If ever I doubted that photography was my calling (which, you can believe I have), this weekend blew those doubts right out of the water.
A month ago, I had mentioned to my dad that I was interested in shooting film photographs for my personal work. I adore my digital cameras, but there is something so tangible and raw about shooting in film, specifically black and white. I love the idea of slowing down and getting back to the foundation of photography, especially black and white film, because it takes a solid understanding of light and tone. My dad suggested that we visit my grandfather. He used to be a photographer and still owns a large collection of retired film cameras.
On Saturday, my dad and I trekked through the rain to my grandpa’s flat where he had prepared a spread of his old cameras for me to look at. I walked into the door, up the narrow staircase, and I was met with the most amazing display of vintage cameras. It was an unbelievable selection of twin lens reflex Rolleiflex, Ansco, Contax, Mamiyaflex cameras, among many other makers. My grandpa had pulled out a handful of his favorites from storage, which was less than one tenth of his full collection.
As I listened to my grandpa talk about his tools, I browsed through some of his work. Amazing would be an understatement. In the piles of paper on his dining room table, there were perfectly lit portraits of people in deep expression, letters of recommendation speaking of the accolades he had achieved, and images of the countless museum displays he had photographed during his career.
Little did I know that my grandpa was not just a “photographer”… he was a PHOTOGRAPHER. As in, he was the official photographer of the deYoung Museum in San Francisco, the only one at the time. To apply for the job, he tested against 80+ other photographers in both photography and darkroom skills and he ranked in the top two. Still, he waited two years before he got the official offer. After he accepted, he occupied that job for 18 years. He photographed displays for museums around the world, and was courted by national museums in both China and Taiwan to work for them also. His work was published in Life, National Geographic, and Time magazines, among many others. My grandpa told me that photographing paintings and sculptures for museums helped him to understand the composition of his own photos; after all, painters are the ultimate experts of composition.
“Photographers these days are picture takers,” he told me as I held one of his old Rolleiflex cameras. “Back in my day, we had to take great pictures, and we had to master the art of processing negatives to develop the most beautiful prints possible.” I discovered that my grandpa had not only been a talented photographer, he was also one of the top darkroom technicians of his time. His darkroom skills earned him the honor of working with Ansel Adams, and he even had developed some of Adams’ prints!
“This one here is a reject,” Grandpa said as he pointed toward his wall where a black and white Yosemite print he had developed for Ansel Adams was hanging. “You can see that the white areas are too white. There should be more detail there.”
Next to the Ansel Adams print hung a Chinese painting with a similar landscape. Both the photo and the painting depicted a vertical composition of a steep, dark and rocky mountain terrain with heavy clouds across the sky.
“Look at the Chinese painting and look at the Yosemite photograph. See how similar they are? There is nothing new in this world that has not been created from something else. You and I, we look at the same things. The difference lies in what we see.” Wisdom from a sage.
With a twinkle in his eye, he handed me a heavy Mamiyaflex camera made of metal. I could tell by the peeling of the black contact paper around its body that this camera had been used many times. ”Now this camera, this is one that you use when you want to look like a professional. Choose this and I’ll give you a set of lenses to go with it.”
Before leaving my grandpa’s flat, I chose three cameras out of his immense collection to keep and use for my own: a very practical 35mm Minolta with dials quite familiar to me, a Mamiyaflex that needed a little TLC, and another twin lens reflex camera of which I forgot the name. I eyed a Contax rangefinder, but that will have to wait for later. Three was more than enough to start with. Grandpa told me he would clean them up and test their functionality for me; it had been decades since they were last used. I left his place without the cameras, but with an immeasurable wealth of knowledge, and unexpectedly, a confirmation that I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. I know there is no such thing as a photography gene. But, after spending time with my grandpa, I now understand why I’m so drawn to this art, as both my father and uncle were too. It’s all in the family… and I’m so happy that it is.
Just a smidgen of his collection below… I know these all look like the same cameras, but they are all different!
The lovely Mamiyaflex above, is the one I will be keeping.
My goodies above. I can’t wait to use them!
And lastly, a blurry photo (the only one I took) of my grandpa.
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