Shutterfinger

A Visit to YO Darkroom

Despite the unassuming exterior, there's a fine darkroom and a lot of great people behind these doors.

Who in their right mind would open a rental darkroom in today's digital age? No one shoots film anymore right? As for film and paper processing, that's for beard-wearing geezers with developer-stained fingers. These guys already have a darkroom at home, along with every book Ansel Adams ever wrote.

Apparently, a team of entrepreneurs in Philadelphia apparently didn't get the memo. They opened YO Darkroom (short for "Your Own Darkroom") a little over a year ago. Aside from renting time in their well-equipped photo lab, they also run a gallery, sponsor classes and hold events.

It helps that they're located in the heart of Philadelphia, a dense urban area that's easy to navigate by foot or bike, with good public transportation and packed with college students and young professionals. Their prices are reasonable and class topics range from photograms to screen printing.

The secret to their success, however, is community. Photographers and other artsy types like having a place where they can hang out and associate with like-minded folks. It's especially appealing to a guy like me, who lives in the 'burbs, works from home, and doesn't get out as much as he'd like.

I'm mentioning all this because there may be something akin to a YO Darkroom in your own city, town or neighborhood. If so, why not pay it a visit? They could use your support. If not, maybe someone like you could open one. Virtual communities are flourishing; why not real ones?

Six Tips for How To Win a Photo Contest

This photo won first prize in the candid/humor category of Popular Photography's 9th Annual International Photo Contest. It was also featured on the cover. I'd like to think it was because I followed my own advice, listed below.

Search the web and you'll find plenty of tips for how to win photo contests. Most of what you'll see will be a lot like this. It's generally good advice, but let's face it: If someone has to tell you that your entries should be correctly exposed, in focus, well packaged and neatly presented, your odds of winning even so much as an honorable mention are slim-to-none.

I can't guarantee you a win, of course, but as one who has won several contests--most recently, Pop Photo's 9th Annual International Picture Contest--I can speak with some knowledge of what it takes. Here, in no particular order, is what I suggest:

1. Submit photos that are positive and non-confrontational. Your selenium-toned, B&W prints of cadavers and embalmed body parts may have great artistic merit, but they're not likely to score points with mainstream judges--or mainstream audiences, for that matter. Contests sponsored by edgy art magazines or photo galleries are the obvious exception.
2. Look for images that tell a story or that project a clear idea or emotion. If judges can't immediately grasp what a photo is about in a few seconds, they'll simply toss it aside and keep looking. Remember: You won't be there to explain or answer questions. The image has to stand on its own.
3. Photo that feature water, snow, sunsets and beaches are perennial favorites, as are shots that feature animal or insect behavior. That said, unless the contest is for a family or kid-oriented publication, avoid sending in photos that are overly cute, sentimental or kitschy.
   
4. Play to your strengths. If you're good at street photography and it's a travel photo contest, enter street photos you shot in foreign lands. Another option is to seek out contests that are looking for examples of what you do best.
5. Regardless of the subject matter, ask yourself what sets your submissions apart from photos of similar subjects. Is it the lighting, the composition, the color (or lack of it), the technique? Your goal is not to send in something that's "just as good as the rest," but distinctly better.
6. Go easy on the effects. As tempting as it is to make a photo stand out by using Photoshop to pump up the saturation, boost the dynamic range, or create fantastic scenes, avoid using effects that call undue attention to themselves. Judges want to be captivated by the image itself, not by what you did to it.

Here's one last observation (and since it's an "observation," I don't have to put it up there with the "tips"): You may discover that entering contests is almost as much fun as winning. You get to sort through your best photos, re-live and re-think your motivations for taking them, select the best of the best, send them off and hope someone else thinks as much of them as you do. If they don't, it's nothing personal, try again another time; if they do, it's exhilarating, even if first prize is a P&S digicam you'll sell the next day on eBay. In the end, it's a lot like the lottery: You can't win if you don't enter.

Theory vs. Reality

How sharp is sharp enough? Sharp as a thorn? Sharp as a tack? Pin sharp? I say if it looks sharp, then it is.

Around three weeks ago, Dave Etchells of SLRGear.com published an article titled "Focus Falibility: Lens Test Fallacies." I'd link you directly to the article, but it's a Javascript page. Click the link above and you should be able to find it easily enough. Anyway, the basic point of Dave's article is that for any given lens it can be extremely hard to determine the point of exact focus and thus the point of maximum resolution. To take it one step further, Dave claims that the chances of either you or your camera being able to determine the point of exact focus are slim to none. A bit unnerving, eh?

Read carefully, however, and you'll discover that, according to Dave, the visual difference between "exact" and "pretty damn close" is barely detectable, especially in the center. The edges of the frame are a different story: Minuscule differences in focus can make a major difference in corner resolution. So does this mean you should look for lenses with the flatest field possible?

Personally, what I get from all this is that while exact focus can make a big difference in how well a lens performs in a test, it makes a questionable difference in real world photographs. After all, most photos are of three-dimensional objects, not two-dimensional test charts. Tests are done with the camera mounted to a tripod or optical bench. Real photos are often taken hand-held. Test results are inspected at resolutions equaling a 20x30-inch print. Real photos are often printed no larger than 8x10 inches.

Does this mean I think lens tests are worthless? Not at all. What I do think is that we should concern ourselves more with a lens' actual performance than its theoretical performance. If it does what you need it to do, then that's all that really matters. Another lens might theoretically be better, but then, we might theoretically be a lot better photographers than we actually are, right?

Is This Progress?

I recently spent a few hours browsing through my archive of black and white prints. The great majority were printed in a darkroom, with an enlarger, trays, and chemicals. That all changed about four years, when I changed over to digital. I still shoot and process film from time to time, just to keep in practice, but when I print, I print with an inkjet printer--an Epson Style Photo R800 to be precise. It's fine for color prints; for black and white, not so much. The results are so sucky compared to my old silver-based stuff that I get depressed and go back to printing color.

I was under no illusions about the R800 being a great black and white printer when I bought it. It was simply the best I could afford at the time. I'm reasonably sure that my problem can be solved by dropping $600-800 on a new printer. Some would move the minimum higher, to at least $1200. It's a moot point though, but I can't afford either option. Or let's put it this way: I could afford it, but would prefer to keep my children clothed and fed. Fatherhood has a way of warping one's priorities.

Anyway--and this is the real subject of my rant--the real cost isn't the printer, it's the consumables. If I use the printer much at all, I'll end up spending more on ink and paper than the printer itself. Is it really worth paying a minimum of $1000 just to get a few dozen "exhibition worthy" prints? If you think so, I'd love to know why.