most passionately for the importance of stepping outside of a system of thought when evaluating it (specifically with respect to metaphilosopy). It seems like begging the question to me, but I more or less fell on my sword trying to prove it. After all, if I’m right, then it isn’t the sort of thing that can be proven in a way one would deem properly philosophical. 

If you find this sort of talk nauseating, like I do, then you would probably agree that explaining a philosophy of photography would kill the joy of photography itself. So from here on out, I will use ‘philosophy’ in the spirit of modern ‘pop philosophy’, for which there is a philosophy of everything (from The Simpsons to Radiohead). Without further ado, I present the philosophy of photography—an ultimately misleading title.  

If anything, this is more a way of approaching technologically-enabled art. Photography (film or digital), like many of the digital graphic arts, necessarily involves sophisticated technical apparatuses: camera bodies, lenses, printing equipment, flashes, etc. For this reason, photographers often feel limited by the equipment they possess. This can lead to Gear Acquisition Syndrome (GAS, as psychologists call it), according to which you need to buy and carry as much gear as possible in order to be prepared for every situation. This was the way I thought about photography for several years.

I bought my Mamiya on a whim. I wanted a healthy distraction— not another money suck. Given the constraints of my situation (shooting film in Afghanistan), I had to accept the fact that I would not have the equipment necessary for many shots (e.g. wide-angle, low-light flash photography, tripod long exposures, etc.). I inadvertently began to conceive of photography within the framework of what was possible given my equipment. This was truly a blessing in disguise.

Limitations force you to consider the unique strengths of the equipment you actually have. Limitations teach you to hunt for photographic situations that suit the equipment you have, rather than hunt through your bag to find the equipment that suits your situation. Limitations force you to consider a distinct set of compositional possibilities; in my case: the world through an 80mm f 2.8 lens on a 1975 M645 body w/ waist-level finder. Unlike before, I gladly pass-up photographical situations that I know would be awesome but require a kit I don’t have. I don’t even sweat it. Instead, I hunt for spots that work for me. They are out there, millions of them, if you train yourself to know where to look. 

There are a host of corollaries. Think exposure, for instance. I used to think that my photos were bad because I couldn’t nail the exposure, as if there was some magic setting I couldn’t find. Wrong. My photos were bad because the light was bad. Good images require good light (I do all my shooting now early in the morning, at sunset, or in even shade). The basic idea: I am limited by light. Light is a (if not the) photographic medium. Learning to work within limitations is the key.

Here’s where it gets quasi-philosophical. As I see it, limitations are a primary source of artistic inspiration, especially in photography. It is not being able to do something that makes one want to do it even more—the code we iconoclasts live by. It’s working within limitations that enables us to cognize a manageable space of possibilities from which to select and refine ideas. Total artistic freedom is a burden to everyone except the most genius of geniuses: the Individual that can navigate a space of infinite possibilities and select an optimum alternative. However, I (and most likely you also) cannot. 

It is for art as it is for society. Total freedom makes monsters of men. Society imposes some restrictions on what we may do, and, with the exception of the Individual, we are better for it. (How’s that for a fast-and-loose analogy?)

Here’s this idea spun into a common-sense theory. Seek to limit yourself to what you can handle at your level as a photographer. For amateurs: even if you have a wonderful second lens, do not put it in your bag. Keep it simple, for limitations will set you free. As you improve as a photographer, your ability to manage a large set of compositional possibilities will improve. More of the universe will fit in your head without spilling out your ears. The world’s best photographer (whoever you are, out there) carries more than just an 80mm f 2.8. The key is to limit oneself appropriately. Too much limitation will clip your proverbial wings, too much freedom will stymie your creative process.

As a general rule, people tend to overestimate what they can manage. I’m sure this belief stems from both personal experience and some deep-seeded philosophical premise about human nature. I’ll spare you that one.

Epilogue

Two quick points to follow. (1) Limiting oneself does not entail avoiding high-quality glass or bodies on principle. Limitation is about choice. A pro-quality 80mm f 2.8 does not open any more photographical possibilities than does an el-cheapo 80mm f 2.8. (Many pro-quality lenses feature larger apertures, which do offer additional compositional options— but this range of choice should be pretty manageable.) But a pro-quality lens will improve image sharpness and color, which is always a good thing. Whether it’s worth the cost is up to you, but even this ‘philosophy of photography’ won’t necessarily save you from GAS. (2) Don't you see how someone espousing this philosophy would be drawn to film photography? By the same token, if film is by default more limiting than digital, does this mean that digital photography is ultimately a greater medium of photography? I think so. So what? Film is fun and certainly dynamic enough to provide a world-class photographer more than enough compositional options (excluding, perhaps, low-light situations). Phooey.

Why Film?

Anthony will be guest blogging for me for a few days. Enjoy the eccentric meanderings of Lisa V Lupo Photography’s most valued employee.

Digital is the future; film is the past. The future is nauseating.

Film is the love affair of those that conceive of photography in a certain way. You know who you are. You value the authenticity of a negative. You like the metal bodies and bulletproof build quality of older cameras. You want it to matter when you press the shutter. You love the soft color and creamy highlights of film. To be honest, the film love affair is not for everyone.  You are either drawn to film for the gestalt of it; or you aren’t. It’s a matter of preference. But there are practical reasons why you may want to shoot film. I’ve read others’ arguments, and frankly, I think there is some misinformation out there. So let me set the record straight, as I see it, at least.

Dynamic range is a mathematical concept that many take very seriously. Strictly speaking, dynamic range is the difference between the darkest areas and lightest areas for which a given medium can record detail. If a digital camera has 3 stops of dynamic range, this means that the sensor can record only three stops of difference between the lightest and darkest areas of the image that aren’t clipped (pure black or pure white). You’ve seen clipped highlights before—that nasty, harsh, bright white area of an image (usually the sky). More dynamic range means that you can record more information in an image.

Some people will tell you that film has more dynamic range than digital. It depends on the film and digital sensor, of course. While there is a way to measure dynamic range, RAW file manipulation and the film scanning process have muddied the comparison. The simple rule of thumb is: film handles highlights better than digital sensors, and digital sensors handle shadows better than film. In my limited experience, this is mostly true.

If you shoot digital well, then you know to avoid overexposure at all costs (except for artistic effects, or clever backlighting).* Provided you shoot digital with this in mind (and are careful to check your images for minor highlight clipping), then there is no reason to get all hot-and-bothered by dynamic range arguments. RAW editing opens the door for digital shooters to save all kinds of detail (especially for underexposures). The only important difference between film and digital, with respect to dynamic range, is that film requires less digital manipulation to get acceptable results.

Medium format film and high-end digital cameras capture enough detail for just about any purpose. Medium format film cameras capture more information, strictly speaking, than 35mm-sized digital sensors. But unless you like pixel-peeping, there’s no real reason to get excited about it. Lisa’s D800 is glorious overkill. Medium format film is similarly glorious overkill. Don’t worry about resolution. (I can’t say the same for 35mm film, which I think is demonstrably inferior to high-end digital cameras.)

Others swear by the look of film. Film is softer and creamier, in general, than digital. Digital is sharper and snappier. The advantage to digital is that you can edit it anyway you like. The advantage to film is that you shouldn’t (at least not significantly). With film, you get a color palette that’s been refined over several generations. With digital, you are at the mercy of your own Photoshop skills. I don’t think digital ever looks good straight-out-of-camera. At this point, you need to decide just how much time you want to spend post-processing: to each his or her own.

Medium format bokeh is different than digital bokeh. Use Flickr to see which you prefer. Medium format film seems to ‘swirl’ the out-of-focus areas. I love it.

I hope to have covered most of the technical differences by this point. You will decide to shoot film for at least one of three reasons: (1) deep-seeded psychological attraction to film, (2) streamlined workflow, or (3) the film-shooter’s state of mind. Let me expand on (3).

Film shooters will always privilege composition and exposure during a shoot. They have to. Film is simply too expensive to waste. In this way, film is always about the fundamentals. If I’m not thinking about the fundamentals, I can’t take decent pictures. I can’t think about the fundamentals with a modern DSLR. Even though I know what every setting does on Lisa’s D800, I can’t help but feel spoiled for choice.

The modern DSLR is a grey box. It is designed to work like a film camera—to generate output consistent with a film camera at the same settings—but the behind-the-scenes technology is very different. When I view an image I’ve taken on the LCD, even if I am shooting RAW, I see an image presented under a certain color palette as determined by a white-balance algorithm that I do not understand.** The ISO is not the actual ISO of the sensor (see DxO Mark), but the ISO of the sensor that the camera manufacturer tweaks for the purposes of winning the technology war. It is not me, a subject, and an exposure. It is me, an amazing piece of technology, an exposure, and a subject. With digital, I spend more time absorbed in the technology than ‘in the moment’, so to speak.

On the other hand, I know the look of Ektar 100; I conceive of my compositions with full knowledge of how the image will look on film. I do not think of the many ways I can make the image look after hours of tweaking. I am in a state of mind that builds color into the photographic process before I take the picture.

You might wonder why a disciplined digital shooter can’t do the same thing. They can. Freedom is what you make of it. I shoot film because too much freedom is a bad thing for my creative process. I need restrictions on my creative process to feel truly creative at all.

Ladies and gentlemen, film is for the photographer than enjoys the film experience, or the photographer that can’t handle digital. I confess that I am both.

* I don’t think anyone still uses ETTR methodology. It made sense when digital sensors were more prone to noise. Nowadays, you simply flirt with highlight clipping—or disaster—more than necessary.

** Yes, you could carry a grey card with you.

Epilogue

There is one final reason to shoot medium format film: big, bright, viewfinder options. Waist-level finders are simply the greatest compositional tool available to photographers, specifically, medium format film photographers. Most photographers, myself included, suffer from the eye-level composition disease. This means that we will continually neglect to view a subject from any vantage other than standing eye-level. As beings that prefer the path of least resistance, we can’t help it. Big, bright, waist-level finders work like a charm. A waist-level finder is like a little projection screen (see the picture below) that is viewed from above. I find that equipping my waist-level finder opens a world of photographic possibilities that I would have otherwise failed to notice. The world looks different from the waist, and I can adjust the camera’s height without craning my back or crawling on the ground.

Even if you don’t use a waist-level finder, medium format prism finders are big and bright. I find that this makes composition much easier, especially on the eyes. I have 20-15 vision, so it isn’t an issue of eyesight. You simply have more area with which to evaluate a given perspective.

Sure, you can use an LCD on a digital camera. Good luck seeing anything in daylight! Waist-level finders are shaded (and most have built-in retractable loupes for checking focus). Problem solved.

Film Prints

Just got the prints and negatives from RPL yesterday. I'm so impressed...and thankful we ordered prints because Lord knows we'd never get around to printing them ourselves. We haven't even printed out any of our wedding photos! No album. No nothing. Just digital files. (It's on my list of things to do...it's only a matter of time). It's a totally different feeling when you hold prints in your hands and not just look at them through a computer. Goodness, I'm growing fonder of film every passing day.

Afghanistan Series // Vol. III

Here today is Anthony. He's going to be really modest with his first set of pictures because he knows he can do better...but I think these shots are fantastic! He'll tell you, "these are not as good because it was before I had my light meter" or "it was before I had my waist level finder." But I can't get enough of these pictures and I can't wait until he sends his next batch of film. You can catch up on Anthony's other posts by clicking here for vol. 1 and here for vol. 2. These photos were processed and scanned at Richard Photo Lab in Hollywood, CA. Without further ado, here is Anthony's take:

So here we have it: the best shots (I can put on the internet) from my first two rolls of Ektar 100. The color isn't quite what I expected from Ektar, but it is pleasant nonetheless. 

Afghanistan begs to have its picture taken-- literally and figuratively. Maybe it's a photography cliche, but dilapidated buildings and broken glass make for an excellent portrait background. I only have a few photos here (more are in the mail), but if a picture is to tell a story, or give expression to 'the art of one's life' (as Lisa's website suggests), then disrepair and urban decay are very suggestive backdrops to use. Think of the service members you know. Many come from rough backgrounds, and most conceive of the military as a stable job predicated on a very violent and chaotic premise. Others came for a sense of adventure-- to operate and survive on the kinetic fringe of the third world. Cliches? Stereotypes? Maybe, but that's the way many see it. Military service pressures men to place their anxieties in one of a few boxes. The cliche is a piece of a very real and interesting slice of the human condition.

These are the kinds of things we can think about when we take portraits in a setting that may not be, conventionally speaking, 'beautiful.' This is why Afghanistan is an interesting place to take pictures from an artistic-- rather than just an editorial-- point of view.