My friends used to laugh at me (with me) for the abysmal taste I had (have) when choosing to watch movies. One afternoon, I would watch a Spaghetti Western movie and an Ingmar Bergman movie at night; the next day, a Kurosawa movie and later a Dirty Harry one. Even worse (and this was the laughable part for my friends), I would discuss the films simultaneously the next day without shame.
It is said, and in my rescue, Kurosawa inspired certain Hollywood Westerns, such as The Magnificent Seven.
I don't watch many movies nowadays, but I signed up for an app to watch football (soccer) and rugby; that's the only thing I was interested in. But the app has a trillion other channels I wouldn't care about.
While browsing for a match one afternoon, I accidentally found the movie Kickboxer 2. For the old times, I decided to re-watch it. Yes, really...
The story is about a gym owner and kickboxer who coaches future champions. Of course, a bad guy wants to take over his gym and his best fighter. But before the drama starts, in the afternoon program he runs for kids, he tells them something that caught my attention:
"Control!
Hey, control is everything.
Whether you're a fighter,
a carpenter, or a lawyer,
a banker, whatever you do,
the obstacles you face in life
are gonna be the same.
Daily life is full
of obstacles and temptations
that's gonna try and break
the smooth surface of the mind.
Control is how you overcome
these temptations.
You control your emotions,
you control your life."
In Latin, this is called Compos sui. Teachers repeated this definition to us in high school (along with Carpe diem) non-stop. And for a good reason.
Compos sui means self-control.
Growing up, I realized the importance of having self-control when acting, not just letting emotions run first.
The Kickboxer instructor in the movie tells his students that life is full of difficulties, and a big part of our daily living consists of resolving those obstacles without letting our feelings resolve them.
In the adversity, stress, and desperation, counting until ten and then assessing the situation, whatever it is, will bring a better approach and outcome than just storming and then regretting your decision later, at work, with people, even with your finances.
I, of course, have carried out emotional actions, like purchasing the Kowa Six MM (read below in my note "The need for Upgrades"), but that was a lesson I learned. And fortunately, it was a very cheap lesson in that case.
Kickboxer 2 was a fun movie with an important lesson or reminder: Compos sui.
It is a challenging exercise, but its practice can bring life-changing benefits.
When I was in my teen years and was learning the principles of photography as a junior assistant camera, I understood some concepts of film latitude.
In one of my first gigs, one scene we were shooting at night, somehow, I forgot something basic: change the aperture from the previous scene that had taken place in daylight. Once I realized my mistake, I armored myself with courage and informed the cinematographer that the exposure had been wrong; however, to my knowledge, I told him that the footage "was not completely wasted because the set exposure still falls within the film's latitude." Luckily for me, despite the embarrassment and facing a possible dismissal, the cinematographer was the coolest guy, and knowing I was learning, he did not make a big fuss or drama, and we reshot the screen.
Once done (with the correct exposure, this time), the cinematographer told me the take had to be reshot because "you always want to have the best possible negative; underexposing or overexposing the negative, even within the film's latitude, is forcing the film's limits, and even worse, you have to fix it later in post-production..."
In photography, I guess nowadays, you can fix anything in post-production, even adding different pre-selected skies to an utterly cloudy day to make your images look "epic."
I would rather spend my energy during the shooting process without thinking I could later fix it in post-production for three reasons:
First, I enjoy the artisan process of photographing; whatever time it takes, skip breakfast or dinner to hike to a desired location at the appropriate time, carry your gear, and scout the framing. Set the tripod and choose the composition. Select the proper lens and choose the correct filter. Measure, calculate, and estimate (exposure, depth of field, reciprocity, latitude, focus) and feel satisfied with the adventure.
The second reason is to produce a perfect negative (or file in your digital camera) to avoid any cumbersome post-production fix-up. Or any fix-up at all. A simple way to accomplish this is to crop in the camera or, more appropriately, frame correctly.
And the last reason I'm not particularly eager to sit in front of the computer to "fix" photographs.
The final result may be a calculated accident. Still, the joy of this artisan process is what attracts me to photograph.
I have had many files and films spoiled because the results were not what I expected, but the time spent attempting to create something unique via photography was well worth the effort; it feels much better than staying home watching TV...
I was re-reading Marcus Aurelius' Meditations. In this non-intentional diary turned into a book, he stated something that I have been thinking about for a while:
"(...) treat human beings as they deserve, be tolerant with everyone and strict with yourself (...)."
I have eternally attempted to practice understanding and compassion. Some days (I believe), I am successful; others, I could do better. We all have that compassion inside us; the goal is to apply it full-time (overtime, extra hours, and on-call) if necessary; that should be our goal.
Being "strict with yourself" is all about discipline. The only way to achieve personal freedom is through discipline. Discipline does not require talent; follow a personal "checklist" (if you want) about things you want to achieve and stick with this list. It certainly takes training, but with practice, anyone can achieve it. It gives you freedom because, say, you commit to making your bed every day before going to work; you're not thinking during the day that when you go back home, you have to straight up your room; when you're back, it just looks nice, and you can just lay down on your bed (at least for me, nothing feels better than laying down on a nice bed) or do something else that you enjoy. This action also cheers your day after a long hard day of work. Sometimes I think that people that have talent and have at the same time discipline are geniuses. There are few genius around, but many people with talent. If you are one of those people with talent, discipline yourself, and you could potentially be a genius (?!).
In Andrei Tarkovsky's The Sacrifice, Alexandre, the main character, states this:
" Say what you will, but a method,
a system has its virtues.
You know, sometimes I say to myself,
if every single day,
at exactly the same stroke of the clock,
one were to perform the same single act,
like a ritual,
unchanging, systematic,
every day at the same time,
the world would be changed.
Yes, something would change.
It would have to.
One could wake up
in the morning, let's say,
get up at exactly seven,
go to the bathroom,
pour a glass of water from the tap,
and flush it down the toilet. Only that!"
Going back to Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, if you want to improve yourself in any area, be strict with yourself and stick with a plan, and by doing so, you will achieve something meaningful to be proud of.
And as Marcus Aurelius said in his diary, don't expect others to have your discipline, be tolerant. It shows love and compassion. Only you can make the world round; nobody else can do it for you.
It seems a natural human "need" to "upgrade" from one state to another. There is always something "better" out there that we want that we believe can improve or completely fix our situation, whatever this mean; a new job, a new partner, or new gear. I will not comment at this time about the emotional "upgrades" that some people may desire. That would be a long conversation that would bring a long discussion. So instead, I will briefly touch on the material upgrades. Perhaps pressured by social media, perhaps pressured by half-convincing marketing strategies popping up everywhere in our modern life, we all somehow have been pressured to "upgrade" a material item that will facilitate either our work or our convenient everyday life, from new cell phones to new e-cars and the list can go forever. I will tell you about my experience.
I felt that I needed a camera that would do it all...under my perception, this camera would be a medium format camera (any format, 645, 6x6, 6x7, or 6x9), fully manual with double exposure capability, mirror locked up, with several accessories available, including extension tubes, angular and telephoto lenses, different screen exchange possibilities, lens reflex and small enough to carry in my backpack when traveling. And despite already having several cameras, risking duplicating gear, I found this fantastic late '60s Kowa Six MM with an 85mm lens!
It was reasonably priced (although "reasonable" is questionable considering a 60-year-old semi-obsolete camera). Upon arrival, I was excited about my excellent new/used (pre-own, recycled, reborn, whatever marketing word you prefer) camera. It looked lovely, compact, rugged, all metal, with all the desired features. My only concern was its weight...I thought having a more compact 6x6 camera than my Rolleifelx 6003 would be the ticket, but I realized that the weight between both cameras was quite similar, ounces more, ounce less; there was not much of a weight difference (imagine a brick weight, so anyway pretty heavy). No wonder this is an almost 60-year-old camera made, which means all metal. Plastic at that time was a novelty (now it is all inverse). OK, no problem, I'll get used to it. However, there was another issue I should have considered; because the lenses for the Kowa are leaf shutters, they need a unique Kowa extension tube that transmits the information from the camera to the lens and vice versa. I looked for these extension tubes on the used market and found that some people were selling the extension tube set for 60% of what I paid for the camera with lens. Quite disappointing. Did I mention that a reasonable price is debatable, considering an old piece of gear?
The camera is super lovely, but first, it is heavier than expected, and second, one of the essential tools I use in my cameras are the extension tubes, which are pretty pricy in the used market. And I wasn't even on the lookout for other lenses. But, well, it is still worth it, I talked to myself.
Let's see how it photographs.
The camera has a particularity. After shooting a frame, the mirror stays in the up position. In order to see again through the viewfinder after exposure, the film needs to advance to the next frame. Something I was not fond of, but I could get used to it, too. I walked to my local beach (Hidden Beach in Aptos) and took advantage of the recent rain; a photogenic creek/lake formed on the shore. There was an old tree in the middle of the creek that would add to the framing. It was lovely; an excellent way to test the camera's capability/functionality.
That same night I developed the 120 Ilford Delta 100 roll. I noticed a dark see-through area at the bottom of the image. It could be unperceivable for some eyes, but not for my picky ones. It could have occurred during the developing process. So I shot another film; this time, I photographed some stills in my portable home studio. After developing this second film, I noticed the same issue. After some analysis, I realized the problem came from the camera rather than the development. I contacted the seller, who gently requested to return the camera for inspection by the technician. A few days later, the seller indicated that the issue was "a sticky shutter in the lens causing the delay in the camera body's auxiliary shutter behind the mirror." The seller informed me that the options would be to wait for another lens to be available or process a return.
I slept on it...I like the camera a lot. It is heavier than I expected but very well built. I can wait and find a few extension tubes I can purchase for less than some people charge. Other lenses? Well, that is going to be expensive anyways. But the critical question here is, do I need it? I have my Rolleiflex, which already fulfills all my requirements and works flawlessly; it is also a 6x6 format. I have all the accessories on hand that took me a while to find in the used market at a reasonable price. And ultimately, the Kowa won't make me take better pictures. I just wanted to have the Kowa Six MM. Eventually, in this world of unhappiness or disregard for what we already have, I felt like a victim of excessive ambition for a camera I didn't need. I ended up returning it for a full refund.
"What I don't have, I don't need" was a phrase attributed to Chilean folklorist Violeta Parra. We find the need for something available that we don't own but want. Suppose something we need for work will help us be more productive and bring us more revenue, then welcome. Otherwise, think about what you have next to you, and you may already have the answer to your needs. Our perception of need may suggest just an arbitrary meaning of our needs. Initially, I said I would not discuss emotional "upgrades" but think about what you already have with you, not what you don't have. As long as you have a place or somebody you can call home, you may not need any "upgrades."
Yesterday I went to see a science fiction movie named 65. I don't have much expectation from Hollywood movies anymore because they almost always end in a massive explosion (Sci-fi movie or not, and this one was not the exception), but I was curious about something; the movie was recorded in a digital camera, CineAlta camera, to be more specific. Sony produces CineAlta cameras, which is exciting because they emulate the film looking.
Interestingly, a digital camera attempts to deliver a product that imitates the look of film rather than having its unique look. Furthermore, It mimics the anamorphic format. I am unsure if it uses the cinemascope lenses or adaptors or is built into the camera as an effect.
I wonder if cinematographers are using a light meter or if this will also become obsolete at some point; if not currently, soon, a histogram will likely be visible on the monitor where the cinematographer can adjust the exposure, similar to our digital cameras.
With the utilization of digital cameras to produce movies, we should also change some wording. First, we should not call "filming" a movie because it does not use film. Also, using the word "footage" will be obsolete because the film is a physical medium measured in feet, but digital media records in a card or hard drive.
There is another title we should also consider changing: movie director. We know that nowadays, at least in Hollywood, movie directors don't direct a movie, or as Tarkovski explained in his book Sculpting in Time:
"It is no exaggeration to say that at every turn, the director is beset by the danger of becoming a mere witness, observing the scriptwriter writing, the designer making sets, the actor playing, and the editor cutting.
That is, in fact, what happens in highly commercialized productions: the director's task is merely to coordinate the professional functions of the various members of the team."
Calling "coordinator" a movie director would probably offend a movie professional. So, although long overdue, we can hold the changing of this title for now, but we should keep it in mind.
I had fun watching 65, which is the goal of going to the movies anyway. My apologies for spoiling the ending by revealing the enormous explosion the flick finishes with. I guess it is expected to see by now in all movies, if you haven't figured it out, for a US 45 million production.
When my friend moved to San Francisco, she found a new hobby; photographing with her cell phone any heart shape she would find; usually leaves, stones on the ground, or even tar on the pavement; anything that would look like a heart. Sensitized with her little project, I started looking for the same shapes in my walks, imagining she was nearby and would need extra eyes to capture them with her cellphone. But instead, I often found the heart shapes she would like to photograph, some of them looking like broken hearts; maybe I lacked the eyes to look at the suitable shapes. Later on, somehow, I found myself photographing flowers and leaves, often dry, that demand some attention. I find them beautiful; even when their colors are gone, little pieces of nature still have their imperfect beauty. On my walks or jogs to the beach, I always look at the ground to find a photogenic leave or a little branch that I could later capture in film. There is also the simplicity of the subject that attracts me. It is part of mindfulness, the open soul and eyes that we should always have to live in the present and what is surrounding us and appreciate it as we breathe. My friend inspired me to look at these simple and natural pieces to enjoy photographing. I hope she is doing well and her heart is not as broken as the shapes I found, but rather more full and filling as the heart shapes she found.
I saw Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless long ago and remember parts of it, but not in its totality. So last Tuesday night seemed a good time to watch it.
Breathless was highly innovative in its direction and cinematography at the time; interesting enough, Godard stated in his book Godard on Godard that the film did not turn how he thought because "I did not have enough technical skills."
One of the critical elements of Breathless direction and cinematography was using the handheld camera. By using these elements, Breathless successfully transmitted its message to us.
Reading further about Breathless, I found the article Handheld camera hell. It describes the handheld camera overuse in today's cinematography of what at one time was innovative. For a long time, I have realized that once a new way to present an artistic expression appears, it becomes a formula in mainstream films and is utilized until there is no tomorrow (in acting, scripts, direction, topics, and cinematography). For example, how often have we seen a movie comedy where the character panics and, looking straight at the camera, starts screaming? The first time I saw this was in Raising Arizona, and since then, I have the impression that in every comedy where the characters are surprised by a situation, they scream, looking straight at the camera.
The article Handheld camera hell goes even further, indicating that today's excessive handheld cinematography has become more of a style that dissociates from the film's main message.
The same phenomenon occurs with photography today. With the creation of new technology, photography today focuses on having the following style: everything in focus, excessively sharp, with full details in shadows and highlights, and super-oversaturated colors, but how about its message? Can we say that the technical perfection of the image does not take over our message? Or is the communication so weak that it needs to be mascaraed using the last ultimate software for sale offering twenty-something "dramatic" preset skies to choose from?
In the meantime, camera manufacturers and photography software will continue profiting while we'll continue to have clone photographs, lacking a clear message, but for sure with "dramatic" skies.
The other day I was watching videos on YouTube about composition in photography. I don't know you, but sometimes watching videos on YouTube, more than being interested in the content, I am more interested in the viewer's comments. In this specific video, one of the viewers stated that it was tough for him to compose on camera and said being confused about the "tips" provided in the video regarding composition. I returned to the video and understood what the viewer was saying. The video creator placed lots of lines and spirals drawn on the photographs to demonstrate how to compose correctly. According to him, following those lines would make the composition of the pictures "perfect." I paused for a minute and thought about it.
YouTube is full of "cooking books" on photography. And the worst advice is given about compositions.
When I started photography, I learned always to compose the frame horizontally. The professor I had prohibited us from photographing in a vertical (portrait) orientation to prepare us for Direction of Photography, which was the name of the class. In cinema, even close up are filmed horizontally. Older movies, where the pace is slower and allows you to perceive the small camera movements, are the best education about composition; either the camera finds the equilibrium by balancing the subjects on the frame, or the actors, through the director's instructions, compose themselves into the frame with their movements in the set. Watch Antonioni's or Ingmar Bergman's films, and you will learn how arrangement seems natural in the frame. Andrei Tarkovsky and Kurosawa's movies are also notable in their compositions. I have to state this, though; directors like those mentioned above never look at the scene through the camera's viewfinder; they direct the stage and the director of photography, who places the subjects into the frame under the director's supervision.
Like a movie director, in still photography, we should visualize and compose our scene before preparing the camera. Therefore, I invite you to learn how to frame your photograph before looking through your camera's viewfinder. It may sound counterintuitive, but it is not. We focus too much on the final image that we forget the Mise en scène (staging in English). Shooting in film teaches this: to slow down and ensure that all the elements are arranged and organized on the stage first. The learning process when shooting with film is that you do not have immediate feedback on the screen of your camera, like in digital photography. Instead, the results are seen after the film has been developed. If you are disappointed with the results, analyze what failed, what worked, and how to improve it, and then try again. Because it is more "costly" (time and money spent), the film route is a better learning process than having immediate feedback with your digital camera screen. In other words, you become too dependent on the quick screen feedback rather than on your learning process. All of this is valid for landscape, still life, or even portrait photography: watch your subject before you look through the viewfinder and observe your model's posture; how they stand, are the shoulders straight?
Of course, you can practice this discipline of photography on your digital camera. However, photographing with film forces you to depend more on your learned experience through the process of the non-fun "try and fail" formula.
I have had several cameras throughout the years and narrowed them down to the ones that are my favorites; I prefer SLR cameras, either medium format or 35mm. This preference is because I use filters that are fundamental for the photography I do. I have had twin-lens reflex and rangefinder cameras, but they bother me because I cannot see the effect of the filters through the lens. Also, it is challenging or even impossible to use these cameras with extension tubes or macro lenses due to the critical focus required.
Currently, I use two formats of cameras. My favorite one is the Rolleiflex 6003 Pro, a 6x6 medium format. This Rolleiflex is similar to the size and weight of a brick. The negative that delivers, though, is lovely. I also have several manual Nikon F line 35mm that are fun to use, but the negative delivers less beautifully than medium format negatives.
Working with 6x6 format has been very easy. Not much of a transition from 645 medium format or 35mm, at least for my appreciation. Regardless of the camera you use, the most important thing is to use it and find out what works for the type of work you want to achieve.
Why film photography?
For me, an artisan process goes along with film photography. I appreciate the nature of the slow process built into working with film. Indeed the approach to film photography is prolonged, especially from developing the film and on.
The subjects photographed on this site are pretty simple, and that is how I want to be, but believe me, one image may take me all day to conceive.
However, despite all the work and effort, I love the process of working with film. There is a peaceful meditation I found so enjoyable working with all the details. Beyond the final results, the creative process is what I enjoy the best.
I have yet to mention the inspiration. Well, that is the hardest of all; that is the one that may take even longer yet.
That's right... as a football (soccer) fan, the FIFA Football World Cup has always been the most important event I remember when I was a kid; it's an important event worldwide. Unfortunately, this passion is completely ignored in the United States, but it's a story for another time.
Thanks to its simplicity, football is widespread worldwide; you only need a ball and friends.
I recall that after school, the park became the football field and school backpacks became the goals. The rules were very liberal: if the ball crossed over the goalkeeper? No goal. The edge of the field? No such thing. Penalties? Only one step back to kick the ball. If there was no park nearby? No problem, we played on the street, only moving to the sidewalk when a car drove by.
As an adult, I continue to play and enjoy the game as much as I did as a child.
I hope you enjoy this World Cup in Qatar...and later, you may enjoy kicking the ball in the park over the weekend, attempting to play like Messi, Ronaldo, or De Bruyne.
I have developed a particular fascination for black-and-white photography.
I believe that black-and-white photography should be called "Gray-Chromatic Photography." Indeed, color photography has color, but black-and-white photography does not necessarily have only black and white but rather gray and all its tones.
Before, my problem with black-and-white photography was that I could not see in black and white. As a photographer, this is probably the most significant disadvantage of black-and-white; you must learn to "see" in gray tones. However, there is also another disadvantage, and that is color. When you are not used to seeing in gray tones, color photography is much more attractive to the photographer and the viewer's eye. These disadvantages make black-and-white photography an imperfect art.
Years ago, I went to a speech by French-Chilean filmmaker Raúl Ruiz. He talked about his movies and stated that some were full of mistakes, making them perfect. It took me a while to understand the meaning of his statement. Today, I interpret it like this; art is a man-made discipline; therefore, there is human imprecision. If we want to demand precision, Van Gogh should have taken a ruler and traced the lines in his Yellow Chair painting to make the chair's lines straight.
Black-and-white photography is an imperfect medium, and that is what I love the most about it. It lacks color, yet it is full of gray tones; it looks simple yet is complex to work with.
Here, I will state something controversial: black-and-white photography only has to be done in a black-and-white film. The reason is that black-and-white film only photographs in black and white. So, if you photograph with a digital camera and your original idea was to create a final piece in black and white, that is fine. However, a color image should not be switched to a black-and-white image just because the colors did not turn that great, and, to "rescue it," it is changed to a black-and-white image.
Neither because now, in front of the computer, the photograph looks more "dramatic" in black and white.
In art, it would be a mistake to state what is right or wrong. However, a color photograph should not be manipulated to imitate black-and-white film simply because of the executioner's lack of understanding of the approach to black-and-white photography.
One of my favorite books is Thus Spoke Zarathustra. The biggest lesson I learned from this book is that the only person I ever have to compete against is myself. Let me explain...
The other day I was walking on the beach and saw these little birds digging the shore, I assume, for food. When the waves approached the coast, the little birds ran away the fastest they could to not be washed away by the waves...when a more significant wave came in, they didn't have another option than fly away. I started to think how stressful it may be for these little birds to look for food and stay dry. If the little birds were humans, they probably would wish they were a hawk or a Bald eagle...
On the internet, you can always find more talented and successful artists, real estate agents, cooks, athletes, writers, bloggers, nurses, friends, fathers, you name it, and we would like to be like them. In reality, there will always be someone more talented than us. All of this may become a source of stress, not being the person we want to be due to our lack of skills. Someone else with their acquired or natural skills will always run over us. However, our focus should not be to "compete against" a more talented person or attempt to be like somebody else. Someone with more talent can inspire us, but we all have different capabilities. If we want to look for someone to compete against, that person is ourselves. Can we become, in whichever discipline we are (personal or professional), a better version of ourselves today than we were yesterday? Can we improve it even more tomorrow? We may still have limitations, but with discipline and consistency, we can become that improved version of ourselves. As for me, I have found peace with myself in improving my capabilities rather than becoming better than anyone else. Even with some drawbacks, I feel satisfied with attempting it every day...
I was watching last night Andrei Tarkovsky's Nostalghia. The silence, the camera movements, the lighting... there are so many memories that I kept, without thinking, in the chest pocket of the years. All those memories return today effortlessly. For a moment, I meditate about the dreams I build as a child. Those dreams have transformed into new ones with a much more concrete meaning. Nostalghia brings me back to the spring of those dreams. The most significant matter is not if they eventually come true or not...maybe the process and the attempt to turn them into reality is what matters.
Marcos Valdebenito Photography
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