Showing posts with label subminiature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label subminiature. Show all posts

Tuesday, 3 March 2026

Edixa 16-S

Edixa 16-S

Before Kodak introduced the 110 cartridge format in 1972, one of the great issues of subminiature film cameras was the proprietary cassette: with the popularity of subminiature cameras emerging in Japan in the 1950s, it seems every manufacturer made their own film cassettes which were all incompatible with other manufacturers' cameras. Evidently, Kodak were aware of the subminiature market, and after the success of the drop-in 126 cartridge, Kodak entered–or subsumed–that market with the consumer-friendly 110 cartridge; with Kodak's reach, the 110 format forced a standard and most other subminiature camera formats slowly disappeared. 

There were some examples of cross-manufacturer compatibility, but this generally happened through the copying of cameras, most notably, the initial Kiev Vega cameras which were copies of the initial model of the Minolta 16 camera, although the Kiev camera soon diverged as it evolved. One rare example of what must have been active co-operation, the Rada 16 cassette was adopted by three different German manufacturers. Although some information online doesn't always agree, it appears that the Goldammer Goldeck 16 camera was first, in 1959, followed by the first Edixa 16 in 1960 and finally the Rollei 16 in 1963. 

One reason for picking up an Edixa 16 camera is that I already had a number of cassettes thanks to sourcing them for my Rollei 16. There was also the sense of still looking for the 'perfect' subminiature camera that would take 16mm film (if such a thing could be found). The Rollei 16 has some limitations, such as its automatic exposure, but the biggest restriction of the camera is its use of perforated film. This means that cut-down film cannot be used in the camera, and one is restricted to whatever emulsions are available in 16mm–restricted further to single-perforated unless one wants to have the perforations appear along one edge of the image. The Rollei 16 is also quite large for a subminiature camera; the image below comapares the Edixa 16-S to the Rollei 16.

Edixa 16-S (front) and Rollei 16 (viewfinder extended for use)

There are a number of different Edixa 16 models, as well as Franka and Alka-branded versions; I found an Edixa 16-S at a relatively low price online and it was one of the cameras I bought on something of a whim during the second year of the pandemic as a distraction, and one without much research, although the sources seem a little thin on detail. Comparisons to the Rollei 16 here feel apt–the cameras have a similar feel in some respects, not just from the use of the same cassette; with the optional lightmeter that attaches to the side of the camera, the Edixa 16 and Rollei 16 look more alike (my camera came without the meter). I had thought that Heinz Waaske might have been involved in both designs, as Waaske famously worked for Rollei on the Rollei 35, but he only joined Rollei two years after the Rollei 16 was introduced (Waaske also proposed a compact 35mm camera to Wirgin, no doubt thanks in part to his work on the Edixa 16; Wirgin passed on the concept, which Waaske then took to Rollei, who produced around 2 million Rollei 35 cameras).

Without the lightmeter, the Edixa 16 is just over 8cm wide, by 4cm deep and about 3cm high with the various buttons, dials and levers protruding from the top and botton. The Edixa 16-S appears to be the low-end of the range of Edixa 16 cameras, with some of the functionality of the other models absent. There is also an Edixa 16 S, a different model from the similarly named 16-S described here (the S on that camera is engraved below the name - S - like the other models, M, MB, U. The 16-S lacks the small wheel or lever located next to the exposure dial for use with flash. It has an unnamed 25mm f2.8 lens–most of the other models, although not all, have a circular lens surround which gives the name of the lens, supplied by Schneider-Kreuznach, Rodenstock or Schacht. According to Submin.com, the Edixa 16-S has a Rodenstock Trinar lens, although this is not marked.

Edixa 16-S top plate
On the top plate of the camera, almost in the centre, is the shutter release, threaded for a cable release. This is surrounded by a rotating collar which locks the release, marked by a red dot which turns from a 12 o'clock position (unlocked) to 2 o'clock (locked), matching two black dots on the inner ring. The focus dial is on the right of the camera's top plate and is marked in metres in black, and feet in red. The lens focuses from infinity down to 0.4 metres. This dial, and the exposure dial, has a small indent with a black dot to indicate the selected setting.

On the left is the exposure dial. On the Edixa 16-S, shutter speed and aperture are a coupled EV (exposure vaue) system with black numbers ranging 8-15; outside this, the apertures above are marked in red. This is not the first camera I've had with an EV system, but on the Edix 16-S there is no means to override the coupling. The exposure dial also lacks shutter speed information (the Edixa 16 M and MB do have markings for shutter speeds) but the coupling is simple: from EV 10-15, the shutter is set to 1/150th: this encompasses the whole range of apertures. EV 9 is 1/60th at f2.8, and EV 8 1/30th at f2.8. The dial on the 16-S does rotate to a position below EV; on other cameras, this is where there is a B setting, but on the 16-S this doesn't function as an unmarked B and is presumably the same setting as EV 8.

The exposure dial also has a ring to set ISO. Without the dedicated lightmeter that attaches to the Edixa, this ring simply functions as a reminder. Using my Edixa 16-S, I mostly relied on the 'sunny 16' rule, although the EV numbers work well with contemporary light meters that have LV/EV numbers that one can use without thinking about the precise aperture/shutter speed combinations. There is–to me at least–a faint echo of the top plate of the Edixa 16 cameras in Heinz Waaske's design of the front face of the the Rollei 35.

Edixa 16-S bottom plate
The underside of the camera is where both film advance lever and rewind crank are located, as well as the frame counter, which resets to 'A' when opened. This is marked with even numbers and intermediate dots up to 24 (film will keep advancing after the 24th frame, unlike the Rollei 16). Very mush like a 35mm camera, to rewind the film, there is a rewind button to depress, and the rewind crank flips up; the advance and rewind are very much like a 35mm camera of the time.

The viewfinder is of the bright albada type, with parallax marks for close subjects. The viewfinder is  not quite as good as that on the Rollei 16 but close–it is one of clearest subminiature viewfinders I've experienced (it's also worth mentioning that it's larger and clearer than a number of my 35mm and medium format viewfinders); the viewfinder does take up nearly one-third of the length of the camera body. On the end of the body by the viewfinder there's a large screw and two round hole to which the meter attache; on the other end is threaded socket which functions for a tripod or hand strap.

Edixa 16-S showing rear latch
On the back of the camera it a round wheel that turns to unlock the camera back, with a small Z and A to indicate the direction to turn it from locked and unlocked. The bottom plate removes entirely for loading, with a section of the back that includes the film's pressure plate. With the advance and rewind levers on the bottom plate, these all have linkages through to the film cassette and the take up spool. 

Edixa 16-S opened for loading

A unique aspect to the Edixa 16 camera is the take-up spool, which is removable: to load the camera, the take-up spool is taken out. It has a spring clip under which the end of a fresh roll of film is secured, and then both are dropped into the camera, both with different dimensions, which means that they can't be inserted the wrong way around. If the take-up spool is missing, the camera is unusable as there's no way for the film to be wound on. The take-up spool has two small holes in the top through which two tabs on a spindle in the body connects this to the advance lever. Closing the camera body after loading, if the two parts of the camera don't fit closely, it can be that attention needs to be given to the positions of the tabs and the corresponding advance crank on the camera bottom to match these up properly (as well as the small slot in the release catch needing to be lined up correctly).

Edixa 16 advance or take-up spool

The first roll of film that I put through the Edixa 16-S was a cut-down section of Ilford HP5 Plus, an offcut from making up 127 format rolls. I did use the sunny 16 rule when exposing this film. With the shutter speed at most exposure settings being 1/150th, it wasn't necessarily easy to make exposure calculations in my head as I shot, and I think the results rely on the fact that HP5 Plus has enough latitude to excuse a lack of precision in exposure.

Edixa 16-S with Ilford HP5 Plus

The results were promising: the unnamed lens performs well on the subminiature level, and the shot I was most pleased about was the image above, shot in the Tate Modern Turbine Hall, not the easiest lighting conditions to contend with when exposing. The images from the camera in this post are scanned from the negatives; printing in the darkroom from the negatives would no doubt give better results. I also shot some Kodak Imagelink film, an unperforated document film. I rated this film at either 20 or 25 ISO: the film is very tight in grain but has narrow latitude.

Edixa 16-S with Kodak Imagelink

With bright sunlight and deep shadows, the Imagelink film does not have the latitude to record information in both highlights and shadow areas, and so is better suited to overcast days when taking photographs outside. It is also particular in development, bearing in mind that using the film for pictorial purposes is not its intended use (I used a semi-stand development in Kodak HC-110 at dilution G, 1+119 from concentrate at 18 minutes at 20ºC, with agitation every 5 minutes).

There were two issues that emerged with my Edixa 16-S. I began to have overlapping frames on my negatives; I may have caused this by breaking the small pin which registers the film counter. I did this when trying to load the camera without a cassette inside a black bag–this was as I didn't have a cassette loaded, and I thought I could get a longer length of 16mm inside the camera without a cassette, but then caught the pin and bent it. When trying to bend this back into place it broke.

Edixa 16-S counter pin

This proved impossible to fix: I taped the two pieces together and fixed it back into the camera, but its spring was gone, which meant that the frame counter now keeps slipping back to the start position. The overlapping negative frames might be related to this.

Edixa 16-S with Kentmere Pan 400

I did find a workaround for this: when advancing the film, I found I was able to watch the rewind crank turn–like a manual 35mm camera–and if it didn't appear to be turning, or turning enough, I would take a blank frame and advance it again. It is one additional concern when using the camera.

Other than these issues, the Edixa 16-S is one of the better subminiature cameras I've used, partly due to its small size and how it feels in the hand–or handled in a coat pocket like a netsuke. Having used it for a few rolls, any of the more fully-featured Edixa 16 cameras would be preferable of course–the Edixa 16 M or MB models being the top of the range, and, using the dedicated lightmeter, although this makes the camera bigger, it would make exposure easier, although I'm used to using manual cameras with or without metering, so this isn't necessarily a great consideration when shooting. I hadn't used any conventional low ISO films with the camera, which might provide images with finer grain but better latitude than the Kodak Imagelink, something else to try, and would also show off the quality of the lens–which printing from the negatives in the darkroom would ultimately demonstrate.

Edixa 16-S with Ilford HP5 Plus

Edixa 16-S with Ilford HP5 Plus

Edixa 16-S with Kodak Imagelink

Edixa 16-S with Kodak Imagelink

 

Sources/further reading:
Edixa 16 cameras on Camera-Wiki.org
Heinz Waaske on Camera-Wiki.org 
Edixa 16 cameras on Submin.com

Sunday, 22 March 2020

Workers Not Leaving The Factory

“The lights leap up, and at their sudden descent you see upon the cloth a factory at noon disgorging its inmates. Men and women jostle and laugh; a swift bicycle seizes the occasion of an empty space; a huge hound crosses the yard in placid content; you can catch the very changing expression of a mob happy in its release; you note the varying speed of the footsteps; not one of the smaller signs of human activity escapes you. And then, again, a sudden light, and recurring darkness.”
O. Winter, ‘The Cinematograph’, The New Review, May 1896

“Immediately after the command had been given to leave the factory back in 1895, the workers streamed out. Even if they sometimes got in each other's way - one young woman is seen to tug at another's skirt before they part in opposite directions, knowing that the other will not dare to retaliate under the stern eye of the camera ­- the overall move­ment remains swift and nobody is left behind. That this is the case is perhaps because the primary aim was to represent motion, maybe sign­posts were already being set. Only later, once it had been learned how filmic images grasp for ideas and are themselves seized by them, are we able to see in hindsight that the resolution of the workers' motion represents something, that the visible movement of people is standing in for the absent and invisible movement of goods, money, and ideas circulating in industry.
The basis for the chief stylistics of cinema was given in the first film sequence. Signs and symbols are not brought into the world, but taken from reality. It is as though the world itself wanted to tell us something.”
Harun Farocki, ‘Workers Leaving the Factory’
La Sortie de l'Usine Lumière à Lyon, known in English as Workers Leaving The Lumière Factory in Lyon, Employees Leaving the Lumière Factory, or simply Exiting the Factory, was the first film to be projected in front of an audience, at the Société d'Encouragement de l'Industrie Nationale, on 22nd March 1895. It was the only film that Auguste and Louis Lumière then had available, and was shown, almost as an afterthought, following demonstrations of the Lumières’ experiments in colour photography. That this scene was chosen for the subject of their first film must be largely due to the pure, combined contingencies of proximity, of movement, and of light. The Cinématographe, fixed, unmoving, faces the entrance to the photographic plate factory in Lyon established by Antoine Lumière, Auguste and Louis’ father, and records the factory workers leaving through a large double gate and an adjacent doorway. The hand-cranked Cinématographe, a camera, printer, and projector combined in one device, was perhaps loaded that morning in the factory that ones sees in the shot; the film may well have been developed, and, now as a negative, dried, run back through the Cinématographe in contact with a fresh roll of film to make a positive print all in a day. Descriptions of La Sortie de l'Usine Lumière à Lyon refer to it being “dinner hour”, “the noonhour at the factory”. Early film relied almost exclusively on daylight due to the limited sensitivity of the photographic emulsions available at the time, combined with the need for short exposure times in order to achieve sufficient successive frames with a fast enough shutter speed to create the impression of movement when played back. The noon hour outside the factory would provide the brightest intensity of available light during the day, and, additionally, the sun is behind the camera at that point in its path through the sky, ideal for defining the figures emerging into the street from the yard with the factory buildings behind (the factory entrances face south-south-west). Presumably, the first two contingent factors, of proximity and light, naturally suggested the third, movement:
“The Lumieres made several films of people filing past their camera, including one of workers leaving their factory, the first film to be screened publicly. The subject matter was ideal: endlessly different figures passing through a fixed frame express so much so simply, about photographs in motion.”
David Campany, Photography and Cinema
There are in fact three extant versions of La Sortie de l'Usine Lumière à Lyon which suggests that the Lumières were sufficiently captivated by the subject to film it more than once, but perhaps also that they may have been unsatisfied with their first film itself. The version that Harun Farocki analyses in ‘Workers Leaving the Factory’ starts with the gates opening and ends with them closing, and appears the most organised visually (“In the Lumière film about leaving the factory, the building or area is a container, full at the beginning and emptied at the end. This satis­fies the desire of the eye, which itself can be based on other desires.” Harun Farocki, ‘Workers Leaving the Factory’): the detail of one of the workers pinching the skirt of another before they part in different directions appears a knowing gesture, an improvisation or a deviation from the script which may itself suggest a familiarity to repetition. Farocki’s assertion that the worker whose skirt is tugged “will not dare to retaliate under the stern eye of the camera” is emblematic of the direction that these workers are subject to. The three different versions of the film are known by the presence - or absence - of a horse-drawn conveyance: it appears in two versions of the film, drawn by one horse in one, two horses in another, absent in the third. Farocki uses the ‘no horse’ version in his film Workers Leaving the Factory; the figures streaming out of the factory gates, already open, in the one-horse film appear less organised than the ‘no horse’ version. The version of La Sortie de l'Usine Lumière à Lyon was that was shown at the Société d'Encouragement de l'Industrie Nationale on 22nd March was filmed three days earlier on the 19th: in the one horse version, the shadow of bare branches can be seen on the ground, suggesting a date early in the year, as does the workers’ clothing - lighter clothes and bare arms are on show in the no-horse film and the shadow of the tree or trees behind the camera show that the leaves are out; all three variants were shot in sunlit conditions, and the visible shadows are relatively short, indicating a high angle of the sun in the sky, suggesting all three were filmed near midday. A more forensic analysis could no doubt place the time of day and year more precisely, given that the geographical location is known (the Institute Lumière reproduces the two-horse version on their website as the Lumières’ first film; this version is more tightly framed, but the workers' clothing here again appears lighter than the one horse version).

Following the Lumieres’ first showing of projected films to a paying public on 28 December 1895 at the Salon Indien in the Grand Café, Paris, the Cinématographe was demonstrated to the public in London, at the Regent Street Polytechnic, on the 21st February 1896, with an invited audience the day before. The Polytechnic's own magazine reported the event as:
"a special exhibition of a new invention by MM. Auguste and Louis Lumière – the Cinématographe. [...] For instance, a photograph of a railway station is shown, two or three seconds elapse and a train steams into the station and stops, the carriage opens, the people get out and there is the usual hurrying for a second or two, and then again the train moves off. The whole thing is realistic, and is, as a matter of fact, an actual photograph."
The Polytechnic Magazine, 26 February 1896
The initial showing had a very small audience, fifty-four paying viewers, but, as in Paris, the Cinématographe's popularity, no doubt gained through press notices and word of mouth, soon required showings every hour on the hour between 2 and 10pm. Forty years later, the Regent Street Polytechnic marked the anniversary of this showing with a repeat of the original films and an exhibition, which situated the Cinématographe amongst other technologies creating the illusion of the moving image, the phenakisticope, zoetrope, Edison's Kinetoscope, and was opened by Louis Lumière himself. 'The Lumière Celebration' programme reproduces the original list of films shown in February 1896: La Sortie de l'Usine Lumière à Lyon is not listed; however, tantalisingly, there is a sentence that reads that the programme "will be selected from the following subjects, and will be liable to frequent changes, as well as ADDITIONAL POURTRAYALS [sic]".

The Lumière's Cinématographe used 35mm-wide film, but, unlike Edison's Kinetoscope, which essentially introduced the form of 35mm perforated film still in use today, this used a single round perforation per frame on each side. Smaller formats were soon developed for amateurs: Kodak developed 16mm film, and, a few years later, repurposed it by doubling the number of perforations, and created the 2x8mm format which was popular for home movies until Kodak produced the Super-8 cartridge which all but made 2x8mm obsolete. Despite its near-obsolence, I have used 2x8mm film in recent years; in experimenting with a Bolex 8mm camera, I discovered that unperforated 16mm film would run through it. I had tried some single-perforated 16mm Double-X film, to test exposure and development of that particular film with the camera. The perforated side ran through the Bolex with the frames overlapping in pairs, a result of the 16mm film having half the number of perforations of 2x8mm film. Having shot the perforated side, I turned over the film and tried shooting the unperforated side - which worked. As I had a length of Ilford FP4 Plus film cut down to 16mm, I tested this to see if I could shoot it with the Bolex camera, and it worked. With the #FP4Party returning this March, in my desire to do something different for it, I thought that I could actually make a short film shooting on Ilford FP4 Plus itself (coincidentally, when Ilford used to make ciné film many years ago, FP4 was one of the emulsions supplied in 16mm). Searching for a subject, I was provoked by seeing images of the location of Ilford's Britannia Works site on social media promoting this month's #FP4Party; these were of course familiar, as in 2013 I'd spent some time researching the Ilford company's beginnings in Ilford, writing a long post about this, illustrating it with photographs shot on Ilford document film with an Ilford camera.

Bolex test with unperforated Ilford FP4 Plus
Cutting medium format film to 16mm wide meant that duration would be fixed by its length. 120 rollfilm is about 82cm long; 2x8mm film has 80 frames per foot, meaning I could get something less than 240 frames per side on a cut-down section of film - not including losing a little of the length threading the film through the camera gate and on to the take up spool. The Bolex B8 has a wide range of filming speeds, so I was not constrained to shooting at the standard silent speed of 16fps, which would give just ten seconds of running time per side. To increase the duration of the film, I cut three lengths of medium format FP4 Plus, and taped these together in the dark; ideally, I wanted the film to be the same duration as those first Lumière films, which had a maximum running time of 50 seconds, taking 17 metres of 35mm film; shooting at 12fps, I thought it would be possible to shoot around 45 seconds on three lengths of cut-down FP4 Plus joined together. This also required loading, then opening the camera after shooting the first side to turn the film over, and finally unloading it all in the dark, to make use of as much of the film as possible. I took a changing bag with me to turn the film over on location after having shot the first side.

In my research into the Britannia Works site, I wrote briefly about my personal connection to Ilford, having grown up there, with my family moving to the town just before all the buildings on the Ilford site were demolished; we tended not to use the Sainsbury's supermarket that was subsequently built there at the time, but in the mid-1990s my brother bought his first house in a post-war estate at the far end of Riverdene Road from it. Away from London studying during this period, and after finishing my degree, I would stay there on occasion, as a result making it very familiar, but also associated with a particular period in my life. I think we may have also visited the Papermakers Arms pub on the corner of Roden Street and Riverdene Road once or twice, but around that time there were a number of pubs in the town that I only visited once or twice. I certainly went to the Cranbrook, a pub on the site of Alfred Harman’s home where he began making ‘Britannia’ dry plates in 1879, starting the business which was to become Ilford Limited.

As the FP4 film loaded into the Bolex, even with three lengths joined together, provided a short duration, I wanted a simple subject, one single fixed shot for each side of the film. I planned to film the locations where entrances and exits to Britannia Works, a factory manufacturing photographic plates like the Lumières', used to be, 125 years on from their first film. Changes to Ilford's Britannia Works site took place in 1896, the year the Cinématographe was exhibited in London, extending it to Roden Street, part of the current road layout. Revisiting the site this year in early March, around the corner on Riverdene Road, the two dilapidated houses next to the Papermakers Arms have gone since my post of 2013; these were demolished four years ago, and a new building is currently going up on their footprint. On Roden Street, opposite Sainsbury's, an area which also had some Ilford premises, Britannia Music Publishing had their headquarters, one of the few high rise developments while I was growing up in Ilford. In 2013, this too had been demolished and the site cleared, now populated with tall buildings in the process of being completed, typifying how land use has changed in the last decade or so.

Roden Street/Rollei 16 with Ilford FP4, develop before July 1975
I set up my camera opposite the exit to Sainsbury’s car park for the first shot. Before the changes to Britannia Works in 1896, the site boundary would have been roughly in the position of the ramp over the exit. I felt certain that the exit to car park itself would provide movement as I filmed: indeed, there was a worker painting the bollards between the way in and way out lanes as I set up the tripod. All around me, there was work going on as I filmed. Behind the camera, the understory car park beneath the new development was being surfaced with tarmac. In front, but just out of view of the lens, the pavement had been dug up and a lorry parked alongside. Two construction workers crossed the road behind this out-of-shot lorry as I filmed.

Riverdene Road/Rollei 16 with Ilford FP4, develop before July 1975
The second shot is of a narrow section of brick wall, projecting from the south-western corner of Sainsbury’s car park. In my research of 2013, I had identified this as fitting the size and position of an entrance to the alley that led to Britannia Works before the site was extended to Roden Street in 1896. As a subject, the blank brick wall is antithetical to the idea of “photographs in motion” and it looked as though there would be no movement at all when I began filming, perhaps appropriate to shooting what used to be an entrance but is no longer. The camera jammed as I filmed this. Opening it in the changing bag, one of the taped joins between two of the cut lengths of film was in the gate, and I moved this through manually. Continuing to film, a car and a pedestrian passed along Riverdene Road before the film ran out.

Rollei Super 16 cassettes loaded with Ilford FP4 film with a develop before date of July 1975
I also shot still photographs on Ilford FP4 with a “develop before” date of July 1975, the previous iteration of Ilford’s ‘Fine Grain Panchromatic’ film before the ‘Plus’ suffix was added. This FP4 is single perforated 16mm film, ready-loaded into 'Super 16' cassettes for the Rollei 16 subminiature camera. The film boxes state that the film is “Packed by Rollei-Werke Franke & Heidecke Braunschwieg Germany”. It’s entirely possible that this film itself was manufactured on the Roden Street site before the factory closed. The last photographic plates were coated there in November 1975; given that develop before dates are usually a few years from the point of manufacture, this FP4 film was possibly made around 1970, soon after FP4 film supplanted FP3. The 16mm film does not possess ciné film edge markings, but has frame numbering for the 12x17mm Rollei 16 format, as well as the stylised ‘R’ from the Rollei typeface. I did briefly consider using this film in the Bolex, but the Rollei cassettes only contain approximately 50cm of film, much shorter than the cut-down medium format FP4. In addition, the tests I’d previously made demonstrated that with standard 16mm perforations the frames would overlap on the perforated side, which would be hardly ideal.

Ilford Sprite camera in Redbridge Central Library/Rollei 16 with Ilford FP4, develop before July 1975
After shooting the film and taking some still photographs, I went to Redbridge Central Library, where I’d conducted my research in the local studies section seven years ago. There, in the non-fiction section, I photographed the small display case containing an Ilford Sprite camera, a box of R.52 Panchromatic plates and rolls of 35mm HPS film refills. The local studies section has been reorganised since I was there last (the museum itself appeared unchanged, with its case about Mary Davis, who worked at Ilford until it closed in 1976); upstairs there was a display about the various resources available to research local history, including a section on the 1911 census. This highlighted a family who lived in Margaret Cottages, the houses demolished four years ago next to the Papermakers Arms, and this included a photograph from 1984 I hadn't seen before of Riverdene Road with Margaret Cottages being overshadowed by the Ilford factory, of which I made a thumbnail sketch.


The raised steps outside the doors of Margaret Cottages, something I’d noticed as being distinctive, indicated that the whole ground floor of the houses was raised to protect the properties from flooding by the nearby river Roding, with one notable flood occurring in June 1903, and another more recent one in 2000. Earlier in the day I had got down to the Roding at the end of Roden Street, between the flats built there, a development from a few years back now; I imagine this is all private land, but there was nothing to stop me getting alongside the railings bounding the river (on the other side, the A406 road essentially prevents access to the river for a long stretch). I had found a reference in Silver by the Ton to glass plates being dried in the open air by the river (presumably after cutting and cleaning, before coating); this stretch of the Roding also used to be known as the Hyle, from which Ilford is derived.

The Roding by Roden Street/Rollei 16 with Ilford FP4, develop before July 1975
I developed the FP4 Plus from the Bolex with D96; as there were three lengths, I developed one first, separated from the others, removing the tape from the joins so that these areas would also develop. The first length appeared thin, due to the D96 being close to exhaustion, so I increased the developing time of the second two, almost doubling it (the first length of film I’d developed for 10 minutes at 21ºC, the second for 18 minutes at the same temperature). One of these came out entirely blank, which must have been from the taped join here also getting stuck in the gate, and I had turned the film over in the camera at this point between exposing the first and second sides: out of two runs through the Bolex camera, only one taped join passed through the gate in one direction without getting stuck. I had tested this beforehand, but without doing this in the dark: it’s much easier to neatly tape a couple of lengths of film together when you can see what you’re doing. Once developed, it was clear that the frame spacing was more erratic than the previous test I had made on unperforated film, although the total running time would have been close to La Sortie de l'Usine Lumière à Lyon if all three lengths of film had gone through the gate. The still images were developed in Ilfotec LC29 at a dilution of 1+19, and I had rated the film at an exposure index of 40, which gave rather dense negatives.

Inverted negative showing irregular frame spacing

“The first camera in the history of cinema was pointed at a factory, but a century later it can be said that film is hardly drawn to the factory and is even repelled by it. Films about work or workers have not become one of the main genres, and the space in front of the factory has remained on the sidelines.”
Harun Farocki, ‘Workers Leaving the Factory’
Harun Farocki’s film Arbeiter verlassen die Fabrik (Workers Leaving the Factory) was made in 1995, the centenary of the Lumières’ first films, of which there was revival of interest, notably with the compilation film, Lumière et compagnie; Farocki’s film is a collage of cinema’s originary motif, culled from documentaries and features (“I have gathered, compared, and studied these and many other images which use the motif of the first film in the history of cinema, "workers leaving the factory," and have assembled them into a film”). In doing so it would appear that this film itself reanimated the subject, with the caveat that this is largely in the realm of the non-fiction film:
“In recent years, a number of remakes of the Lumière Brothers’ Workers Leaving the Factory have appeared. This particular Lumière film has become a touchstone for filmmakers in the past two decades, beginning with Farocki’s Workers Leaving the Factory, which compiles footage of workers exiting factories from many different fiction and nonfiction films, drawing our attention to how frequent and yet parenthetical or unexplored this visual image is in film history.”
Jennifer L Peterson, 'Workers Leaving the Factory: Witnessing Labor in the Digital Age'
Peterson’s prime examples are Ben Russell’s Workers Leaving the Factory (Dubai) from 2008, which clearly references the Lumières' film in its title and form, being a single long take of migrant workers leaving a construction site; Sharon Lockhart’s Exit (also 2008) which reverses the viewpoint of La Sortie de l'Usine Lumière à Lyon by placing the camera inside the factory gates looking out, filming the workers leaving an iron works on five successive weekdays in five unedited shots; and Daniel Eisenberg’s The Unstable Object (2011), which contrasts three different factories, from a technologically advanced car factory, to handmade clocks by visually impaired workers, and the traditional casting and finishing of cymbals. Referencing David Harvey, the theme of uneven geographical development is touched upon, especially in the contrasts in Eisenberg’s film, but also with the use of migrant labour in Russell’s Workers Leaving the Factory (Dubai); Lockhart’s Exit pictures a form of labour, once familiar to many, but increasingly outsourced from the global north.
“The title of the first film by the Lumière brothers (La sortie des usines, 1895) also prophetically describes the changes in working conditions that took place in the twentieth century.”
Volker Pantenburg, ‘Deviation as Norm—Notes on the Essay Film’
The site bounded by Roden Street and Riverdene Road can be taken as emblematic of changes from the end of the 19th century to the beginning of the 21st. Ilford’s Britannia Works did not start as a greenfield site, but literally as a cottage industry, expanding from Alfred Harman’s home to a rented cottage on the Clyde Estate and from there growing quickly during the very end of the 19th century into the beginning of the 20th. The factory incorporated social functions, with clubs, newsletters and such like, as evidenced by Mary Davis’ comments in the local museum. Without unnecessarily fetishising the solidarity of this form of labour, much of these functions have disappeared in the post-war decades. At the end of the 1970s, Ilford Limited moved away to Cheshire, and its other sites in Basildon and Brentwood were closed, consolidating production. The closure of Britannia Works in Ilford made possible the redevelopment of the town centre, the road scheme surrounding the site reflecting the increasing dominance of the private car in the 1980s, and the site moved from being one of production to a site of consumption with the arrival of the supermarket.

The title Workers Not Leaving The Factory alludes to two versions of ‘not leaving’: first, this is the site where a factory was, but is no longer, a simple temporal dislocation. At the time the Lumières demonstrated the Cinématographe in London, there would have been workers leaving the site each day (I could have waited until the supermarket closed at the end of the working day, but at 10pm, there wouldn’t have been enough light to film; I shot at lunchtime, appropriately, and the working patterns in grocery shops certainly do not include closing for lunch: in the shot on Roden Street shoppers are seen leaving the supermarket). Second, for many occupations, although not those physical, repetitious ones which typically take place in factories or on construction sites, obliquely seen in the film, work in the 21st century is never truly left behind when one exits the premises: the site of work is all pervasive in the digital realm. Of this kind of work, if 'the factory' stands in for work itself, then work is all around in a sense that the workers leaving the Lumière factory could never have conceived: once they had left the factory site, work had no call on them until they reappeared for their next shift.

Bibliography

All three versions of La Sortie de l'Usine Lumière à Lyon are on YouTube here.
The Regent Street Polytechnic Lumière Celebration programme (PDF) http://www.cineressources.net/ (retrieved 12/03/20)

David Campany, Photography and Cinema, Reaktion Books, London 2008 (2012 reprint)
Harun Farocki, Imprint/Writings, (English translation by Laurent Faasch-Ibrahim) Lukas & Sternberg, New York, 2001
Harun Farocki, Arbeiter verlassen die Fabrik (Workers leaving the factory), 1995 https://vimeo.com/59338090
David Harvey, Spaces of Global Capitalism: Towards a Theory of Uneven Geographical Development, Verso, London, 2006
RJ Hercock and GA Jones, Silver by the Ton - A History of Ilford Limited 1879-1979, McGraw-Hill, London, 1979
Joost Hunningher, 'Now showing at 309 Regent Street – Ghosts on ‘Our Magic Screen’. A screenplay' in The Magic Screen, Joost Hunningher, Rikki Morgan-Tamosunas, Guy Osborn and Ro Spankie, University of Westminster Press, 2015
Sharon Lockhart, Exit, 2008. Available online at www.ubu.com/film/lockhart_exit.html 
Volker Pantenberg, ‘Deviation as Norm—Notes on the Essay Film’ in Farocki/Godard, Amsterdam University Press, 2015 (https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt16d69tz.7 retrieved 21/2/20)
Jennifer L Peterson, ‘Workers Leaving the Factory: Witnessing Labor in the Digital Age’, The Oxford Handbook of Sound and Image in Digital Media, 2013 (https://www.academia.edu/5728999/Workers_Leaving_the_Factory_Witnessing_Labor_in_the_Digital_Age retrieved 1/3/20)
Ben Russell, Workers Leaving the Factory (Dubai), (2008) Available online at http://vimeo.com/7528954
Ro Spankie, ‘The ‘Old Cinema’: a dissolving view’ in The Magic Screen, Joost Hunningher, Rikki Morgan-Tamosunas, Guy Osborn and Ro Spankie, University of Westminster Press, 2015
O. Winter, ‘The Cinematograph’, The New Review, May 1896 (https://picturegoing.com/?p=4166 retrieved 21/3/20)

Thursday, 18 April 2019

Rollei 16 Cassettes

Super 16 Cassette loaded with Ilford Pan F film
I wrote my original post about the Rollei 16 subminiature camera after a moderately intensive period of using the camera during which, as I did not have any of the Rada 16 cassettes for the camera, I could only shoot one roll of film before needing to unload the camera in the darkroom or darkbag. Unlike many other subminiature cameras using 16mm film, the Rollei 16 is loaded with a single cassette into which the film is rewound after being shot. The same cassettes were used for at least two other cameras, the Edixa 16 and the Goldammer Goldeck 16; however, these rarely appear in online auctions, and when they do are often priced highly. Having been looking for the cassettes for some time, I chanced upon an auction listing in which another Rollei 16 was being sold along with some rolls of unexposed film in the original cassettes. Winning the auction, I subsequently sold on the camera, and, as the cassettes were loaded with film from the 1970s and 1980s, I waited for an appropriate occasion to use the films. This was 'Expired Film Day' last month.

Super 16 Cassette loaded with Vericolor II film
There were four rolls of film that came with the camera I'd bought: two boxes with 100 ASA colour negative film (which was Vericolor II Professional Type S) with a develop before date of August 83; and one box, a 'twin pack' with two rolls - the box itself was labelled as Ilford Pan F, develop before October 74, but one of the rolls inside turned out to be Ilfochrome colour transparency film. The black and white film box had a price label from a French shop, the colour films from a German one. The long four sides of the boxes (almost the same dimensions as a standard 35mm film carton) have the same information in German, French, English and Spanish; leaflets inside are also in Italian and Dutch. The Vericolor films were in white plastic tubs very much like those which 35mm film now comes in; the films inside the Pan F box were in smaller metal screw-top containers, perhaps indicating their age from a decade before, as similar to the metal containers 35mm films were protected with. The Pan F box has the information "Packed by Rollei-Werke Franke & Heidecke Braunschweig West Germany", while the colour film boxes explicitly states "cut, respooled, repacked by Rollei-Werke [...] wholly independently of original manufacturer." This information could suggest that Pan F film was available in 16mm at the time, as it was only 'packed'; it is also interesting to note that Franke & Heidecke continued to support the Rollei 16 at least a decade after the second model, the Rollei 16 S, had been discontinued.

I happened to be in Gdansk, Poland on Expired Film Day this year, and dutifully shot the three different expired films there on the day (one Vericolor roll remained unshot); for the remainder of my time in Gdansk, I reloaded the cassettes with 16mm Eastman Double-X (I usually take a dark bag with me when travelling for more than a couple of days). The Rada 16 cassettes have a central spool with a white snap-in 'plug' that secured the tapered end of the original films; when reloading I simply taped the end of the film to this. The Rollei 16 requires perforations to advance the film, so one has to pay attention to the orientation of the film when taping and loading - perforations are at the bottom of the film when loaded into the camera.

Rada 16 Cassette opened
When rewinding the film after shooting, the Rollei 16 revealed one more curious design decision: the rewind crank will only turn when the viewfinder is extended. Flipping over the rewind crank extends two pins which connect either side of a tab on the spool inside the cassettes; both ends of the spool have this tab, so it can be used either way around.

Rollei 16 opened, showing rewind pins extended
Returning from Gdansk, I had expectations that the Pan F film would most likely provide the best results: I had rated it at 25 and 12 EI to compensate for age, but after development, I pulled the film out of the tank to find the whole roll black. Possibly it had been unspooled at some point over the last four decades. This does not promise well for the colour films, which I haven't yet developed; in lieu of illustrating this post with images from Expired Film Day, other shots re-using the cassettes with Eastman Double-X will have to suffice.







Sunday, 24 December 2017

FP4 Half-Frame Diary

Ilford FP4, develop before date January 1991
A few months ago, I was given a roll of Ilford FP4 with a 'process before' date of Jan 91; this roll predates the introduction of the 'Plus' version of FP4 from 1990. The film itself was probably made in 1988-89, given 24 months or so between manufacture and 'expiry'. Looking for a reason to use the film, the announcement of the return of the #FP4Party for December provided the excuse if one was needed; last year, this was held three months in a row, although I only shot the old version of FP4 on one of the designated months in sheet film from the 1970s with the Butcher's Cameo.

Ilford FP4, develop before date January 1991
Inside the box, the plastic tub that the film was in has a blue top: Ilford films used to have colour co-ordinated tops (I mostly remember the red XP2 tops from the late 1990s to early 2000s, as this was the film I probably would have shot most). The metal film canister itself has easy-to-remove lid (making it easier to re-use), and the developing information is printed on a separate leaflet rather than inside the box.

I chose the Belomo Agat 18K; as a half-frame camera, I could get twice the number of shots (72) with it. This gave me the idea to shoot the film throughout the week - ten shots a day - like a diary of sorts (the idea of a half-frame diary dates back to when I was a student, learning about the 35mm half-frame format from a photography tutor, Mick Williamson who used an Olympus Pen for his photo-diary; later, I found an Olympus Pen EE3 and used this for a number of years, with a similar idea, although without any strict rigour). To compensate for age, I exposed the roll at EI 64, and also developed it as if rated 200, giving it an effective 2/3-stop push. Development was with RO9 One Shot, diluted 1+50 for 20 minutes at 20ºC. The results appear to show I was a little optimistic about how well this particular roll had lasted - the negatives were mostly very thin and grainy - and would no doubt have been better exposed at 25 (there were also a number of horizontal marks, as seen in the second image below, where the emulsion seemed to have failed to react to the exposure, showing up every few frames, but fading away after the first dozen or so). During 'shoot week', a combination of short daylight hours and very overcast weather conditions proved challenging when shooting the film with available light when rated 64, and many of the photographs were taken with the lens wide open at f2.8, and show up my guess focussing to be not always as accurate as I might have liked. I did attempt to use flash for a few shots - such as the last frame on Tuesday below, but the camera did not consistently trip the flash, leading to a number of blank frames. Towards the end of the week, there was some sunnier weather, then, almost unexpectedly, the final day of shoot week coincided with the first decent snowfall in southern England for a few years, which providing a more interesting end to the project.

Monday





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Thursday



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In addition to the roll of 35mm FP4, the shoot week happened to with the December 127 Day on the 7th; having cut down some FP4 Plus to use with my Baby Ikonta, I had a number of 'short ends' of film cut down to 127 width - as the length of 120 film is longer than 127, cutting down a roll of medium format film, one ends up with a short length of film leftover. This was enough for up to six shots in 3x4 negative size. I used a few of these short rolls of FP4 Plus on the final day of the shoot week.

Baby Ikonta with Ilford FP4 Plus
Baby Ikonta with Ilford FP4 Plus
Baby Ikonta with Ilford FP4 Plus
Baby Ikonta with Ilford FP4 Plus
Finally, on the last day of shoot week, I also shot a roll of 16mm film with the Mamiya 16 Automatic, an off-cut from cutting down the width of FP4 from medium format - the first image below I scanned as a diptych to include the film name in the rebate.

Mamiya 16 Automatic with Ilford FP4 Plus
Mamiya 16 Automatic with Ilford FP4 Plus
Mamiya 16 Automatic with Ilford FP4 Plus
Mamiya 16 Automatic with Ilford FP4 Plus