First look at Matthew Larkin’s "Suspended In Time" wet plate collodion book

Cover of collodion photography Suspended in Time by Matthew Larkin (Black Barn Editions)

I recently stopped by wet plate collodion photographer Matthew Larkin’s studio and got a look at an advance copy of his just-published book, Suspended in Time, which is the end result of a two year collaboration between Larkin and body suspension group Rites of Passage.

I’m a bit of a hard sell when it comes to photography books. Not only had the images better be damn good, but it had better be printed well, form a coherent body of work, and the pictures mustn’t give everything up at once, they’ve got to be engaging and give me something to explore over time. A book I can flip through once and say, "that was good, but I got it, and I don’t necessarily need to see it again," isn’t getting my money or sustained attention. Suspended in Time delivers on all fronts, which is why it gets my vote and my cash. The photography—the subject of which will undoubtedly be truly challenging for some—is compelling and well edited, and the book itself is gorgeously designed by Binocular and impeccably printed by top-of-the-heap fine art printers Studley Press.

In the 15 or so years I’ve been doing print design professionally, I’ve developed an annoyingly critical eye that sees the slightest printing defect coming a mile away. Usually, offset printing is a frustrating guessing game, where getting the expected result is difficult, expensive, and rare, because it’s an analog, mechanical process where a lot can go wrong. Larkin and the designers were on press for a week working with the printers to get the duotone inks and varnish balanced just right. The result is nothing short of phenomenal; this is one of the best- and most interestingly-printed things I’ve ever seen.

What does this mean for the photos? They managed to get much, much closer to the look of the original black glass ambrotypes than I thought was possible with offset printing. Due to the colored varnish, the page surfaces are half-way between matte and high-gloss. It’s a look that I ordinarily wouldn’t care for, but it happens to work perfectly for the material: some of the otherworldliness of the glass originals is of course lost on paper, but the finish makes up for it, albeit in a slightly different, though no less effective, direction.

There are few cues about when the photos were made, which makes them difficult to nail down. They’re equally believable at 1 or 150 years old. The printing makes them look both immediate and anachronistic, with none of the sense of temporal distance that usually comes with old photos. Time-wise, they pick you up and throw you, but don’t let you see where you landed. It’s a neat trick that sets the stage for beginning the real work of digesting the content.

I think you should really have your own experience of the photos, so I’m not going to say anything more about the subjects. I do suggest going for the ride, though, and looking at and thinking about what comes up for you when you look at them. It’s probably going to be a challenge, but I think it’s a worthy one. There are a lot of interesting questions to be found here if you let them in. If you’d like to get a peek, there are several plates from the book here at the publisher’s site and in this previous post here on Photon Detector.

Given the material, the photographic process, and the fact that this is the first book of its kind, Larkin had an opportunity to write a Weston daybook-style flowery and self-congratulatory bit of wankery for the introduction. I’m quite pleased to report that he didn’t take it. Instead, he provides enough background to help you understand what you’re looking at, but stops before boring you or turning it into a public masturbation session, and lets the work speak for itself. A successful artist statement is a rare treat. Thanks for that.

Don’t let the fact that I know Larkin detract from this statement in any way: this book is incredible. It’s a unique piece that I know I’ll get a lot of exploration out of for a long time to come. I almost tried to come up with something bad to say so this seems more balanced, but I’ve got nothing. (For the record, I don’t accept free or discounted stuff from anyone I write about here. I saw the book, I like it, and I’m paying full price.)

You can order direct from the publisher, Black Barn Editions. The book is US $70 plus shipping, and express and international shipping are available.

Look for interviews with Larkin and several of the subjects in the coming weeks.

 

Clothbound with jacket, 9.25 × 11.5 inches
70 duotone illustrations in 144 pages

Edition limited to 2000, of which 100 are signed and numbered by the artist.

ISBN 978-0-9793352-0-4
US $70.00

 

More coverage
Review by NYC.com

Review by Phil Nesmith

 

Cover image © copyright 2007 Black Barn Editions. Used with permission.

NZ considers royalties on re-sold art

The Government is considering putting a royalty payment on artworks when they are resold.

It means artists would receive a royalty payment each time an original artwork was resold on the secondary art market.

Such an arrangement is in place in 50 countries, Arts Minister Helen Clark and her associate Judith Tizard said…

Continue reading at the New Zealand Herald

This is interesting, it would put visual art on a more even footing with recorded musical and performed art. Thoughts?

Boneyard: Night photography by Troy Paiva and Joe Reifer, CA, US

Boneyard night photography show flyer

Opening Reception: Friday May 4th, 2007 from 6:30 pm to 10:30pm

Neptune Beach Amusement Museum’s
The Lucky Ju Ju Pinball Art Gallery
713 Santa Clara Avenue
Alameda, CA 94501 (US)

Runs from May 4th to May 30th, 2007

In the summer of 2006 night photographers Troy Paiva and Joe Reifer were granted access to photograph "Aviation Warehouse", a high desert airplane boneyard near El Mirage Dry Lake. This surreal location is a graveyard for every type of aircraft imaginable, from tiny Cessnas, to military fighters and transports, pre-war prop-liners, to wide-body jet airliners. Dead planes lay chopped and gutted amongst the Joshua Trees. Sheared-off noses reveal rows of empty seats and oxygen masks silently dangling. Clouds smear like ghosts and the stars arc across the sky during the long exposures.

All of the effects you’ll see were created "in camera" at the time of exposure. In some cases colored flashes and flashlights were used to complement the light of the full moon. These are not Photoshop creations.
A legend in the world of night photography, Troy Paiva has been creating colorful interpretations of the abandoned roadside west for almost 20 years. His book Lost America and www.lostamerica.com website have been an inspiration to countless night photographers.
Joe Reifer is a fine art, portrait and editorial photographer who specializes in night and low light photography. His night work focuses on abandoned places. Please visit his website www.joereifer.com and blog www.joereifer.com/words

The Gallery
The Lucky Ju Ju Pinball Gallery is a unique underground arena for vintage pinball machines and a showcase for artists. We are in our fifth year and this is the 34th art show presented since the opening of the “Trans –View” gallery. The art shows are always free but we hope you will support the NBAM by paying the admission to the pinball arcadium and enjoy our fine selection of vintage games.

Since it is well hidden and many are not adept with map quest, here are directions: Come to Alameda via the Alameda Tube (Webster St/Oakland) and continue on Webster. After 4 signal lights, turn left onto Santa Clara. Take the first Left into the parking lot, we are in the door that opens into the lot. Although the Pinball Arcadium is open only on Friday and Saturday nights, the Gallery, in the foyer, is always viewable from 9am to 9pm daily. The Neptune Beach Amusement Museum is a 501 c 3 non profit. www.nbam.org

Kodak infrared films to be discontinued

UK photo retailer Silverprint reports in their newsletter that Kodak are discontinuing both of their infrared emulsions, the black and white HIE and the false-colour Ektachrome Infrared. Kodak will stop accepting orders from stockists for the films in May 2007, so start hoarding now. (Kodak’s web site doesn’t note the discontinuation, but that isn’t unusual, and I count Silverprint as a reliable source.)

There are other options for black and white infrared, such as Rollei IR820c (formerly Maco IR820c [corrected by Jon below]), Fomapan 400 NIR 730, and Ilford SFX 200 [corrected by George and Jon below], but there are no alternatives to Ektachrome Infrared that I’m aware of.

Shut the fuck about about battery-independent cameras

If I hear one more person bang on about how fully manual cameras are so superior because you can shoot without batteries, I’m going to puke. This is one of the most bullshit arguments I’ve ever heard, and is usually trotted out as a preemptive defense of paying too much for a camera that does too little.

It’s true that if you run out of batteries with a battery-powered camera, you have to stop shooting. No batteries, no picture. But … this just in … no film, no pictures! You have to carry film anyway. Batteries are small and light, and you can fit several in the space of a single roll of 35mm or medium format film. If saving such a negligible amount of space were really the paramount concern, you’d be shooting a compact digicam with as big a memory card as it would take, so stick a few extra batteries in your bag and shut the fuck up already.

This argument is normally accompanied by people working themselves into a fetishistic lather about what "precision photographic instruments" these cameras are. This is also a load of shit: well-adjusted mechanical shutters can be off by 1/3 to 1/2 a stop and still be considered perfectly in-spec, which is enough to blow an exposure on slide film. Battery-driven electromagnetic shutters are far more accurate. I’d think that anyone who pays that much for "precision" equipment and wanks to MTF charts would (and should) be aware of this, but apparently this is not the case—at least not among the people I’ve seen discuss Leica and Hasselblad online. (You think 1/500 on your Hasselblad V-series lens is really 1/500? Not likely.)

None of this is to say that they’re bad cameras or that people are stupid for using them. What I am saying is that every camera is a trade-off, and there’s nothing wrong with acknowledging the areas in which a given one comes up short. And there’s certainly no reason to lie to yourself and others just because you paid a lot for something: stay with us in reality, no camera system is perfect. Your Leica M [6 or earlier] is great in many areas, but it’s lacking the exposure precision most people claim. Your Hasselblad sucks for unobtrusive candids and animals because it sounds like a fucking shotgun. Just admit it. Doing so doesn’t take away from its strengths or mean you wasted your money.

I have and use many all-manual, battery-free cameras (including a Hasselblad 501C/M, lest anyone be tempted to write this off as sour grapes). They each have their virtues (or I’d get rid of them), but the ability to shoot without batteries is not among them.

Holga exposure mystery not solved

The exposure math of the Holga has always been a mystery to me, because it seems to violate the reliable Sunny 16 Rule. The rule basically states that if you set your shutter speed to the ISO of your film and the aperture to f/16, you’ll get a solid exposure in direct sunlight. (For example, if you had ISO 50 film, you’d set your shutter speed to the nearest number, likely 1/60.)

Admittedly, every Holga is a bit different, but I did have one of my Holgas tested with a shutter speed tester, and it came in at a fairly reliable 1/100 sec, which is what it’s supposed to be. As I found out while I measured for The facts about Holga apertures, a stock Holga has an aperture of f/13.3, regardless of the position of the sunny/cloudy switch. So with aperture of roughly f/13 and a shutter speed of 1/100, you should be able to shoot ISO 100 film in bright sunlight and have a proper exposure. (Technically about a half stop over as we’re at f/13.3 instead of 16, but that’s well within the exposure latitude of modern print films, so you should just get a little extra shadow detail).

So why the hell do I have to shoot ISO 200 or 400 film in bright sunlight to get a decent exposure, while I get underexposed mud with ISO 100, which should work perfectly? After thinking about it for a while, I strongly suspected that the plastic "Optical Lens" must have a good deal of transmission loss and was blocking two stops of light, so I set up a test: I pointed a Canon 580EX flash fitted with a Sto-Fen Omni-Bounce diffuser straight into a Holga with a Sekonic L-558R meter (which is extremely accurate and consistent) stuck in the back. I metered the flash through the camera five times with and five times without the lens in place and was fucking shocked by what I discovered: there was effectively no transmission loss. The readings averaged out to differ by only about 1/6 of a stop.

WTF??!? It’s not the lens. It’s not the aperture. It’s probably not the shutter: while I can allow for the possibility that the speed changes over time—it was over a year ago I had it tested—I consistently have the same exposure requirements with all of the 8-ish Holgas I have. What’s left? Light-eating gnomes?