Part 8

Generally speaking, although there are often exceptions, the further an object is from us the grayer it seems. White becomes less white, and dark objects grow less dark, until in the distance both, under ordinary circumstances, come almost to the same "tone," and we see the distance only as a gray hazy mass.

If for a subject we have a figure of a woman by a stream of water and we make an under-exposed negative of it, or develop the negative to too great a density, we shall very likely have a print in which the water and the woman's apron and cap come very much whiter with regard to the rest of the subject than ever they appear in nature, whilst the distance will very likely come too dark. Here we show a disregard for the correct rendering of relative tones and the effect is hard and harsh, unlike nature. We must therefore endeavour, both in exposure and development and printing, to preserve relative tones exactly as they are in nature, and constant study and observation of nature should be carried on in order that the eye may be trained to know how things come relatively in nature, and so be able to decide at a glance if the photograph is good.

Ultimate success, by the way, often depends less on knowing what to take and how to take it than on a well-trained judgment which knows what is good or bad when we have taken it.

Whilst the mere lines or forms of objects may impart some amount of feeling and sentiment to a scene, inasmuch as there is restfulness and repose in the long horizontal lines of the river-side pastures, something rhythmical in the sinuous curves of the winding stream, or vigour and variety in the irregular forms of the rugged cliffs and so on, yet the ideas and feelings which the picture will promote depend more on the lights and shades, and the masses contrasting or merging each with each.

But Nature does not always present herself in pleasingly arranged masses, and is consequently at such times commonplace and unpicturesque in the literal sense of the word. At such times she will not attract the pictorial worker any more than she will when perchance the lines and groupings are unsuitable.

The landscape which basks under the full blaze of sun, glittering throughout every inch with a myriad twinkling lights and sharp details, awakens no feeling akin to those which probably everyone feels when in the twilight of evening plane after plane recedes as one broad flat tint behind the other. Under the bright light of day we may wonder at the richness and plenty upon the earth, we may rejoice in that there are so many curious and pretty things to look at, but these are like the feelings inspired by reading a book on natural history, rather than the emotions created by the perusal of a poem, or listening to sweet music.

Compare for a moment the two photographs, fig. 19 and fig. 20.

The first is by no means an extreme case of the ordinary photograph, and notice that although the composition is fairly good as far as grouping goes, there is an absence of any quality which might make one feel anything outside the bare recognition of the facts depicted, but the second, if it be good at all, must depend for admiration on a certain amount of sentiment which it suggests or creates. You will notice that in the first there is no sense of distance, and although a church tower, behind the masts of the boats, is half a mile or so away it does not possess the "tone" and veiling of atmosphere which would make it appear distant. Every part of the view seems equally near, or nearly so; the eye wanders over the whole, alighting on details here and there which interest and amuse, yet there is an absence of just that breadth which is noticeably present in the second example.

Now let it be distinctly understood that detail, its omission or suppression, and its introduction or sharp delineation, is not a question of lens focus only, or even chiefly, but it is largely a question of light. Imagine the photograph, fig. 19, with the greater part of the detail taken out so that the quay, the houses, the shore, etc. were just broad masses of lighter or darker tone, should we not then get a composition which would be less disturbing, more compact, more concentrated in interest? Is not this the case in fig. 20, in which detail is almost entirely absent? And yet detail could not have been truthfully introduced in this photograph, because with the light in the position it is, and in the misty evening air, _no detail was there to reproduce_; it was the fact that objects ranged themselves in masses one against the other, leaving room for imagination and creating ideas that determined its selection and its consequent portrayal.

In many cases a clear and sharp delineation of details will perhaps be desirable, not, however, for the sake of showing detail, but just so far as the production of the effect may require; on the other hand, just the full amount of detail that a lens will give is by no means always wanted.

_Lenses were not invented for pictorial purposes_, and therefore there is no reason for concluding that what the lens gives is necessarily right, for remember that we started with the distinct understanding that we were merely _applying_ to a certain purpose just so much of the photographic process as we considered we needed; because I have the means of travelling at sixty miles an hour there is no reason why I should not apply the same means of locomotion to coaching a pedestrian at a tenth of that speed if I choose. It may be said that in the two photographs referred to the comparison is not a fair one, because so much depends on the sky. Granted that much in the second example does depend on the sky, which is an essential part of the picture, and indeed one cause of its very existence, but in the other (fig. 19) the presence of clouds would not improve the pictorial faults to which reference has been made. As a mere record or portrayal of Old Woodbridge Quay, the absence of clouds is as much a characteristic of its particular species, as the clouds in the second one are inseparable from its existence.

So, but little more than half hinting at the principles involved in the due suppression of unnecessary details, and the elimination of undesirable objects in order to obtain breadth, and having said but little as to the preservation of correct relative values or tones, I must pass on.

Every corner of nature's broad expanse is, as it were, enveloped in atmosphere, and invisible as we are commonly in the habit of considering it to be, it affects to a greater or less degree everything we see, and the visible atmosphere is often responsible for some of nature's most beautiful and most appealing aspects. Obviously then we cannot afford to leave out so important a contributory to picturesque effect, and it is on this account rather than on account of sharp or un-sharp detail that the question of stops and lens apertures comes in.

Look at the image of a landscape on a moderately hazy day, as it appears on the ground-glass focussing screen of your camera, using the lens at full aperture--then quickly insert _f_/32, and notice the difference. Not alone have objects near at hand and more remote become more sharply or more equally defined, but you may also notice that objects are _more brilliant_, and that a sense of atmosphere has been cut out.

Compare if you will two photographs, the one made respectively with full aperture of _f_/6 or _f_/8 and the other made with _f_/32 or _f_/45, and provided that in the first case we have not actual blurring to the extent of destroying form and structure, does not the first remind you more of nature? I do not say it is so instructive, so surprising, so dainty, or of such exquisite finish, but is it not more reminiscent of the _effects_ we remember to have seen and _felt_ in nature. It is not the function of this article to say to what optical laws this difference is due, and yet the student may expect to receive something by way of practical working instructions.

My recommendation is then to use a single landscape lens or the single combination of a doublet, and in starting to use the full aperture.

With this it may be that when the foreground is moderately sharp, trees more remote are so ill defined as to appear as a collection of little blots and irregular patches. Whilst sharp detail in all places may not be productive of pictorial effect, yet the extreme opposite will be displeasing in another way, and it will be best to secure just _so much definition and no more_ as shall save the representation from appearing to have been wilfully put out of focus--once let the destruction of detail be obvious and we betray the artifice by which we are working, which is just what we should avoid.

In the case just supposed then, we may now introduce the first stop, simultaneously racking the lens in a little until we get middle distance without unpleasantly obvious blurring. The foreground may be a little out of focus, and in practice I find it is rather helpful to general effect if detail is sacrificed more in the foreground than in the middle distance.

This I believe is contrary to the teaching of many, but my feeling is that with a sharply defined foreground the eye is attracted and the interest so far arrested, that it is difficult to travel further and enter into the poetry and sentiment of the scene beyond.

Wide-angle lenses have a double disadvantage, shared in part by so-called rapid rectilinear doublet lenses. In the first place they flatten the view, bringing distant planes to appear as near as the nearer ones, and by including a comparatively wide angle they bring into the plane of the foreground, objects so near that they appear out of proportion, and hence proportions are false when judged as the observer must judge by the standard of visual perspective.

A long-focus, narrow-angle lens necessitates a camera which racks out to a considerable length, and probably a greater extension than any camera in the ordinary way can give, would be an advantage on some occasions.

Passing reference has been made to the interpretation of colours in nature in their true relative value of black and white.

If we have a subject in which brilliant orange-coloured rushes in autumn are seen as glowing bright against a background of dark blue water, and the rushes made still more golden of hue by the ruddy rays of a sinking sun, a difficult case is before us.

Such a case I remember very well in the south of Devonshire, close to what is known as Slapton Ley. It was late afternoon in November, and from over the rounded hills behind me to the westward, the declining sun sent warm red rays on to the belt of faded reeds which stretched out into the expanse of the still land-locked water of the Ley--a great sheet of fresh water which placidly lay under the shelter of the bank of shingle which alone separated it from the ever-restless sea--placidly listening to the ceaseless voices of sea music, and at this particular hour reflecting the sky deep blue and of almost leaden hue--just above the bank rose the full moon, orange in tint, on a background of blue-green sky--the yellow reeds, kindled into glowing amber tints by the sun's rays, flamed out from the deep blue water--yellow the shingle bank against the blue water and green-blue sky, deeper yellow the moon as it rose from out the sea. So grand a scheme of colour that by its side the essays of the most daring painter might well seem feeble, so exquisite a poem that the intrusion of the photographer, analysing the values and tones and calculating his powers of reproduction seemed like sacrilege. In the main it was yellow, orange-yellow, and red standing out as luminous against the deep blue of water and only a little less blue sky. It was gorgeous non-actinic colour appearing as _light_ against a highly actinic but _darker_ colour. The consequence of an indiscreet exposure with an ordinary plate might be anticipated to produce _dark_ rushes against a _pale grey_ background of water, and so probably the very effect we were minded to secure, reversed and dissipated.

This is an extreme case, perhaps, but throughout the whole range of nature the contrasting and blending of adjacent colours is so subtle a thing that I should feel one were throwing away at least a possible advantage by not using colour-corrected or isochromatic plates on nearly every occasion, and in order to get the full advantage of isochromatic plates, I should consider the addition of a yellow screen an essential.

The rapidity of one's plates, isochromatic or otherwise, must be governed entirely by the nature of the subject, as also to some degree must be development and subsequent printing.

In every case I would endeavour to get a comparatively thin negative, with even the portions representing deepest shadows slightly veiled. "Clear glass shadows" is an enormity and an outrage both of science and art; equally are solid high-lights to be shunned. With modern printing methods it needs much less than actual opacity in the negative to produce white paper, and if the picture requires any part of it at all to appear as quite white, no subject will need more than the very smallest region to be so. A general softness and very subtle gradation, with a total absence of "sparkle" and brilliancy in the negative, will yield by at least most processes the most suggestive print, bearing in mind that delicate gradations suggest atmosphere, and atmosphere is one of nature's most precious qualities.

Whilst plain salted papers sensitized with silver present possibilities not yet sufficiently exploited, yet until such time that something more entirely satisfactory in all respects is given us in silver papers, platinotype and carbon, and perhaps also gum bichromate will be the processes most suitable for our purpose. Personally, platinotype has been the favoured medium, being, as I believe, more ductile and more amenable to various methods of control than is generally recognised.

And leaving much more of importance unsaid than space limits admit of my saying, I must leave it.

_A. Horsley Hinton._

_Architectural Photography._

To the majority amateurs, the photographing of architectural subjects presents considerable, and in many cases apparently insurmountable difficulties. Undoubtedly there are difficulties to be grappled with, but they are neither so formidable nor so numerous, but that any ordinary photographer with the average amount of common sense can master them be he so minded.

Unfortunately there are a great many who take up photography as an amusement to whom the slightest departure from the ordinary routine presents a difficulty. It is however to the amateur photographer who desires to be able to portray architecture, be it either of our cathedrals, churches, historic mansions, or places of personal interest, and at the same time wishes to be able to do the subjects fair justice, that it is hoped the following particulars may be of some service.

To the beginner taking up this or indeed any branch of photography, size is of course a great consideration either from the weight carrying or pecuniary point of view. Another reason is the fact that young photographic workers have an idea that the smaller the plate, the easier the working. Sound though this reasoning may appear, nevertheless it is not entirely correct.

As a matter of fact all things being taken into consideration the larger the plate up to 12 × 10 or 15 × 12 employed the more rapidly will the worker progress.

Large plates, especially in architectural work, tend to make the operator more careful and conscientious when out with the camera; and even more so when in the developing room. So much more can be done with a large plate than with a small one; the use of a large plate moreover checks the common failing so prevalent among amateurs of rushing work and recklessly using plates.

Taking all things into consideration, I would strongly recommend the whole plate or 10 × 8 camera to the student taking up this branch of our art.

In selecting a camera purchase a front extending one with bellows only slightly tapering. See that it has both rising and cross movement to the front, and also that the amount of movement in each case is a not too restricted one. Makers, unfortunately, do not give sufficient attention to this matter, the usual rise allowed being very slight whereas it should be at least equal to one-third of the longest way of the plate; even more than this is advantageous if it can be obtained. By the rise I mean the amount of upward movement that can be obtained, the lens being in the centre before starting.

The cross-front should have a movement of about one-quarter of the length of the plate each way.

It may be useful to know that a little more rise can be obtained by the placing of the lens above the centre of the cross-front; reference to the photograph of camera will explain this matter more fully.

The swing-back should be a practical one, working from the centre, and capable of being swung either to or from the lens.

In many of the cheaper front extension cameras it is not possible to use the swing-back when tilting the camera down, only when tilting upwards. The swing-front, although not an absolute necessity, is undoubtedly a movement possessing great advantages, especially when the front is raised rather high, and one is using a lens of limited covering power. This movement should be acquired if possible.

The camera should possess double extension, focussing by rackwork, and having a reversing back so made that it will fit on all ways; it is then possible to draw the slide shutter out in any position.

In selecting a tripod stand purchase one of the kind known as the sliding leg variety, two-fold is better than three, giving greater sliding power. The top of stand should be as large as possible; this is preferable to a turntable, as this piece of workmanship is seldom rigid after a little use, and some difficulty is experienced when trying to spread the legs out rather wide. A two-fold Ashford stand is as good as any on the market.

The blocks herewith illustrate the kind of camera used by myself, and with the exception of the turntable, which is not a great success, it answers all requirements.

In the selecting of suitable lenses a great deal will depend upon the inclination of the purchaser and the depth of his pocket.

There is such a great variety upon the market at the present time, that to the young photographer the buying of the right lenses is somewhat a difficult problem.

The Zeiss series are undoubtedly the finest obtainable and for architectural work are unrivalled, possessing great covering power, good marginal definition, and in fact very fine definition all over the plate. The lenses of this series, although quite new, have met with great favour amongst architectural workers.

They work at an aperture of _f_/18, but I understand that they can be opened to _f_/16 and numbered on the _f_ system. As regards their relative working capabilities they give about the same picture at _f_/32 that the majority of wide-angle lenses give at _f_/64.

The Goerz anastigmats are also another very fine series but do not give anything like the covering power of the last mentioned, and moreover are nearly double the price. Their special merit is that one can work at _f_/8 or _f_/11, and get a picture sharp up to the edges. Taylor, Taylor & Hobson also make a good wide-angle lens, possessing great covering power and at a moderately low price. With one of their nine inch lenses I have covered a plate 12 × 10 inches.

For a whole-plate camera, a useful battery would be a 5 inches, 7-1/2 inches, 9 inches and 12 inches; for 10 × 8, 7 inches, 9 inches, 10-1/2 inches and 14 inches. The three last in each case are the most useful.

Having selected the lenses, another very important point and one not to be decided hastily is the question of levels. Four are required, two circular and two ordinary. They are placed as follows: Fix the circular levels, one on the baseboard near the front of the camera, the other on the top of the back part of camera. The other two should be placed one on the side of the back part and the other on the back of camera just under the reversing back. Care must be taken to purchase slow moving levels as some work so quickly that it is next to impossible to level the camera with them, and as this is one of the most important points in the whole business, too much care cannot be taken in selecting and fixing the right kind of level.

The focussing screen should be ruled as accompanying diagram. This will divide the screen into inch squares, working from the centre, and will considerably assist the photographer in "sizing his subject up."

One other thing required is a set of clamps for binding the tripod legs together. These are, I believe, made by George Mason, of Glasgow, but any dealer will procure them for you.

The use of the right kind of plate constitutes a very important factor in the production of a satisfactory negative, particularly in this branch.

Owing to the greater difficulty experienced in developing extra rapid plates, one generally sees the slower variety recommended. No hard and fast rule can however be laid down. To gain the best result, the plate must be suited to the subject.

For instance, in a very dark interior in which heavy black shadows predominate, many of them appearing much darker than they really are owing to their close proximity to a strong light, the quicker the plate used the better. This tends to break down the harsh contrasts, and at the same time the shadow detail is considerably better rendered.

On the other hand, working in a light interior or one which is flat owing possibly to the large amount of light present, a slower plate can be used with advantage, and, providing the exposure is sufficient the result will be all that is wished for.

Exteriors, particularly those in sunshine, should be photographed on a fairly quick plate. Slow plates, although good, do not yield nearly such good negatives, and unless very fully exposed give excessive hardness.

Taking this class of work all round, the quick plate is the more useful of the two and is undoubtedly the best for interior work, particularly such interiors as one meets in our English cathedrals.

For all subjects possessing strong high-lights, such as windows, stained or otherwise, rapid plates combined with a suitable backing composition yield the best results, and I would impress upon the reader the fact that no plate should ever be placed in a dark slide without being covered at the back with a suitable composition for the prevention of halation.

The value of this agent is distinctly demonstrated by the accompanying illustrations, and I would point out the fact that the negatives were both developed with the utmost care. The unbacked plate was so developed as to prevent the appearance of halation as much as possible, and it will be noticed that all portions of the photograph, other than that where halation has occurred, are nearly as good in the unbacked as in the backed one.

Having obtained all the apparatus and materials, a very good subject to begin on and one giving good opportunities for the exercise of the various movements connected with the camera, etc., is a general view of the choir in some cathedral or church near at hand.

Having erected the camera, the next thing is to decide upon the most pleasing point of view.