Fun with Film: Kodak Supra 100

The world of Color Negative Film has gotten to be a bit dull to me - not dull as in "unsaturated," but more so dull in that there are not a lot of fresh options when I care to see if I can try out a new palette. 

Fortunately, there are, at the moment, a number of expired film stocks still found today, under 15 years old, that can still produce good results.  While these films may not be readily available, or even consistent from roll to roll, they can at least make for a fun new shooting exercise to throw into a trusted camera to see what you get.

One such film is Kodak Supra 100, an emulsion that appears to have shown up on the market around 2000, just as the world of digital photography was about to take off.  The introduction of a slower 100 speed film during an era when compact point and shoot cameras (that tended to need faster speed films) had gained so much traction in the market is an interesting and refreshing thing to note.  I'd presume that this film was marketed towards serious amateurs using SLR cameras or similar equipment.  

Information on Supra's selling points today can be a tad scant given that many web pages contemporary with the period the film was sold, have since vanished into cyberspace.  It seems that this film's main strengths were a vivid color and fine grain in comparison to the Kodak Gold and Royal Gold products at the time.  Supra was discontinued in all speeds around 2003, and remaining stocks of the film appear sporadically on eBay and other sales outlets, often in quantities of 5 rolls or less.

I happened to snap up a small lot of expired film from an ebay auction that included one roll of Supra, and was curious to see what this film could do, though the most recent examples of the film I could find on the web were a bit too "Lomo" for my tastes.  I elected to set out close to home with this film loaded in my Exakta VX, swapping from the Domiplan 2.8 to the Primotar 3.5 lens, and then finishing the roll in the Minolta A5 in order to see what sort of color the latter camera might provide.   

At the onset of the roll, the Supra provides a look that certainly doesn't look like a roll of film that was likely 15 years old, offering up bright colors that embody the vivid morning on which I rambled about.  Grain increase is evident in the sky, but is by no means distracting. 

Fun with Film: Cross Processed Ektachrome Professional Plus

It seems to be a common problem with me to have an excess of out of date slide film.  Sometimes, I will take the chance and try to process it in E6 and see if I can do some tweaking in post processing to get an image that is fairly neutral.  While this generally works to some degree, I'd much rather shoot fresh (or recently expired) E6 film for conventional photography.

Which leaves me to use the building stockpile of 20-30 year old slide film for experimentation.  And what would be easier than cross processing some of it in C-41 chemistry in the midst of a color negative run.  

Such was what I did with a roll of "Ektachrome Pro Plus" that I had in my possession.  Loading it up in my more recent variant of a Gevabox camera, I fired off 8 shots handily on a return trip home on a fairly sunny afternoon.  This would be my first color photography in a Gevabox, and while I didn't expect a faithful rendition, I did look forward to seeing what it could manage.

In Mount Airy, MD, I took a snapshot of the former train depot with the caboose in the distance.  Teh result was pretty decent for a fairly limited camera on an expired film with a narrow exposure latitude. 

Fun with Film: Agfa 100 HDC

When it comes to color film, there have been Kodak loyalists, Fuji Loyalists, and those who just like shooting film regardless of who made it.  I'm certainly one who falls in the latter camp, but I've long admitted a particular fondness for Agfa color films.  I love Ultra 50, used to shoot a bit of my favorite portfolio shots on Portrait 160, and had also liked using their "general purpose" color films as well.

One of those films, not often found today, was Agfa 100 HDC.  It was a very clean and snappy film, and one that I tended to find more neutral than the warm tones of Kodak Gold or the cool hues of many Fuji stocks.  

I managed to come across a short sample roll of HDC not too long ago, and decided to give it another try.  To get as many images from the roll as I could, I spooled it onto my custom 828 backing and shot it in square format through the Bantam RF for which I had the 24x24mm square mask made.  Here is a look at some of the good and not so good from this roll.  

I was quite pleased at how this long expired film had held up over the decade and change since it was made.  Taken in late afternoon light, this image conveys a look that looks just like the scene taken.  The blue-green color of the street posts is actually the shade they are painted.

Fun with Film: Fujicolor Reala 100

It would have done me a lot of good to simply listen and pay attention years ago.  A lot of good.

Before taking a break from shooting film, I predominantly shot slide film.  I really had a distaste for color negative film, finding the color palette of negative films to be lacking compared to the bold and vibrant colors of transparency film.  There were a few exceptions, such as the vivid Agfa Ultra 50 film, that were known departures from this rule  And while there were general purpose transparency films that had rich and vivid color renditions, there seemed no such thing on the print side of the house.

I recall hearing a decent amount of love for Fuji Reala 100 in particular as a print film with a very likelike vividness rendered in rich hues, but thought this simply meant it rendered accurate skin tones for portraiture, and feeling nothing in the way of loss that I'd neglected to give "yet another print film" at least one try.  

Upon ordering the last couple rolls of Agfa Ultra 50 from a favorite Etsy seller, I was greeted with a happy little bonus of a pair of rolls of Fuji Reala 100 tossed into the package. Thankful to have this bonus, but still not knowing much about the film, I tossed it in with the rest of my expired film and elected to just run the first roll through the Vivitar 5500PZ. This choice was not as much to test the film but to have some cheap color results to show from this camera.

I took the camera along with me on a few Spring outings and before long, I'd wrapped up this roll of film handily, dropping it into one of my home-developed batches of color film to await some results to scan and post, all the while expecting nothing terribly special in the way of results from this film that had been discontinued about a decade ago.  

But that would quickly change.  As the scans began to complete, I realized just what a phenomenal film this is.  Even a poorly done shot on Fuji Reala can look remarkably impressive when it contains a nice pop of color to draw in the eye.  With each additional scan, I realized that I really should have been more open minded regarding this film during the days when it was being made, as I'd almost instantly come to be remiss at its discontinuance. 

So without further delay, have a look at the Fuji film known as Reala, and join me in my sorrowful realization that this is yet one more amazing film that is all but unavailable today.  

It is a major irritation when your camera gives you an affirmative green light that your subject is in focus when it really is not.  Still, the color rendition of this film is nothing short of amazing, as seen here.

Trying not to GAF with the Memo EE

Ever shot a photo with one hand with the other bracing a pole?  Over a blind fence? Panning a moving subject due to a slow shutter speed? Or how about simply using a scale focus camera and no meter to shoot a roll of film?  

Sometimes one best shots are taken in situations where there may be little in the way of guidance or control.  And sometimes, photography can be at its most fun when it's not a cake walk of perfectly metered exposure and/or easy focusing.

In the Summer of last year, as my frugality was ramped up to about the same degree as my Gear Acquisition Syndrome, I stumbled across a cheap listing for a compact little rangefinder camera produced under the GAF name, and couldn't resist.  For about $14.50 total, I snapped up the GAF Memo EE rangefinder in unknown working condition and not knowing just what to expect from this model.

Admittedly, I knew I was flirting with danger with this pickup.  Unlike some compact rangefinder models of the 1960's and 1970's, the GAF does not offer a manual mode, so snapping one up in an "as-is" condition leaves one at the mercy of the longevity of the rather primitive electronics within its confines.  And neither that mercy nor any luck were on my side when the GAF arrived.  I discovered a dead meter in this budget pick up.

The particularly tiny GAF Memo EE is loosely related to the Konica C35, and also has some near-identical twins with various other nameplates. 

Fun with Film: Polaroid Color Print 200

The world of online auctions will have you thinking quickly now and again, with too little time to really weigh out the value of a possible pickup.  Before you know it, you've bought something that seemed like a great deal in the moment but worry about having some sense of buyers remorse afterwards. 

Some of my camera acquisitions were snapped up in haste, and in spite of my follow up worries, have turned out to be favorites in my collection.  But these hastily made purchases don't always result in happy endings.  I've a nice little drawer of problem children that I'll have to document one day.

So when in looking about for film, I hit upon an auction ending within an hour for 22 12 shot rolls of 2002 vintage Polaroid Color 200 for about $16, I quickly piped in a bid and expected to be outbid. Instead, when the dust settled, I won the lot at opening bid.  Whodathunkit?!?

All told, once shipping was added in, I paid just over $1 a roll for this little stockpile of film. Now the concern weighing over we was whether I had bought a stock pile of junk! 

Packed in a box that proffers little in the way of marketing buzz, one wouldn't expect a vast amount of photographic character from shots taken on this film. 

Polaroid Color 200 was typically sold in 25 roll boxes, with each roll containing 12 exposures.  Its main purpose was to be able to quickly yield color images for businesses that needed photos. This might include realtors, insurance agents, or even press outlets.  With an emphasis on simply getting a representational image for practical purposes, Polaroid Color 200 lacks any of the traditional marketing buzz that typically surrounds color films.  There is no mention of vivid saturation, fine grain, or exceptional skin tones on the large box of this Polaroid film, but rather a no-nonsense "take it or leave it" box of film with a simple purpose in mind. 

Film Fun Folio #28: Kodak Autographic 1A and Long Expired Kodak Verichrome

Periodically, I'll be posting scans of some complete rolls of film on here, showing both the good and the bad, and giving some basic information as well a little write up of the shoot as well as the reasons why I selected each camera and film.  Enjoy the trip! 

Feature #28:

Camera: ca. 1929 Kodak Autographic 1A with Kodak f/7.9 lens.

Film: 1954 vintage Kodak Verichrome (orthochromatic version)

Locale: Frederick and Sharpsburg, MD

I've sort of taken my "Autographic Experiments" with the Kodak 1A and upped the ante with this roll.  I realized that I greatly enjoyed shooting the 1A as the 116 format camera that it was designed to be, and wanted to try it again.  At the same time, I had been challenged to try again with true "old school" ortho film that is more in line with the type of film used in these cameras in their heyday.  Since I'd not too long before gotten into developing my own black and white negatives, and since I had a tank and reel that could accommodate 116 format, I elected to give it ta try.  Below are the results.  

I developed this long developed film in a "cold brew" of HC-110 at a rather high concentration of about 1 part direct developing solution with 9 parts water, refrigerated for about 45 minutes before developing, and developed for about 9 minutes of nearly constant agitation.  The results rather pleasantly surprised me, as some show effects that would be largely impossible to replicate from a digital starting point. 

I started this roll with a shot taken in early Spring of a stone bridge near Boonsboro, MD.  As this was the outermost exposure on the roll, it suffered from the highest degree of fogging over the 60 years it sat dormant, but there is certainly a discernible result that gives off a wildly vintage feel.

Swell Reflex Too: The Minolta SR-T 200

I'm the Quirky Guy with a Camera, and I approve this message:

"In the market for a Pentax K-1000? Do you actually want to use it as a film camera, and do you have no sentimental attachment that makes you specifically want this model?  Do you actually like saving money?  Would you like a camera with nearly identical capabilities to a K-1000 at a fraction of the price?  If so, I present your camera!"

I rarely editorialize in my posts.  I tend to simply lay out my personal observations specific to particular camera model or film, present these observations along with my results, and let you, the reader, make an informed choice from the information I present.  I don't typically get into the heartfelt and often irrational positions that Camera A is "better" than Camera B so you'd better not buy the latter.

But every now and again, I notice something really off about the film world at large to which I feel I need to add a sanity check, and this is very much one of them.

One of the most iconic of 35mm film cameras of the later decades of film's prominence was the Pentax K-1000, a fairly simple 35mm SLR camera offering metered manual shooting and little else in the way of bells and whistles.  For years, it was THE standard camera for photography students and school yearbook offices, largely because it was the cheapest manual control camera available at the time.  It is a ubiquitous piece of film history as classic as a Hershey Chocolate Bar.  And it's also quite overpriced in today's market.

The Peculiar Paradox of the Perplexing Pickwik

To ponder and postulate the perils of my predicament was particularly problematic.  Phooey!

Sure I'm a "camera collector," but not in the most literal sense.  I like to limit myself to working examples of everything I might acquire and I most certainly seek to run at least one roll of film through everything I may have the fortune to pick up.

A few weeks ago, I happened on a bargain of a lot containing 7 cameras that I snagged for just over $20.  While it was just one camera of this batch that really drew me in, I hoped that at least some of the other more basic cameras were in operable condition to be able to use a time or two as well.  Who knows?  Maybe I would discover a new favorite from the motley assortment.  In a marked departure from my usual luck, it turned out that all 7 cameras had fully working shutters and appeared to need just cleaning to be ready to try out. 

One of the more interesting cameras in the batch was an unusual little guy branded as a "Pickwik." It is a true pseudo-TLR complete with two lenses and a small flip up screen designed to frame fixed focus shots in the 3x4 format on 127 film.  Armed with only settings for "Time" and "Inst," it is a particularly simple if interesting little camera.  I gave it a quick look over to get an idea of its operation and put it in the queue for eventual usage.

A unique and certainly oddball among 127 cameras of the era, the Pickwik "TLR" was an interesting pickup for me.

As it turns out, the odd little camera would be the first of this group to be pressed into service.  As I worked my way through my 21 roll assortment of D-i-Y color films, I had some headaches in advancing a roll of 127 film through my Foth Derby.  I realized only later that this turned out to be that I'd used a single ended spool on the take up side of the camera and it was facing the wrong way. Still, I looked forward to the chance to get a few snaps with the Pickwik, and since I had to open the camera in the dark to re-situate the take up spool anyway, I figured I may as well complete the rest of the roll in the Pickwik instead.  I gave it a quick cleaning with cotton swabs, loaded the film and shot the last 6 shots in this unusual little "TLR" camera of sorts.

Only to get results back like this...

Surprisingly Solid Substitute! The Konica C35EF

I stood at the ready, estimated my focus, and fired my first shot with the Konica C35EF.  The needle had indictated an aperture of between f/5.6 and f/8, and the shutter had readily fired at my direction.  Since I was just a few minutes from home, this shot, and the ones to follow, were pretty much snap shots, and by no means critical; yet I still had my hopes they would turn out.  Still, this was a camera that, merely an hour earlier, seemed destined to be sidelined for a while, as my attention focused on more "elegant" members of my collection.

It was this adoration to one of these more revered cameras that actually forced this situation to begin with. I had just received a trio of 12 exposure rolls of expired 100 speed "mystery film" from Ultra Fine. While they surmised it to be Konica film, the labeling strongly suggested it was of Ferrania/Imation origins.  There was no better way to find out than to shoot a roll of it, develop the results, and check the film rebate markings. It seemed a perfect creative diversion to couple with errands on a pleasant October afternoon.

My chosen vessel for this bit of photographic sleuthing was an elegantly designed and well loved folding compact camera of German origin.  I had been waiting for a suitable chance to test out this camera, and this seemed ideal. I threaded the mystery film into the take up spool, and needed to only take up the slack and advance the film to the first frame to get this show on the road. However, no amount of winding or other manipulation would make the take up spool spin on the German mini. My little project suddenly needed an alternative device upon which to expose frames. Sure I could go with any number of other tried and tested members of the collection, but the thought of shooting this guess-focused camera had me looking forward to a new shooting experience that I was now deprived of.  With my time limited, I recalled the Konica C35EF, which I brought up from the basement, loaded up with the film, and set out to shoot.

The late 70's/early 80's look of the Konica C35 EF (known as the "Pikkari" in Japan) looks right at home in an office setting of the same era.  All we need to complete the picture is a dot matrix printer!

$20, 21 Rolls. A Color Celebration!

The term "do-it-yourselfer" is pretty much a common part of conversational parlance these days, fueled to a large degree by the abundance of home improvement stores complemented by television networks devoted to featuring all of some of their programming to the "DIY" concepts.  Since moving a year ago, my weekend life has involved a oft-frustratingly expanding "Honeydo" list that only seems to grow as each project is finally completed. 

Given this, the thought of processing my own film had never quite appealed to me.  That was until I began to look at what professional developing was costing me.  Despite being a quirky guy with a camera, I'm also a frugal guy with a family, and thus, I began to develop my own black and white film, which proved to be a particularly simple enough exercise once I adapted my methods to something that works pretty readily around my sometimes involved home life. I'd figured that self-processing of black and white film would be as far as I'd venture, and that was fine, given that I'd expected color to be far less forgiving to my methods.

And then, as luck would have it, this all changed.

While perusing the Film Photography Project store, I stumbled upon an offer so good, I simply couldn't resist considering it.  For the measly sum of $19.99, I could get a Unicolor type color processing kit, in addition to 2 rolls of Vision 50T film.  I had just been considering picking up a couple of rolls of the film as it was, but it seemed the Rem Jet backing made it a tough film for which to find processing.  Not only would this address the need to find processing for such film, but it also tossed in the film I would have bought anyway as a bonus!

After a modest amount of online investigation into home processing with such a kit, in which pretty much every review stated that color processing with this kit was actually far easier than initially expected, and also reading that the stated yield of "8 rolls" from this kit had a great deal of elasticity if rolls were processed within two weeks of mixing, I figured that this small investment was certainly worth a try.  And I also figured that if I planned out my batches smartly. I could do as others had testified, and process at least 16 rolls of film from this 8 roll kit.

Without going into great detail of the process (there are already many resources that very capably detail the procedure far better than I could), I can unquestionably say that this was one of the best investments I've ever made.  Processing the first batch was both exciting and terrifying, but once I saw results from this, I managed to calm down to make slight revisions on future batches to make the process a bit more controlled and predictable.  

The ability to process so much color film so cheaply will enable me to really pick up the pace on postings, and has already enabled me to do things that I'd have been hesitant to do otherwise.  I've managed to test several "new" cameras, do a wider variety of things with many of my existing favorite cameras, try different film brands in a variety of ways, and of course do a quirky thing or two that I'd have likely passed up otherwise if it wasn't so affordable and accessible to process color film.  You'll begin to see some of the results of this vast experiment in the coming week.  

And in the meantime, it is only fitting that I provide some sample images from each roll so that you can see just a small fraction of what is to come!  For now, I'm keeping the film and camera of each a thinly veiled secret until I post the accompanying posts of content. 

Roll 1 

Fun with Film: Konica Impresa 50

Sometimes it is just nice to take things slow. 

Whenever I get the chance, I like to take things slow.  I have tended to actively seek out slower speed films in the hopes of getting results with minimal grain, the chance to limit depth of field in many instances, and in the case of color films, the hopeful opportunity to optimize color saturation and fidelity.

The problem is that in recent years, there are VERY few slow speed (under ISO 100) films available, particularly in color.  Velvia 50 and Cinestill 50D are about the entirety of the selection of slow speed color films available at present.  The slight silver lining to this is that slower speed films generally tend to remain more stable than their faster brethren.  I had fantastic luck with my first try with some expired Agfa Ultra 50, so I began looking for other slow speed color films with which to try my hand. Ultimately, I found a small quantity of some 15 year old Konica Impresa 50 that piqued my interest, and I picked up a few rolls on the hopes that it had remained stable. 

I'd never had the chance to try Impresa 50 when it was available in the late 1990's.  Not only was I shooting mostly color slides at the time, but I also never recall seeing it available at retail, despite reading of its introduction in photo magazines at the time.  I didn't recall what its main selling point was when I snapped up the film, and hoped for results with color saturation a notch above the typical 100 speed films. 

As it turns out, unlike Ultra 50 or Velvia 50, color saturation was not the hallmark of Impresa 50. Instead, it's selling point was a fine grain.  Still, I cut a roll down to "extended 828" size for some test shots in some sunny  Maine weather and hoped to see some decent results, though I had no idea what to expect.

I sent the film off for negative developing only, and the results that returned looked really pretty thin, which dashed most of my hopes for some really snappy color from the long-discontinued film.  Still, the film scanned with no real issues, aside from some severe color shifting towards the cooler end of the spectrum.  Sometimes I feel like I'd have more luck flying a biplane than steering a color shifted image towards neutrality, but I tried my best. Even the "auto" feature on Photoshop had challenges with the scans, so I didn't feel so bad.  The final results, good, and not so much, are laid out below. 

 My first image from Impresa 50 shows a definite lack of contrast and color, and the promoted fine grain seems to be lacking as well.

May the Foth be with you: The Derby Camera

In the digital photography era, a photographer who still collects and shoots film cameras can often feel like a kid in a candy store.  It is this feeling that tends to lead to an air of irresponsibility, particularly in the digital marketplace of online auctions.

The ease of finding interesting film cameras combined with a cheap outlay cost for acquisistion often results in the film camera collector finding themselves an owner of cameras which they may not have known about just an hour previously, leaving them the task to figure out a use, if any, for their newly found goods.

While I had heard about, and even read a bit about the Foth Derby, it was never a camera that struck me as a "must-have."  Yet, in my recently discovered interest in the 127 format, as well as my desire to shoot 127 film and come away with more shots per roll than the Agfa Billy 0 would provide, I'd given it enough consideration to place what I considered a lowball bid upon a reasonably decent example of this camera model.  When the last of the sands of the auction's hourglass had fallen down, I was the new owner of a Foth Derby, and no particular plan for it.

A camera design that has its share of genius and not-so-smart.

Box Camera Deluxe or TLR Lite - Part II - The Argoflex Forty

Variety is the spice of life in the world of medium format film photography. There are capably crafted SLR bodies as well as handy portable folding cameras.  There are timeless and treasured TLR cameras and basic budget-conscious box cameras. And then there are the interesting animals that tend to eschew the classifications above. They are neither truly TLR nor box camera, yet in some ways they are both of these.

Often referred to as "Pseudo-TLR Cameras," I tend to prefer a tad more delineation of the genre's nomenclature to the include the more depictive terms "Box Camera Deluxe" and "TLR Lite."

And what is interesting is that despite one these terms seeming to sound more derogatory than the other, you will find that this is hardly so.  I picked up an example of both of these sub-genres, each costing under $20, and am posting simultaneous reviews of each for your reading and viewing pleasure.

Resistance was Rediculous.

First things first: I LOATHE the 620 film format. Kodak's "idea" to create a "new" format identical in size to 120 but with a spool that can only fit in a 620 camera is just the sort of propietary format decision that I hate.

I am not opposed to reinvention and innovation. I can really like a "reinvented" format like 828 that, despite a film stock width identical to 35mm, offers benefits in both a measurably larger image size and a smaller form factor than the 35mm thanks to the smaller film rolls.  But I saw no such benefit from 620, so I elected to swear it off, both on the matter of stubborn principle, and so that I didn't have to stock film rolls in both formats, one of which was technically obsolete.

But my resistance turned out to be rediculous, as I began to trod down a slippery slope of which I was not even aware. And that slope's name was Verichrome Pan.

Verichrome Pan should certainly be among the contenders for the top three Kodak films of all time. Devised in 1956 as a successor to Orthochromatic Verichrome, and as the alternate to Plus-X in all formats larger than 35mm, the film had a tendency to be very gracious with regards to exposure latitude, which made it the easiest film to use in a range of cameras that were not the most technologically advanced.

Despite not being made for decades, the film also has a serious reverence among many present day film photographers who are able to shoot and develop Verichrome that is 50 years or older and still manage some amazing images.  I was first amazed by VP on one of my Autographic experiments and have kept an eye out for affordable stocks of this phenomenal film.  I have picked up this excellent film in the 828, 120, 116, 122, and 127 formats... and in 620.

That's right, 620. While I would concentrate on snapping it up in the formats for which I had cameras, it was seeming as though I was always spotting Verichrome at great prices in 620 format. Since I could still easily cut down the film to other formats or re-roll it onto 120 spools, it made perfect sense to add it to the stable. And then I one day realized I had a lot of 620 film. Conundrum.

I realized that my self imposed moratorium on 620 cameras maybe, just maybe, needed to have an exception made.  Besides, the person who collects old cameras will often willingly look for any excuse to add a new piece to their collection, and I could hardly claim that I was any different from most vintage camera collectors.

I didn't give a massive amount of thought to just what camera would constitute the "620 section" of my collection, other than to determine that I likely wanted to skip folding cameras, since I had plenty in 120. Instead, I wanted to get a camera that was essentially made only in 620, and initially figured I might pick up what just might constitute the "trademark" 620 camera: the Brownie Hawkeye. It was a neat looking camera that clearly echoed its mid-century origins, but there was one ethical problem I had with it, it was a Kodak product, the very Kodak whose "innovation" led to the creation of this rediculous format of 620 in the first place. Conundrum again.

Sure, I had a number of Kodak cameras that I savored, and obviously, my pickup of a used Hawkeye wasn't sending money into Eastman Kodak's pockets, so there would be no deposit that would signal that I was OK with Kodak making a bogus new format, given that this happened over half a century ago, and 620 had since bowed out with 120 remaining. But the hapless rebel in me still resisted a Kodak 620 pickup, and kept my eyes open for something else unique to 620.

As it turns out, I wouldn't have to look for long, as I soon spotted the perfect 620 pickup, made by none other than Argus.

While bearing some resemblance to a TLR, the basic operation of the Argoflex Forty is a bit more similar to a box camera. 

Baby Billy: The Agfa Billy 0

And this is why the resistance was futile!  Finally, a "prequel" to my Boxy Beasts of 127 article to explain how I finally adopted the 127 film format. 

From all perspectives, it was my "final frontier" of the world of roll film.  I'd dived back into 120 film and had finally conceded to add 135 film back into my stable of adopted film formats.  Later, I would come to willingly work with the potential for bigger negatives by using 116 and 122 film, and finally (or so it seemed), I had worked out the gremlins that would allow me to readily and easily use a modified 120 film to stock an increasing brigade of 828 cameras. But there was one other roll film format that I'd been hesitant to touch, despite it having a wealth of both quirk and interesting history - 127.

In fact, as I took inventory of the various film formats in the earliest days of this blog, I even noted specifically "You'd think a niche like this would be perfect for a quirky guy with a camera, but I've never really been swayed by the lure." Even as I got comfy with 828 (particularly "making" the film stock), I couldn't picture adopting the curiousness that was 127 format.  It didn't help that even when I entertained the idea of trying out the format, the cameras I would typically see available for sale either had disappointingly dumbed down feature sets or exorbitantly expensive "collector" price tags.  While it was hardly a priority with me, I did keep the idea of a 127 acquisition in my occasional sights provided I could find a decently featured camera available at a reasonable price.  And if said camera took advantage of the largest 127 format of 6.5 x 4.0 cm, it would really offer an incentive to give 127 a try.

Unexpectedly, two such cameras came into my sights. One was an Ansco Vest Pocket with a folding strut mechanism that began to make me think I had found my gateway into 127. Further browsing however would help me truly find a 127 camera perfect for me: the gorgeous Agfa Billy 0. 

In my humble opinion, one of the loveliest folding cameras there ever was - The Agfa Billy 0

The World's Longest Roll of 127 Film

There are times in one's life when seemingly small gestures result in meaningful changes to one's routine that were neither expected nor intended.  For me, it all started with a roll of film.

This was not just any roll of film, but a gift of sorts: an ordinary roll of long-expired 220 Kodak Tri-X shared with me as part of a film windfall by Mike Eckman.  And this was a roll, that when I got it, I had no idea what I would ever do with it, given that I didn't have a 220 camera in which to use it.

But Mike had a few rolls of this film too, and also had no official 220 camera in which to load it, yet he had an interesting idea that made perfect sense, essentially to load the 220 film (which lacks any backing like 120) into a 620 camera with an automatically measured advance (lacking the need to peer through a red window to scroll to the next frame) and reset the counter halfway through to make use of the full roll.

I had considered doing something similar in the Yashica 12 or Seagull since they had similar arrangements, but before I ever had the chance to do so, I began getting into the 127 format, and found a lot of interest with the Revere Eye-Matic which also sported a similar  measured film advance and no porthole window to fog film that lacked backing.  And then an idea began to surface, namely to cut down this 220 roll of film to a REALLY long roll of 127 film.  If I was able to do this successfully, I figured I could ferret out 36 shots in 4x4 format from this one roll of 127 film, three time the yield of a standard 127 roll.  Thus, I badged my odd creation as the "World's first roll of 327 film!"

I loaded the Revere in the dark and began my shooting adventure on Easter Sunday of 2016, continuing in the week or so afterward, picking up roadside shots along the old National Road in Maryland, in Downtown Washington DC, and as well as near the Monocacy National Battlefield, giving the Revere a great chance to strut its oft overlooked stuff.  Once I had run the full length of the roll, I quickly sealed up the exposed roll in a light-tight canister and sent it off along with a few others to my favorite lab to give them "the honor" of developing this groundbreaking roll of film.  

But here's where that "meaningful changes" part comes into play.  A few days later, I got an email from the lab asking for some guidance. They had tried several times to load my special roll of 127 onto the reels with no success.  It seems that when I cut it, I slit the film too narrow to fit into the preset reels.  They could send it to a dip and dunk lab or send it back. After a little bit of thought, I chose the latter.  This was just the impetus I needed to perform an even more meaningful experiment: developing my own black and white film.

I'd done some degree of film developing 25 years ago, but most of my darkroom experiments were largely more geared towards printing.  Still, I recalled the general work flow of film developing and thought I could handle it.  But I would need a few things to get this experiment underway.

I decided that a bottle of New 55's R5 Monobath would make the ideal gateway back into the world of the darkroom.  I combined this with a second hand VR developing tank with an adjustable reel (that I could squeeze down to a width a bit narrower than 127) as well as a few other items such as clips, thermometer, and some mixing containers.  It was now time to get off the ground and give it a try.

Loading the film reels was a royal pain, and I eventually had to concede and split the super long roll of 127 in two.  Thus, my hope of a really long roll of 36 continuous 127 exposures as a cover shot for this article was dashed.  The good news is that the experiment worked...well mostly.  The film didn't always sit on the reel right, and I was very rusty about loading it.  As such, some of the film came into contact with adjacent film in the reel, keeping it from developing properly.  Then there is the matter of the exposures themselves.

The Revere seems to be an interesting beast - sometimes it takes flawless photos, and sometimes, it just doesn't seem to have the proper registration.  Add in a film that lacks a paper backing, and things just get a little, well weird.  Just how you may ask.  Tour the results of this loooooong roll of 127 yourself, and you shall see!

The super long roll of negatives was supposed to be the cover shot for this article, but since the roll was split before developing, that never happened.  Instead, I present the first exposure of this roll of "327" film.

Fun with Film: Vari Interesting, Varicath Vari•X from Labeauratoire

Experimentation can be a wonderful thing in the world of film photography.  Were it not for such experimentation of decades and centuries ago, the hobby itself would not even exist.  

I've been in something of an experimental phase as of late, and while I'm not quite to the point of making my own film yet (though I've admittedly considered it) or doing wet plate prints or the like, I have been finding more interest in black and white photography using "unconventional" films that may render a slightly more vintage or distressed look.

I did some browsing at Lance Rothstein's Labeauratoire, and discovered a number of such films that could facilitate this hunger, and tried out a few.  One of these, which I was admittedly on the fence about getting until moments before check out was a film called Vari•X, a low speed film that was originally intended for cineradiography use, but which was purported to give a particularly great look for photographic applications.  I inevitably took the plunge, and loaded the film into a late 1950's Kodak Retinette to see just what it could accomplish.

The results that came back after processing were decidedly delightful.  A bit of staining marked the images at random points, while the top and bottom borders had a pleasing vintage vignetting to them. The rendition and contrast were particularly snappy and grain was quite fine yet struck a great balance of tonality.  The low speed allowing for limited depth of field helped round out the look of the images.

Below are a number of my results from this fun film.  It should go without saying that I am picking up some more of this fun film!

 I started out my photographic journey with this film on the Battlefields of Antietam near Sharpsburg, MD.  The film immediately impressed me on its return with its rich and striking tonality.

Film Fun Folio #25: Seagull 4A103 and Expired Agfa Ultra 50

Periodically, I'll be posting scans of some complete rolls of film on here, showing both the good and the bad, and giving some basic information as well a little write up of the shoot as well as the reasons why I selected each camera and film.  Enjoy the trip! 

Feature #25:

Camera: ca. 1992 Seagull 4A-103 TLR Camera.

Film: Agfa Ultra 50 (expired 2002)

Locale: Central Maryland and Washington DC.

Color negative films really are not my thing.  Compared to color transparencies, I find their rendition to generally be quite anemic, their white balance often looking a touch sickly, and their contrast level just unrealistic compared to the dynamic world at large.

Getting back into film, I had read people posting comments online referring to Kodak Ektar 100 as "the Fuji Velvia of Color Negative Films." Well, my friends, I have tried many rolls of Ektar and while it is certainly nicer than the Kodak Gold of olden days, it certainly seems a far cry from Velvia.  

But there WAS a print film worthy of that splashy moniker, and it was not made by Kodak, nor was it even made by Fuji.  This film was a product of none other than Agfa, named "Ultra 50" and it was an incredible product.  It, along with its less saturated sibling "Portrait 160," constituted the only color negative films that I ever loved.

Sadly, Ultra 50 is no longer made, but its dwindling expired stocks can still be acquired at a rather sizable premium.  I recently elected to snag a roll of 120 stock that had expired in 2002, and elected to see if it was still any good.  I loaded it into my long-owned Seagull (which almost certainly saw a roll or two of this film decades ago) and rated most of the shots at about ISO 25 to account for expected loss in sensitivity.  Still I worried about how the color in this vivid film might portray after all this time.

Well, let's just say the old film still has that special something.  See for yourself!

1 - Washington, DC - f/4 - 1/300 - I elected to do a little bit of deliberately shallow depth of field on some of the shots since I had a TLR to assist in focusing, and the results were generally pleasing.  What is really pleasing is the color rendition on the Ultra 50! 

Bantam Bridgade: The Prince (Bantam RF) and the Pauper (Bantam f/8)

Every once in a while, good deeds are met with unexpected and unsolicited rewards.

I'd been collaborating with fellow collector/shooter/web documenter Mike Eckman to whom I'd sent some surplus and cut down 828 film, and who knew me as quite the 828 format enthusiast. I'd raved in great length about how much I had come to love my Bantam and similar Bantam Flash camera, mostly with the interest of encouraging him to make use of an 828 camera he had picked up a while back, and secondarily, encouraging him when he considered adding a very affordable addition to his 828 collection.

Still, imagine my surprise when he told me "Keep an eye out, as I have a package I'm mailing to you."  I didn't know what to expect, and thought maybe he'd stumbled upon a stock pile of 828 spools to enable more cut downs.  Well, indeed he had stumbled upon some spools that he was sending to me.  And to keep those spools safe, he enclosed them within A PAIR of Bantam cameras he had recently acquired, both for about a dollar.  He simply asked me to hang onto the spools in case he wanted more created 828 film sent to him, but that the cameras were mine.  And with that, I now had a Bantam Brigade at my disposal.

Film Fun Folio #23 - Balda HaPo 10 and (LONG!) Expired Verichrome Pan

Periodically, I'll be posting scans of some complete rolls of film on here, showing both the good and the bad, and giving some basic information as well a little write up of the shoot as well as the reasons why I selected each camera and film.  Enjoy the trip! 

Feature #23:

Camera: ca. 1938 Balda Hapo 10 with 105mm Steinheil Munchen f/3.8 lens.

Film: Kodak Verichrome Pan (Expired 1962)

Locale: Central Maryland and Washington DC.

It's always the ones you have the highest hopes for that let you down.  When I pulled the trigger on the Hapo 10, enamored with its looks, I hoped this would be a great addition to my 6x9 cameras.  I ultimately was underwhelmed after three rolls of film through this camera failed to really give much in the way of good results.

However, after experiments using old Verichrome Pan gave me surprisingly good, if somewhat vintage looking results, I thought it might be time to give the old Hapo one more try.  It's slow performing shutter seemed a good fit for a long expired film that needed over exposure.  I hoped I could get at least a suitable result or two from this old camera that had been sitting for nearly a year, or at least I could play on the seeming flaws of the Hapo and create a roll of very distressed shots done just for fun.  

The first two shots were immediately blown, to no fault of the Hapo.  When I loaded up the film, I should have done an initial re-taping of this 50 year old film to its backing paper in the dark prior to loading. Sure enough the tightly curled film separated from the backing and as a result, I lost the first exposures.  I could only hope the remaining six chances were enough to get something good from this pretty, but pretty disappointing camera.  Note: Keep in mind the "settings" here are what was on the camera, but this camera is known to have a slow shutter, so they are likely to be about half as fast as what is indicated for these images.  

A---------------------------------------B--------------------------------------------C---------------D

3 - Monrovia, MD - f/4.5, 1/100 -  Interestingly, what would pretty much turn out to be the most disappointing shot on the roll would also serve as the most informative,  I should have really backed further up to get this ramshackle old house along the road, for a better result, but looking at the image, something is apparent: the area between B and C above is fairly sharp, while the areas outside of this tend to be blurred.  I had never noticed this tendency before on previous rolls, and by sheer coincidence, the rest of the roll would tend to have its subjects in this area of the frame.