Saturday, 19 June 2021

126 Day June 2021

Kodak Instamatic 277X with Ilford FP4
By a quirk of Kodak's practice of re-using its obsolete format codes when designating the new easy-load drop-in plastic cartridge, calendrically, 126 Day follows on immediately from 116 Day in June. I'd picked up a 126 cartridge of Ilford FP4, with a develop before date of February 1974, which I shot on the day; I hadn't reloaded any cartridges with 35mm film as I had done on previous years, so had just 12 exposures in the FP4 cartridge. Having used quite a fair bit of FP4 film from the 1970s, I was fairly confident that I'd be able to get acceptable results from the film, and, as with the Verichrome Pan on the previous day, I didn't bracket any of the exposures.

Ilford FP4 126 cartridge
For the camera, I used the Kodak Instamatic 277X that I've used previously, for the fact that it's got a wider range of adjustable apertures than most Instamatics. With only weather symbols to indicate the aperture settings, using the five-decades-old film, I compensated by generally choosing a setting two symbols wider (or darker) than the conditions indicated: for example, with a subject in bright sun, I set the aperture to the 'light cloud' pictogram, which worked well enough apart from a few frames in relatively deep shadow. In terms of subjects, with more time than the 116 Day before it, I simply followed a cycle route around my local area, one of the loops I'd found for my allowed exercise during the first lockdown last year, and indeed, this was some of the same route I'd taken on 116 Day in 2020.

Developing the film, I used the standard time and temperature for modern FP4 Plus, 15 minutes in Ars-Imago #9 diluted 1+50 at 20ÂșC with normal agitation. I had intended to re-use the plastic cartridge (in part due to the late 1960s/early 70s 'sunburst' Ilford symbol on the label), but even after repeated scoring with a knife, this proved too difficult to take apart cleanly, and it broke in the changing bag while attempting to do this. The spool and attached 126 backing paper were salvaged in the process however: when re-used with 35mm the backing paper can end up getting somewhat ragged after a few rolls. As an aside, on the leaflet which came in the box with the film, there are instructions for home processing, with a pair of illustrations on how to break open the cartridge (figures 1-3 on the first side of the leaflet show loading, advancing the film, and unloading).


Scanning the negatives, it was clear that the emulsion had reacted to the backing paper–this showed up nicely in the rebate at the lower edge of the film where the shape of the long hole with its rounded ends is imprinted into the film (this doesn't match up with the single perforation for each frame as it's where the emulsion has been in contact with the back of the backing paper while rolled together). This reaction has caused a certain amount of mottling across the film, but, with enough exposure, in some frames it's hardly visible and only really shows in larger areas of smooth tones, such as the sky. The pre-exposed 126 frames also vary: on denser negatives, these begin to disappear; on thinner negatives, or with larger areas of shadow, these frames are much clearer. I chose not to crop the scans of the film, instead showing the whole width of the film, pre-exposed frames, perforations, rebate and frame numbers, and the overlapping edges of each exposure: the frame below shows all of these, the mottling and the backing paper hole too.


Last year, I'd shot a cartridge of 126 Verichrome Pan, and had used a yellow filter for the entire roll; many of the shots this year would have benefitted from the same, as the conditions were sunny and a number of frames had areas of sky with some light fair weather clouds; potentially a yellow filter might also have lightened the tones in some of the foliage, something I didn't consider until part of the way into the film, having left home without thinking I might need a filter. The other error I made was in not ensuring that the flap of the plastic every-ready case was always entirely clear of the lens, having it intrude into the bottom part of the image in a couple of frames.


Comparing these frames with those on Verichrome Pan from last year also brought up something which seems like a oddity in the manufacture of these 126 films: the pre-exposed frame lines do not appear to be a single exposure all around the nearly-square image, but an operation performed in (at least) two steps. The exposures for the horizontal and vertical frame lines clearly overlap; the horizontal lines at the top and bottom edges of the frames look continuous for the whole length of the film, while the vertical frame lines extend from the top edge of the film but do not entirely meet the lower edge of the bottom horizontal frame line, stopping a little short. I did reflect that possibly the exposure of the vertical frame lines could have been linked to a stepping motion at the same time as the exposure of the frame numbers, with an ascending counter linked to the position of the perforation hole. This is relatively easy to discern in the image below, one of the frames that has a lot of shadow areas around the edges. Last year's cartridge of Verichrome Pan shows the same overlapping pre-exposed horizontal and vertical lines. 


Overall, the FP4 came out reasonably well considering its age, some frames did need more exposure, and some carelessness on my part notwithstanding with the camera case, as well as overlooking using a filter. Thirty-odd years ago, had I dropped the cartridge into Boots for processing (as I did when first photographing with a handed-down Instamatic) I'd no doubt have received my twelve square prints with a sprinkling of advice stickers on them.

Thursday, 17 June 2021

116 Day June 2021

Zeiss Ikon Cocarette 519/15 with Kodak Verichrome Pan
Having not taken many photographs recently and having posted even less, last Friday, 11th June, was my prompt to shoot a roll of film in my Zeiss Ikon Cocarette 519/15 for '116 Day'. I had intentions of shooting more, but I'd been working all day on the day itself, so only went out in the early evening, which had become overcast, and took a walk, following a route familiar from earlier in the year, my allowed daily exercise during lockdown and recovery. I shot a roll of Verichrome Pan, usually quite reliable for a fairly out-of-date film, and with no new film in the 116 format for decades, expired film is the only alternative to some form of conversion to use 120 medium format film or rolling film (120 or 65mm) with 116 backing paper; using an expired roll of 116 provides a spool and backing paper in order to be able to do this.

The Verichrome Pan had a 'develop before' date of June 1972, and I rated it at 24 against its original speed of 125 ISO. As a result, I took all the photographs using a tripod, with speeds varying from 1/5th through to 6 seconds; although I could have used smaller apertures and longer exposures, the camera did not feel especially sturdy on the tripod I was using and there was a bit of wind when I was taking the photographs to contend with too.

Kodak Verichrome Pan, process before date of June 1972
I stand developed the film in Ars-Imago #9, diluted 1+100, a developer replicating the original Agfa Rodinal formula (earlier in the year, when I bought this developer, it seemed very hard to find Rodinal in the UK, and I did wonder whether this might have been due to the UK leaving the EU, given that all the versions of Rodinal I've used come from manufacturers in the EU: Adox Rodinal/Adonal, Compard R09 One Shot, Fomadon R09). In terms of exposure, the results were acceptable enough in the main: with only eight frames on the roll, I didn't want to bracket any shots; I had one accidental light leak due to not properly aligning the shutter to the T setting and the shutter didn't close properly. There were some scratches on most frames, more prominent in some than others. On a couple, the focus was off, a problem I've realised that the Cocarette suffers from. I've ascertained that infinity is closer to the 30ft mark on the focus lever than the infinity stop, and I've assumed that each focus mark was offset the same, although I haven't properly checked this with measuring each focus mark. Focus issues besides, six frames felt worth posting; perhaps the best shot from the roll is the one at the top of this post, the last frame on the roll, just as the clouds began to lift.






Sunday, 25 April 2021

#FP4Party April 2021

Two years ago, less a couple of months, for the #FP4Party in February 2019, I used my Ensign Folding Klito de Luxe No.9 with some old Ilford FP4 sheet film in quarterplate size; two boxes of this had come as part of a larger job lo: both were unopened boxes of 50 sheets each, both with the handwritten date of 16/11/78. I'd used film from this stock for the January and March #FP4Parties in 2019 too, in different cameras; for April 2021's #FP4Party, when considering what format to use, I saw that I had seven sheets of the last box of this film left, assuming I'd tallied my usage correctly. Thus, I decided to simply shoot one sheet a day for each day of shoot week, and the choice of camera had to be the Ensign Folding Klito de Luxe No.9 as it's the best of the three quarterplate-sized cameras I have. In 2019, in the three successive months, I'd shot two sheets a day, hopefully providing a 'good' and a 'spare'; with only seven sheets left this was not a luxury I could allow myself. In the event, I did accidentally use two sheets on one day, a result of unclear labelling of my plateholders. 

Although I was exposing just one sheet of FP4 each day, I also photographed each subject on other film stocks, some Ilford F.P.3 from the 1940s, and Ilford Fine Grain Ordinary N5.31 film (this box has a handwritten date of 11/3/70): without thinking, I picked up a second plateholder when photographing on the Friday, thinking it was the latter film when instead it was a second sheet of the FP4. In order to shoot FP4 film each day of the shoot week with two days to go and only one sheet of quarterplate-size FP4, I then cut down some larger FP4 Plus film to fit the format. Having made a jig that I taped to a cutting mat to cut the film to size inside a changing bag, I found this more difficult than expected. I tried to cut some 9x12cm film to quarterplate size–8.2x10.8cm–but found it was far too easy for the film to move around while changing from a cut in one orientation to the second cut in the other. After spoiling one sheet of 9x12cm FP4 Plus, and badly cutting another, I then cut down a sheet of 5x4-inch FP4 Plus. For this I only made one cut, going from 5 inches to 3¼ inches; quarterplate film measures 4¼ by 3¼ inches, but for ease of cutting down film to use in the Klito, 4 inches by 3¼ would have to do.

Part way through shoot week, I developed the first four sheets, partly as I didn't have enough spare film sheathes to load seven plateholders at the start of the week. This was also instructive: I had overestimated the bellows factor on the sheets already exposed, resulting in dense negatives, especially Thursday's; as a result, on Friday and Saturday I didn't compensate in exposure for bellows factor, and the negatives developed fine (Saturday's shot was taken on the cut-down 5x4, rated the same as the FP4 from the 1970s, although its process before date was only April 2010). As a consequence of simply being at home throughout the week, almost all the photographs were of close-focus subjects around the house and garden (such subjects needing to compensate for bellows factor–or not as the case seemed to be). The weather was almost uniformly sunny, with the brief exception of showers on the Saturday afternoon, which I tried to record somewhat obliquely.

The first shot of the week I'd hoped to have been better, but there was too much of a breeze to use an exposure time of 1/5th and expect the subject to be sharp; Sunday's subject, the last sheet of the 100, I chose the tree outside my window which I had been photographing for an entire year, and had indeed only recently finished that project, but wanted to record its new growth after being heavily pruned in the autumn. This shot suffered from a light leak which I think may have been due to mixing up darkslides and plateholders: some of the plateholders which fit the Klito camera are branded Klito; some are AP Paris; and others are unbranded, and, although very close in all respects, it's easy to mix up the darkslides and then find some are a better fit than others. 
 
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Friday, 9 April 2021

Camerascope Stereo Viewer

Camerascope stereo viewer with London Zoo stereo cards

Following last week's post on the Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck, I pulled out from the back of a drawer an old folding stereo viewer I'd picked up somewhere many years ago on the vague notion that contact prints from the Stereo Puck negatives might fit. When I was growing up, the View-Master was a not-uncommon novelty encountered at friends' houses, although we never had one at home; ubiquitous and manufactured for decades, the View-Master perhaps became the mental archetype for a portable stereo viewer in the second half of the twentieth century. It was one such system among many, and its success no doubt depended in part on the technology of the colour transparency on film which emerged towards the end of the 1930s. There had been a number of colour photographic systems before Kodachrome, such as the Autochrome and Dufaycolor, but these would not have been able to resolve fine enough detail on the miniature scale that the View-Master took advantage of in producing a format that used a revolving disc, known as a reel, containing seven stereo pairs that can be seen in sequence before the reel returns to the first image and can be changed.

Camerascope stereo viewer folded

The Camerascope has little of the View-Master's technical sophistication: it feels as though it belongs to an earlier era. Online references date it to 1927, not separated by too great a period of time from the View-Master–only a decade or so–but it represents the application of very different technology The View-Master's use of plastic and Kodachrome appears to usher in a colourful mid-century modernity. In contrast, the Camerscope viewer is made from pressed and stamped metal with a craquelure paint effect on front and back, and the cards which came with my viewer, black and white, are photographic prints, almost certainly made from duplicate negatives by contact (rather than photo-lithography for example). The Camerascope does at least possess some flexibility in the format of stereo cards which fit the viewer. The London Zoo stereo cards which came with it are 2¾ x 4¼ inches (approximately 10.7x7cm). These fit in a slot across the whole width of the back of the viewer. It also takes single-image cards, one card for each side of the stereo pair in two different sizes, 1⅜ or 2 inch wide (approximately 3.7cm or 5cm wide) that fit in slots either in front or behind the two rectangular openings in the back, the smaller width cards fitting behind these apertures, the larger in front. (It's also possible that a fourth size may fit the viewer, double-image cards that use the two outside slots of the larger single-image cards for each edge). 

Camerascope stereo viewer showing slots for different card formats

It was the smaller of these fittings that I thought would be the right size for contact prints of the Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck negatives. These are designed for cigarette cards: there's a good article in Stereo World from May/June 1990 (available online) by John Bradley, which briefly places the stereo cigarette card amongst other novelty cards before detailing the cigarette card series that came with Cavanders Army Club cigarettes produced for viewing in the Camerascope. The full list of cigarette card series from the article runs thus: 
Black & White Series 
Peeps in to Many Lands, A Series, 1927, 36 pairs, small 
Peeps in to Many Lands, A Series, 1927, 36 pairs, medium
Peeps in to Many Lands, A Series, 1927, 36 cards, large 
Peeps in to Many Lands, 2nd Series, 1928, 36 pairs, small 
Peeps in to Many Lands, 2nd Series, 1928, 36 pairs, medium 
Peeps in to Many Lands, 3rd Series, 1929, 24 pairs, small 
Peeps in to Many Lands, 3rd Series, 1929, 24 pairs, medium 
Peeps in to Prehistoric Times, 4th Series, 1930, 24 pairs, small 
Peeps in to Prehistoric Times, 4th Series, 1930, 24 pairs, medium 
Colour Series 
Glorious Britain, 1930, 25 pairs, medium 
Coloured Sterescopic [sic], 1931, 25 pairs, medium 

The article also mentions that the "small cards were always issued as separate "left" and "right" images, as were most of the medium sized black and white cards, while the coloured series are more often found as joined pairs of views. In the case of the large series they contained both images on one single card." As "most" medium sized black and white cards were separate left and right pairs, it suggests some were not, and both colour series are medium, this suggests the fourth size I described above, 'medium' double-image cards. Not having any of the cigarette cards myself, this is speculation based on the descriptions; the London Zoo stereo cards which came with my viewer are not part of the cigarette card series issued by Cavanders: these cards have a very small logo, almost too small to be read by the naked eye, 'Sunbeam Tours'. The Army Club cigarette cards have instructions for viewing on one card from the pair and the offer that "A 5s Camerascope will be supplied post free for 1/– in Great Britain (other countries at different prices"; presumably Sunbeam Tours sold the Camerascope and its cards at tourist attractions such as London Zoo (the entry on Early Photography for the Camerascope has exactly the same set of London Zoo cards that my viewer came with). 

To make cards from the Stereo Puck negatives, I took the cheap and quick method of using Silverprint's 'Solar Paper', essentially a form of pre-prepared cyanotype paper, and contacted some of the best negatives; after the paper was dry I mounted these on card, finding that the width was a little wider that the small single-image card slots, thus losing a little of the image each side, but the height fitted perfectly, with the exception that as the images from the Stereo Puck are not very well aligned vertically, I had to shift the right-hand card a few millimetres up in its slot. I also discovered that the stereo pairs needed to be swapped around: the right hand image from the contact print needed to be in the left hand slot on vice-versa. This initially surprised me: I had thought that in a straight contact from the negative of the stereo pair, these would be the correct way around for viewing (when making the anaglyphs on last week's post, I had instinctively used the right-hand image in the red channel, so did not consciously think about which side was which). Needing to swap the left and right contact prints must be a result of how the images are actually reversed when projected by the lenses inside the camera: for correct orientation, negatives are viewed through the base of the film. One of the images illustrating the page on the Stereo Puck on Camera-Wiki shows both the viewer that was sold with the camera–a folding metal viewer not entirely dissimilar to the Camerascope–as well as stereo cards for it, which are quite clearly two separate contact prints mounted on card, with left and right images in the correct positions for viewing. Unmentioned in my post about the Stereo Puck is the small design detail that a metal tab inside the camera in the middle of the frame shows up in the top right and left corners of the negatives: possibly this is there to indicate which image is for which side when printed and separated: as the sides of the pair are swapped around, the right-hand image has this visible in the top right corner, and the left in the left corner, making it clear which side is which when mounting, or, as with the separate cards I've made, which card fits in which side of the stereo viewer.

Scan of negatives from the Stereo Puck, showing the tab between frames,
visible at top centre

For all this effort in making the contact prints to view them in the Camerascope viewer, the experience was underwhelming: given the lighting conditions when I shot the negatives, the fact these are fairly low in contrast does not make for good contact prints in the method I used and the surface quality of the paper itself disrupted the image when magnified (it would have been far better to have used photographic paper, both for the detail and the ability to control contrast; there is also the issue of the narrow lens separation in the Stereo Puck too). However, the best negatives did yield acceptable results, when seen in good light, allowing for all the compromises of the Stereo Puck camera, the conditions in which I shot the recent couple of rolls of film with it, and the method of making the prints.

Camerascope viewer with stereo card made from Silverprint Solar Paper

Sources/further reading:
Camerascope Viewer on Early Photography
Camerascope on Viewmaster.co.uk (also see pages on the View-Master itself)
Stereo World May/June 1990

Friday, 2 April 2021

Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck

Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck
"It is often said in praise of a particularly good print that it is “almost stereoscopic.’’ With the Stereo Puck every good exposure is given full stereoscopic effect by dual lenses—and the cost of the outfit is now within everyone's reach." 
Thornton-Pickard advertisment
"...the New Wonder Camera The STEREO PUCK MAKES YOUR PICTURES LIVE"
Thornton-Pickard advertisment, BJP Almanac 1932
The prominent legend announcing the fact of the Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck being "British Made" on the front plate above its lenses, much clearer than the faintly embossed name itself beneath them, brings to mind a scene from the sitcom The I.T. Crowd: in attempting to fight a fire, the character Moss points an extinguisher towards the fire, which promptly bursts into flame itself. Asking "Why's it done that?", Moss looks intently at the extinguisher, and there's a cut to a close up of a label: "Made in Britain", which provokes a knowing sigh from Moss. Intended, on the Stereo Puck, one imagines, to imply a mark of quality, this "British Made" assertion (as indeed for many a product) is at the very least an injunction for the consumer to patriotically 'buy British'. Something about this–the injunction and its instinctive reaction, as exemplified by Moss's sigh–as a general attitude, has an undercurrent of anxiety, of Britain's contemporary place in the world in relation to its long history, a history here of manufacture, but, by broader implication, its imperial history, a notion of a once-held 'greatness' (such a notion untroubled by any deeper examination), although Britain never seriously challenged the German, and then later, Japanese camera industries, and the Stereo Puck, "British made", was of course produced many decades ago. The association I've drawn with the example of the scene from The IT Crowd may be, perhaps, an unfair reaction, a knee-jerk attitude that itself needs examining, but in the case of the Stereo Puck, it's not entirely unwarranted.

I've long had an (occasional) interest in stereo photography, and when I saw the Stereo Puck come up in an online auction for not very much, I bought it on a whim; I used the camera for the first time two years ago for 'Take Your Box Camera To Play Day'; the film I shot then came out with scratches running through all the negatives, which was a little disheartening, and it had sat on a shelf since then, awaiting some remedial action. I was prompted to pick it up again by the #filmweekender box camera challenge from Twitter user Jason Avery: with a number of box cameras to choose from, I thought that the Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck was sufficiently niche to warrant using it for this challenge.

Apart from its ability to take stereo pairs, the Stereo Puck is quite typical of the box camera form: it uses 120 medium-format rollfilm (itself introduced for the Kodak No.2 Brownie, the archetypal box camera); it has a fixed-focus simple lens; a single shutter speed; and a small reflecting finder for framing. It's wooden bodied, at a time when many box cameras were being made from metal (and early plastics like Bakelite were beginning to be used; the Stereo Puck's advance knob seems to be made from Bakelite) and the build quality suggests a certain cheapness: as an example, in the image below, the shutter lever on my camera can be seen to be not fixed entirely square-on to the camera body.
Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck - top view

Thornton-Pickard did produce some fairly high quality cameras from the last decades of the nineteenth century, field and studio cameras, and, in particular, their reflex cameras and roller blind shutters. The Stereo Puck dates from the 1930s, by which time the company was in decline: it ceased manufacture in 1939 (it was preceded by the Puck, a more conventional box camera). In one of the advertisements quoted at the top of this post, three models are described, enumerated as the No.1, No.2, and No.3, all of which appear to have been available concurrently (at the time of the advert; when researching the Stereo Puck online, these numbers aren't usually used to differentiate its different variants). Sources online date the first version to around 1930, although the given dates vary. I've also observed that there were two versions of the model described as 'No.1': some show the metal tab in front of the handle which provides three different aperture settings, while some do not and presumably have just the one aperture setting. My version of the Stereo Puck is the No.2 and has the most commonly noted difference: this has the 'portrait' supplementary lenses, filters which swing in front of the lenses, easy to identify from the small lever next to the viewfinder, absent from the No.1. Finally, the advertisement describes the No.3 Stereo Puck, which has the ability to photograph either stereo pairs or single images (it's not clear how this works, and, from images of the camera online, I can't tell what might differentiate the No.3 in external appearance; it would be possible to shoot single images with the other models of the Stereo Puck by using a lens cap on one lens at a time–not easy to do due to the recessed lens fittings, with the 'cap' needing to be more like a plug–and not advancing the film until each side of the pair has been exposed).

The Stereo Puck takes (nominally) 6x4.5cm stereo pairs on medium format film, giving eight pairs on a roll of film; by necessity this image format creates a compromise in that the lens separation is noticeably narrower than that of human binocular vision. This is, apparently, a remarkably consistent physiological trait, with a distance of 6.5cm. Ideally, each lens then would be separated by this same distance to simulate stereo vision, but with the Stereo Puck, the lenses are separated by 4.2cm (I've read other distances online, but measuring my camera gives 4.2cm). There are circumstances in which lenses for stereoscopy would need to differ from that of the human eye, but these would be for extreme distances, both near and far, for microscopy or for imaging at distant ranges (to achieve a stereo image of a distant landscape, for example, it helps to have a much greater lens separation, otherwise both images appear too similar to create the illusion of depth). In the 35mm format, in order to construct a camera with a sufficient lens separation, the images have to be recorded on the film in a discontinuous series (i.e., the stereo pairs are not adjacent on the film), the most common method is to have the frame advance periodically 'jump' already exposed frames on the film, such as with the Stereocrafters Videon, where each pair is separated by two images of subsequent pairs on the film, which means that, as a sequence, after a first exposure, the film advances one frame twice in a row, then has to advance three whole frames to avoid double exposing one half of each stereo pair; other methods include exposing the film diagonally to avoid double exposure, as with the Meopta Stereo 35 and the Sawyers View Master. In medium format, the 6x6 image size is more typically used for stereo cameras as the wider image format means that the lens separation is greater; however, at the time that the Stereo Puck was produced, 120 medium format film only had numbers on the backing paper for the 6x9 frame size, which no doubt accounts for the Stereo Puck's design and use of the 6x4.5 stereo pairs, with the understandable compromise on lens separation (roughly concurrent with the Stereo Puck, the Rolleiflex popularised the 6x6 frame size on 120 film; while the Rolleiflex did not depend on frame numbers printed on the film's backing paper, evidently the format was attractive to manufacturers of cameras and film, and 6x6 frame numbers were introduced for less high-end 6x6 format cameras).

The user controls on the Stereo Puck are simple and limited. The shutter, tripped by a lever on the top right of the body from the user's position, has a single speed, reported between 1/20th-1/50th online, and a 'time' mode, with a small metal tab that pulls out to keep the shutter open until either pushed in or the shutter lever is flipped back to its original position: the shutter lever does not spring back to its original position, and so, like many older box cameras, this lever trips the shutter in either direction (on most single-lens box cameras of course, this lever runs up and down, rather than side-to-side), left-to-right or vice-versa. The lenses are fixed-focus four-inch f12.5 achromats; absent on some 'No.1' Stereo Pucks, there are three aperture settings with a metal tab in front of the handle that pulls out a strip of metal with holes punched behind the lens with click stops to provide smaller apertures. The aperture settings aren't marked, but logically these two smaller apertures are one stop successively smaller than the maximum aperture, giving approximately f18 and f25. The 'portrait' auxiliary close-up filters are hidden behind the front panel and pivot between the lenses. These can be swung in to position using the smaller lever next to the viewfinder. This lever is sprung, so the close-up filters return out of the way behind the front panel as soon as the lever is let go.

Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck opened for loading

Loading the camera, the back is hinged on its leatherette covering; the back is made from wood, like the rest of the camera body, but has a metal outer rim that acts as a light trap with a clasp to secure it to the body. On one side, a curved spring attached to the back acts to provide pressure on the take-up spool. The two strips of felt inside the camera back appear to function as a pressure plate on the film behind the lenses; film advance it by red window using the 6x9 numbers. The supply side spool has a removable metal holder rather than the spring attached to the back; it's hard to see exactly what the design of this achieves, other than perhaps avoiding adding a knob on the supply side to secure the toll of fresh film. There is also a standard trip fitting in the base of the camera, but, for some reason, not centred either side-to-side or front to back.

Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck with supply-side spool holder removed
When I first used the Stereo Puck a couple of years ago, its limitations were apparent. Some of these are an unavoidable part of the design, such as the narrow lens separation, but other issues are a result of the camera's construction, largely due to a lack of care in the manufacturing tolerances of the Stereo Puck. One of the first things I noticed is the disparity between the two sides of the stereo pair: the images are not well aligned in their vertical dimension, and, in addition, the focus on each side is different. These two aspects together might matter less in an inexpensive box camera with a single lens, but with two lenses, especially with a narrow stereo base, a good stereo image would be approved by the focus and alignment being better.

Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck with Ilford HP5 Plus
In the image above, the left hand image is lower than the right; the left hand image also has better focus at the bottom of the frame, with the right hand image better at the top. The disparity in focus can be mitigated a little with using the smaller aperture settings, if lighting conditions allow when using the shutter on 'instant'. When creating stereo anaglyphs, the vertical alignment can easily be overcome simply by lining up the two images better, with a small amount of cropping. The ergonomics of the Stereo Puck take a little getting used to, especially if one is familiar with the more typical box camera form, as the shutter release and close-up filter lever are on top of the camera rather than at the sides; as with many a box camera, the viewfinder is merely an adequate indication of what direction the camera is facing and what might be generally in the centre of the frame.

Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck (close-up filter) with Ilford HP5 Plus at 800
Picking up the Stereo Puck again to use it for the #filmweekender challenge, I carefully rubbed down the rollers at either side of the inside of the camera, which had some spots of corrosion, then polished these in an attempt to prevent the scratches that I had with my first roll of film and which can be clearly seen in the image above. I wasn't entirely successful, but the rather obvious gouges have become thin hairlines, much less obtrusive–in the image above, one has to enlarge it a fair bit to discern these lines. Possibly more polishing might remove these completely. I had a roll of Ilford HP5 Plus, and some Rollei Superpan 200; shooting on the afternoon of the 21st March, the weather was heavily overcast, with the result that I chose to push the HP5 Plus one stop in development, giving an effective exposure index of 800 (as I have remarked before, the idea that one should use a low ISO film in box cameras as these were the films available at the time such cameras were designed only holds true if one uses box cameras in the same way as they would have been used at the time: only taking photographs hand-held outside in bright weather conditions; in addition, possibly tray developing the film by inspection to make up for shortcomings in exposure, and possibly using intensification on the negatives as well). Most of the shots with HP5 Plus were hand-held although I did brace the camera against railings in at least one shot, and some used the close-up filter, supposedly for subjects of 1-3 metres, such as the image above. For comparison, I also took a couple of stereo pairs with and without the close-up filters, as below. Comparing the two pairs, the discrepancy in focus without the close up filter is as described above, with the focus better on the lower part of the left hand frame (although this is also closer to the lens), while focus it better towards the top of the right hand frame. Oddly, the close-up filter appears to reverse this trend, or at least, focus is better closer to the camera on the right, while on the left, the middle distance appears better.

Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck with HP5 Plus at 800 (without close-up filter)
Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck with HP5 Plus at 800 (with close-up filter)
Opening the camera to remove the HP5 Plus, I was faced with something of a 'fat roll', and before loading the camera again, I bent all the springs forward in order to apply more pressure to the film; the HP5 had some light leaks at the edges of the last couple of stereo pairs, but not as bad as I had feared. When using Rollei Superpan, with an ISO of 200, this was too slow to use the camera hand-held; I could have attempted to push the film a couple of stops, but I've found Superpan to have relatively low latitude and pushing the film would be far from ideal. Instead, I used the odd wooden sculptures I had been photographing to place the camera on in lieu of a tripod and use the time setting on the shutter, generally stopping the lens down and exposing for around a second.

Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck with Rollei Superpan (without close-up filter)
Thornton-Pickard Stereo Puck with Rollei Superpan (with close-up filter)
For the last couple of stereo pairs, I had inadvertently pushed in the tab for the shutter, so, without realising it, these were shot on the 'instant' setting, and, as a result, almost nothing registered on the negative. I developed both rolls of film in Rodinal, diluted 1+50 for 19 minutes at 19ÂșC, the time, temperature, and dilution that I'd settled on in my previous testing of Superpan, and close enough to the published times for HP5 Plus at 800 (16 minutes at 20ÂșC).

The Stereo Puck was sold with a stereo viewer, which my camera came without, but for which the negatives from the camera would be contacted for a print to fit the viewer. This should perhaps be also taken into consideration with the camera: at the scale of a contact print, the discrepancy in focus and alignment would be less obtrusive than in a larger print, or indeed a high resolution scan viewed on a screen. Instead of contact prints for physical viewing, I have been making red-cyan anaglyphs from the stereo pairs as the easiest iteration of the images, particularly online, correcting the alignment images while doing so.





One doesn't use a box camera for accuracy and precision, so perhaps the limitations and compromises of the Stereo Puck that I've outlined should be expected and accepted, particularly within its historical context. One imagines that, before the boom in 35mm stereo cameras during the 1950s, it made the taking of stereo photographs an affordable novelty at the time it was produced. For contemporary use, all these factors are hardly likely to make it a stereo camera of choice but, using it again for the #filmweekender challenge, after cleaning it up to prevent it scratching the film, perhaps it shouldn't have sat on a shelf for a couple of years.

Sources/further reading:
Stereo Puck on Camera-Wiki
Stereo Puck on Early Photography
Stereo Puck variants on Red Belllows
Model 1 without close-up filters or aperture stops on Welt Der Stereoskopie
Model 1 on Wood and Brass


Wednesday, 24 March 2021

Expired Film Day 2021

VoigtlÀnder Bessa RF with Ilford HP3
Monday last week was Expired Film Day. Like a number of other film-themed days throughout the year, it's one I tend to observe, and last year's happened to be a little over a week before the pandemic restrictions came in to force in the UK; indeed, the weekend of Expired Film Day 2020 I received notification that my employer was moving to remote working for the foreseeable future. Expired Film Day 2021, on the 15th of March was a week after schools had reopened for face-to-face teaching, but the general stay at home order was still in place in England, but the allowance of daily exercise provided the opportunity to take some photographs while taking a walk around my local area. 

Ilford HP3 roll film, dated June 1965
At Christmas, I'd been given some expired film, two rolls of Kodak Tri-X and one roll of medium format Ilford HP3. This was dated June 1965 on the box, with a leaflet inside with Ilford's date code for November 1961; the date on the box is not prefixed by "develop before" or "process by", so this could just conceivably be the date of manufacture, which I've seen used on glass plates before. It is of course more likely to be a 'develop before' date, which would mean that the film would have probably been manufactured three or four years earlier, making it very close to 60 years old. The felicity of having this roll as a recent, thoughtful present made it a natural choice for the day.

ORWO NP20 refill tin
As well as the medium format HP3, I also shot some 35mm film. This wasn't the Kodak Tri-X though: I wanted to test a few frames from one of the two rolls for exposure and development, something easier to do with 35mm film (the Tri-X weren't in their cartons, so had no 'process before' date, but the style of the metal film canisters looked as though these were also from the 1960s. However, I decided not shoot these as). Instead, I shot a roll of Orwo NP20 film. This had come in a metal tin which contained three lengths of 170cm-long film for reloading 35mm cassettes, complete with ready-cut leaders. Having seen boxes of 35mm Ilford refills in the past, it seems that this was not an uncommon way to buy 35mm film, as opposed to 100ft bulk film, which requires a bulk loader. In contrast, the 35mm refills simply need to be loaded into a reusable cassette in the dark. The Orwo NP20 film had a date of January 1973, and I had already used two of the three refills, so knew a rough exposure index for the film, which I generally rated at 40 (the '20' in the name is its speed in DIN rating, equivalent to 80 ISO). I had also discovered this film to be fogged quite considerably at its top and bottom edges.

Although the day had periodic clear spells, by the time I left the house for my allowed exercise, it was towards the end of the afternoon, and a large, long bank of clouds had moved in, obscuring the setting sun. As a result, the lighting conditions weren't as good as I had hoped, and I pretty much shot all the frames on both films with the lenses of both cameras wide open (I could have taken a tripod, but this feels as though it goes against the spirit, at least, of the current regulations: leaving the house to take a walk for exercise, and taking some photographs while doing so, as opposed to leaving the house to take photographs). I shot the Ilford HP3 film with the VoigtlĂ€nder Bessa, which has an f3.8 lens, the fastest of my medium format folding cameras; I used the Kiev-4 for the Orwo NP20. Both cameras are rangefinders, which might make focussing easier in low-light, certainly when compared to scale-focus cameras when hand-holding the cameras demanded wide apertures (and relatively slow shutter speeds too). With the Orwo film, I did bracket quite a few shots, daring to use as low as 1/10th in a few instances with some form of support (a tree, or a railing) whereas, with only eight shots on the HP3 in 6c9 format, I didn't bracket. I did start shooting the Bessa at 1/100th at f3.8, but by the last couple of shots where I could tell the light was lower than when I had first left the house, I used 1/25th, hardly ideal for a medium format camera with a 105mm lens.


Ordinarily, I might have stand developed both films, both being long-discontinued emulsions, and something which is usually a good strategy to get a useable negative in such circumstances. However, the leaflet inside the HP3 box did provide some developing times for a handful of developers, and one, PQ Universal, was one that I happened to have to hand. PQ Universal was one of a number of 'universal' developers which could be used for both film and paper development; it's still made by Ilford at the time of writing, but is listed as a paper developer and is not recommended for 35mm or medium format; the leaflet with the film does state that PQ Univeral can be used "if contact prints are to be made". I considered that, given its age, I wasn't too concerned with obtaining a fine-grained negative from the roll of HP3, so used the PQ Universal as directed, diluting it at 1+19, and developing the film for 7 minutes at 20ÂșC. Allowing for the age of the film and the lighting conditions when taking the photographs, the PQ Universal worked well enough.

VoigtlÀnder Bessa RF with Ilford HP3
VoigtlÀnder Bessa RF with Ilford HP3
The first couple of frames (above) from the roll did have a lot of blank spots on the negative, showing up as black in the scans above, which I think may have been from the decaying strip of tape, originally holding the film to its backing paper. When advancing the film to the first frame, this needed a moderate amount of force, and was rather noisier than expected: the tape had hardened over the decades and the adhesive given up, and when I came to develop the film, the tape was loose, and must have come off the film when it flattened in moving through the camera to the take-up spool. Fortunately, the rest of the film came with it.

I also had a few issues with focus, possibly less critical had I not shot everything wide open. One shot was out of focus simply due to user error: the last of the two shots above was focused down to 1 metre; after taking the shot, I recall distinctly thinking that the Bessa allows the user to close it when focused at any distance, unlike some other folding cameras (notably the Retina); minutes later, I opened the camera again to photograph a cloud formation without remembering to re-focus it (the rangefinder window is separate from the viewfinder, which makes this an easier mistake to make). I subsequently took another photograph of the sky, successfully focussed at infinity (at the time, the subject of these shots I thought would be sufficiently bright to register on the film if nothing else came out).

VoigtlÀnder Bessa RF with Ilford HP3
VoigtlÀnder Bessa RF with Ilford HP3
In the first shot below, I had thought I had focussed the camera on the furthest chairs in the middle distance, but the buildings in the distance are in focus, which, again, might be user error or that the rangefinder is a little out of calibration, less obvious at smaller apertures. The second shot below isn't especially well framed, possibly I hadn't taken into account parallax error - the Bessa's viewfinder has no framelines or adjustments for this (I could have cropped the frame to centre to subject–and probably would if I were to print the negative–but have chosen not to here).

VoigtlÀnder Bessa RF with Ilford HP3
VoigtlÀnder Bessa RF with Ilford HP3
VoigtlÀnder Bessa RF with Ilford HP3
To develop the Orwo NP20 film, I found that it's listed on the Massive Dev Chart, under the 'discontinued & obsolete' category: I used the time from the chart with Rodinal diluted 1+50. This film had aged less well than the Ilford HP3, and the edge fogging was particularly obtrusive in some frames, but, with sufficient exposure, this was much less apparent. Subject also made a difference: some compositions suffered less as a result, others more so. In some cases I also used the burn tool in Photoshop along the edges, but only doing what I would do when printing in the darkroom

Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
As an example of how sufficient exposure mitigates the edge fogging, the three frames below show three successive exposures, with shutter speeds from 1/50th, to 1/25th and 1/10th, and the fogging is hard to discern on the last frame (I also trust the rangefinder on my Kiev-4, so any softness of focus is that of the Helios lens and camera shake). Of course, too much exposure starts to compress the tones in the highlights and mid-tone range, and I think this may just be making itself apparent in the third frame in the sequence below.

Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
Having 36 frames on the roll of Orwo NP20 at least allowed for such bracketing, which I did not want to do on the more limited length of the medium format roll; naturally, though, I did shoot some of the same subjects on both films in both formats, but pretty much prefer the medium format versions in all cases.

Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20
Kiev-4 with Orwo NP20