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In the early to mid 20th century, family photo albums overflowed with small black and white pictures taken with Kodak Box Brownie cameras – family portraits, weddings, soldiers in uniform, holiday snaps and so on. The Brownie was launched in the USA in 1900, in keeping with the famous Kodak slogan, “You press the button, we do the rest.” Over one hundred different Brownie camera models were later made, the last being in Melbourne in 1962.
Now, another 60 years on, a group of five Sydney photographers is using Brownie cameras – simple light-tight boxes – to make photographic images which showcase their creative interests. With a fixed aperture, shutter speed and focal length, these old film cameras lack the sophistication of the “press the button” smartphones of the 21st century. Yet, as they hope to reveal in this exhibition, it is possible to make beautiful and engaging art using these time honoured cameras.
The Exhibition will take place between January 6-16, 2022, at the Corner Gallery in Stanmore, NSW.
Opening hours are 12-6pm Thursday – Sunday.
The Corner Gallery Facebook Page
You can check out this page for some more information about the famous Kodak Box Brownies:
https://www.brownie-camera.com/
Below are some examples of the work being exhibited along with some historic Kodak Brownie advertising.
My maternal grandfather, Jack, was a very keen photographer. He developed and printed his own black and white negatives and later moved mainly to shooting colour slides. He took many photos during his WWII service in what was then known as British Palestine. I have previously made a photo book of a selection of these fascinating photos.
I inherited many of Jack’s slides and negatives and several cameras, meters and duplicating tubes. I recently cleaned and tested one of his cameras and shot a roll of film, walking around the back lanes near my home. The camera, a Zeiss Ikon Continette, was first manufactured in the year of my birth, 1958. It is a simple manual 35mm camera with a 45mm coated lens and a distance focus ring marked in feet. I am old enough to reliably guess imperial distances and by selecting an appropriate aperture, most images can be recorded with sharp details.
Using a camera like this is a good reminder that photography is all about getting the right amount of light onto a sensitive surface through a lens set at the appropriate distance. I still like to shoot film and using a camera like this tends to focus the mind in different ways when compared to whipping out a smartphone.
The Continette was one of thousands of “miniature” 35mm camera models developed after WWII as the quality and range of black and white and colour 35mm film improved considerably. You can still find one on eBay for about $60. Some more information about this camera can be found here:
http://elekm.net/zeiss-ikon/continette/
In the 1970s Jack upgraded to a 35mm SLR camera, acquiring a Pentax K1000, one of the great workhorses of amateur photography. There will be another walk around the neighbourhood in future with that camera.
Jack died in 1983, shortly before our first child was born and a new generation commenced. I wonder what he would think about one of his grandchildren taking such an interest in his photography and putting another roll of film through his old cameras. He could be cantankerous at times, so I assume he would simply flash an enigmatic half smile, light another rollie and wander off to his beloved vegetable garden.
Many years ago I came into possession of two half plate glass negatives which I recently resurrected from a bottom draw in the garage and scanned. The scenes appear to be of Burra in South Australia, taken over 100 years ago.
A ‘half plate’ measures 4.75 x 6.5 inches or 12 x 16.5 cm. These negatives were created using the “dry plate”, or gelatin emulsion process, invented in 1871 by Richard Maddox, an English physician. Dry plate, because it superseded the cumbersome ‘wet plate’ collodion process invented 20 years earlier. In simple terms, a solution of silver halides is mixed with gelatin, heated, and poured onto a sheet of clear glass under a red safelight. When the gelatin dries and hardens, a milky white, light sensitive surface is ready to load into a dark slide. The plate can then be exposed to light in a camera and is sensitive primarily to blue and UV light. Exposure time in bright sunlight is usually around 1 second. This was the precursor invention which led to gelatin emulsion being attached to acetate and later PET, forming the roll films which were in common use for over 100 years. Glass plates continued to be used well into the 20th century and there is renewed interest in this and other so-called alternative processes.
Details in the negatives led me to do some research on the companies and locations captured. The hotel was Lord’s Hotel in Burra, South Australia, and exists today as the Burra Hotel. The horse-drawn cab was owned by T.P. Halls and regularly collected passengers from the Broken Hill train in Burra and ferried them around town. A letter to the editor in 1912 by Hall defended his cab prices after complaints from passengers got back to him. In 1915 he advertised for the sale of his business in a Broken Hill newspaper.
The Eyes and Crowle Garage may also have been in Burra as the company had workshops in several towns around Adelaide in addition to its city location. It was a substantial automobile and motorcycle company for about 20 years.
Trove was valuable as a source of information about the two advertising signs hanging from the hotel railing, one for an optometrist and another for a dentist. Laubmann and Pank still exists today as an optician’s business in Adelaide.
H.W.A. Barratt seems to have had a chequered history as a dentist early in his career. He once appeared before a magistrate in 1915 as a complaint was made against him for calling himself a ‘specialist’ when his only qualification was as a labourer! He enlisted in 1918 just as WWI was ending and he is last mentioned in Trove in 1947, advertising himself as a Dental Surgeon, so presumably he picked up some recognised qualifications in time.
I recently decided to make my own quarter plate glass negatives for use in an old camera a friend acquired. It certainly highlights the modern wonders of smartphone photography technology in comparison. Practitioners of techniques involving application of liquid emulsion to plates of glass or metal talk about achieving a “good pour”. This means a consistent, even coating across the whole plate with no gaps or bubbles. On my first attempt with 4 glass plates I may have achieved one good pour, but the proof will emerge after the exposure and development. As for my glass cutting skills, the less said, the better.
It is a lot of fun replicating these past photographic practices but I suspect I am a mere dilettante and ultimately a good pour of shiraz will be all I can master.
Update: I exposed and developed my plates and achieved some acceptable outcomes. Additional images added.
It appears many of us will be spending more time at home in coming months due to COVID-19 restrictions. In response, we are being flooded with suggestions about how to make best use of our social isolation time. A return to some old-fashioned pastimes like cooking, sewing, jigsaw puzzles, cards and board games seems to be popular. Another traditional activity which might be considered is organising some of your old photos. What about that box of old slides, negatives or prints you have always meant to do something about? Perhaps now is the time to drag out that shoe box and take some steps to preserve and share your family history or other precious memories.
Since I started SilverTone Studio, almost everyone I speak to about what I offer has said they have some photographic material they want to scan, preserve or repair. I always encourage them to do something about it but invariably “busy lifestyles” get in the way. Isolation time could provide the perfect opportunity to make a start!
Finally, my respect and gratitude to all those health workers doing their utmost to deal with COVID-19. A recent (non-COVID) emergency admission and four day stay at RPA brought home to me the critical need to flatten the curve. So, stay the f@#k at home – and pull out that box of photo stuff! 🙂
I recently acquired a Kodak ‘Brownie’ camera made several years before I was born. When I came into the world, an authentic brown ‘Brownie’ was used to capture the first photographic records of me. The nickname sprang from the brown leatherette covering the cardboard bodies of some of the earlier models.
The ‘Brownie’ I bought was a relatively modern SIX-20 Model E, made in England, and cost about the same as a Sydney brunch with smashed avocado and a large latte. It was manufactured some time between 1953 and 1957 and has several advanced features such as shutter lock switch, cable release fitting, dual tripod sockets and a pull out yellow filter for darkening the blue sky on a sunny day.
With a fixed focal length, aperture and shutter speed, the ‘Brownie’ was designed for shooting in good daylight on low ISO black and white film. While not versatile, it was capable of taking fine photographs. Millions of photo albums from the mid twentieth century are filled with 21/4 x 31/4 inch contact prints from black and white film shot with a Brownie.
The first ‘Brownie’ was made in 1900. Last century it revolutionised photography for the masses in the same way the smartphone has made everyone a photographer in this century. Now, it’s you press the button, we it does the rest!
Some examples of ‘Brownie’ photos, old and new, appear below.
Me in 1958. Scan of original Brownie contact print photograph. |
My sister, 1964. Scan of original Brownie negative. |
My ‘new’ Brownie – SIX-20 Model E. Made in England c. 1955. |
Photo from the new Brownie, 2019. Approx. 2 sec. ‘bulb’ exposure on tripod. Negative scan. |
Well, it’s back to school for students and teachers in most parts of Australia for another year. As a second grandson starts his 13 year ordeal, I was reflecting on the start of mine in a tiny one teacher school at Warkworth, in the Hunter Valley of NSW, in 1963.
My father was the principal and my teacher for the first five years of my education along with three other boys in my class. All thirty or so students from K-6 were in one big room.
The school rooms and Principal’s residence were in one combined building close to the Wollombi Brook and surrounded mainly by dairy farms and orchards. The school had a large oval and a tennis court and my brother and I spent many happy hours exploring the creek as we got older. We left Warkworth at the end of 1968, after eight formative years there, when my father was appointed to a larger school out West.
I have been back to Warkworth several times since; 1978, 1983, 2001 and most recently in 2017. In 1983 my wife was pregnant with our first child and the school was still in operation and classes were in progress when we arrived. I introduced myself to the Principal and explained my connection to the place, where I now lived, worked and so on. I had recently been promoted to my first management position at IBM. The Principal asked me to give an impromptu address to the students suggesting I emphasise that even if you come from a little school in small rural village, you can still achieve great things in the world!
By 2001 the school had closed and the building had been converted to one home, owned and rented by the coal mining company which had bought up all the former farms. The landscape, now one huge open cut mine, was very unfamiliar and the roads were dominated by large trucks ferrying the black cargo. On this trip I re-created my first day of school photo and made many other photographs of the village and surrounds.
On our last visit in 2017 we had a long conversation with one of the tenants who said they were facing eviction as the open cut mine crept closer to the building. Due to the health risks of coal dust, she was advised the company was unlikely to continue to rent the property and it may become a temporary office or storage facility. Otherwise, it might be demolished.
No doubt I will return to the place of my first day of school in future and reflect again on the influence of the landscape of our childhood on who we have become. You can take the boy out of Warkworth but not Warkworth out of the boy.