Printmaking I

I recently took a short, part-time course during the summer session of the School of the Photographic Arts: Ottawa. I did this for two reasons:

  • To improve my printmaking skills: if a photographic print is to be the output of all or most of the work I produce, I would like to be sure that I am creating prints of high quality. This is all the more important if I am hoping to exhibit or sell printed work at some point. I realise that a lot of what I produce is only ever seen on a screen and that I would like to change this.

  • To help me build my network in the photographic arts community in Canada: one of the clear benefits of studying with the Open College of the Arts is that it can all be done on my schedule without having to relocate. This was particularly important to me because I still had a busy full-time job when I began my studies. And the exposure to UK-based photographers and fellow students has been wonderful. The downside, of course, is that I probably have more connections outside of the country I live and work in than I have within it. It has also been an occasionally isolated road, especially during the last two COVID years. I prefer to work on my own, but even I have my limits.

One of my images I worked on and printed during Printmaking I.

Although Printmaking I only lasted for five three-hour sessions, I found it a real tonic:

  • I learned new techniques and processes to improve the quality of my prints.

  • I was exposed to and impressed by the power of Adobe Photoshop (although I am much more comfortable with Capture One and will continue to use it to edit and print my images. I also own Affinity Photo and will use it to perform any edits that Capture One cannot handle.)

  • I made a connection with SPAO, a small but well-respected school of photography that is the centre of a vibrant community of students and practitioners.

  • I met an excellent instructor and two enthusiastic students who are on their own artistic journeys.

All told, an excellent investment in time and money!

What does “better” mean?

Like many people who enjoy photography, I wonder sometimes if piece of gear X, Y or Z would be better than what I am currently using.

I have been using the Fujinon 18-55mm f/2.8-4.0 zoom lens since I bought my first Fuji in 2013. I have been happy with it and it has spent a lot of time on my cameras, first an X-E1 and now and X-T3. From time to time it has occurred to me that the Fujinon 16-55mm might not only give me a slightly wider angle of view and a constant f/2.8 aperture, but also access to that elusive beast… better image quality.

Of course, “better” means different things in different contexts.

Rather than wonder about it anymore, I decided it was time to rent rather than take the plunge of buying. Vistek Ottawa makes renting easy and a mere CDN$30 let me use the lens for a weekend.

All told, I liked the lens very much but my two conclusions surprised me.

First, using the 16-55mm for two days reminded me why I decided to invest in the Fuji system in the first place: to drastically reduce the weight of the gear I was carrying, especially when travelling. There’s no question that the 16-55 is lovely piece of gear, but my X-T3 felt a bit front-heavy with it and, frankly, I didn’t think I’d want to carry it around all day. And I was losing built-in Image Stabilization (which I really appreciate).

Second, I decided that if I was ever to commit to carrying around heavier equipment I would only do it if it came with a much larger sensor. The kind of sensor you might find in, say, the Fujifilm GFX medium format system.

So, no 16-55mm for me, but an eye open for Fuji’s forthcoming update to the GFX 50s expected for this fall.

In the meantime, here’s an example of what I got up to with that lens on the weekend. It’s a beautiful chunk of glass, but not “better” for my needs and wants.

Fujifilm X-T3 with Fujinon 16-55mm f/2.8 at 16mm

Fujifilm X-T3 with Fujinon 16-55mm f/2.8 at 16mm

Reflecting on the church

It has been a long year since our first COVID Easter, which we observed virtually. And now we have just observed our second. But with the warmer weather coming and vaccination picking up the pace (slowly) in Canada, I dare to hope that 2021 will be a better year for all of us. And perhaps some of us will remember lessons we have learned during this extended time of reflection.

In that spirit, I offer this picture of the church I have attended for 24 years, a fixture in downtown Ottawa since the late 1800s.

Àbadakone | Continuous Fire | Feu continuel

Àbadakone (Algonquin for “continuous fire”) is the second exhibition “in the National Gallery of Canada’s series of presentations of contemporary international Indigenous art, features works by more than 70 artists identifying with almost 40 Indigenous Nations, ethnicities and tribal affiliations from 16 countries, including Canada.”

According to the National Gallery, “the title Àbadakone was provided by the Elders Language Committee of Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg. They felt that its connotation of a fire within each artist that continues to burn would be an appropriate title for the second presentation of this ongoing series of exhibitions showcasing Indigenous art from around the world.”

Indigenous art and culture is drawing a lot of attention in Canada and other countries dealing with the history and ongoing impacts of colonization of the “New World” by European powers.

I found the exhibit exciting as it opens up a broad range of discussions that are important not only for Indigenous people, but for anyone who has an interest in place, identity, the construction and evolution of culture, and the importance of narrative for creating and bearing meaning. The introduction at the entry to the exhibit indicates that the broad theme behind its curation is one of “Relatedness, Continuity and Activation.” In brief, this refers to the interconnection of all things, the links across time and generations, and “how an artist animates a space, an object, or an idea through performance, video or viewer engagement.”

(All images taken on my cellphone.)

For me, there were several threads that ran through the exhibit, particularly the challenges of:

  • colonization;

  • industrialization;

  • globalization;

  • environmental degradation;

  • technology;

  • migration; and

  • tradition.

Without taking anything away from the specific issues and questions facing the Indigenous artists who created these works, it seems to me that many of the challenges are also faced by non-Indigenous people. As a result of the challenges I’ve listed above, very few of us can simply take for granted the place where we stand, the identities we have inherited, the histories that have shaped us or the futures that lie before us. In a time of profound uncertainties, it will be important to draw selectively on our knowledge of the past, on our best understanding of our times and on the most promising paths forward. It is fascinating to see that while Postmodernism rejected meta-narratives, we continue to need overarching stories to interpret the past, create meaning in the present and have hope for the future.

Fog-bound in Ottawa

It’s been quite a while since I’ve gone out with my camera with no other purpose than to see what I can see. When I pick up the camera these days, it’s almost always because I am working on an exercise or assignment for my course. An added bonus this time was the chance to meet up with another local photographer—we’ve been connected by social media for a number of years but have just never met IRL. We came close to meeting once, when we were both at the same invitation-only event and didn’t know it.

Yet another reason to push myself out the door—as if I needed another—was to use my new Fujifilm X-T3. I had bought it a couple of weeks back and it was time to press the shutter in earnest. I am still happy with my little X-E1 and it has served me very well, but I wanted to be able to take advantage of the new tech available in the Fuji system.

The weather was uncharacteristically foggy for this time of year, so what a great opportunity to see familiar parts of Ottawa in a less-familiar way.

All images taken with my Fujifilm X-T3 and Fujinon 18-55mm zoom.


Three exhibits at the National Gallery of Canada: land and landscape

On November 5 I visited three new photography exhibits at the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa. In one way or another, all three were tied to the Canadian landscape whether in the past or currently.

For Canadians who were old enough to read books in 1976, the exhibit Between Friends is a reminder of a book of the same name published as a gift from Canada to the U.S. on the occasion of that country’s bicentennial. For this exhibit, photographer Andreas Rutkauskas revisited many of the locations along the 8,891 km border between the two countries. While much of the geography has not changed, the exhibit contains reminders that crossing the border has become more difficult and formal in recent years because of the rise of protectionism and isolationism in the U.S., and the new geopolitical reality throughout the world. The pictures are subtle and often beautiful and the boundary they point to can seem an artificial and arbitrary one. Why should the living situation of people leaving a couple of hundred metres apart be so different?

A similar theme is evoked in Frontera, a drone’s-eye view of the U.S.’s southern border with Mexico. These pictures, however, do not contain the open spaces and lightly-patrolled woodlands seen in Between Friends. The Mexican border is lined by a steel scar that runs across the landscape for many hundreds of miles through inhospitable wild places, sometimes broken by poor settlements on one side and wealthier communities on the other. More often, though, it is difficult—if not impossible—to tell which side of the frontier is which: the land is the same and it is a political negotiation that has traced a line through it. Looking at many of the pictures by Mexicans Pablo López Luz and Alejandro Cartagena, Canadians Mark Ruwedel and Geoffrey James, Swiss Adrien Missika, American Kirsten Luce and German Daniel Schwarz, it is easy to imagine that one day the land will absorb the border and all human traces will be forgotten.

The third exhibit, Gold and Silver: Images and Illusions of the Gold Rush, provides a photographic record of the stampede for California and Yukon gold in the late 19th century. While we cannot help but wonder at the bravery and greed that drove men and women to seek their fortunes in unforgiving locations, it is impossible to miss the impact on the environment that was the result of unchecked exploitation. Many of the worst cases—deforestation, slag heaps and diverted watercourses—are still there to be seen. The collection is a fascinating set of posters, daguerrotypes and tiny, vintage contact prints but, while image-making technology has moved on, it seems our care for the land has not evolved at the same pace.