While the gutter might be a perfectly hospitable place for my mind, it’s proven to be quite a hostile environment for my photographic prints.
That’s because, more often than not, those prints are destined for publication in ULTRAsomething magazine.
And since ULTRAsomething magazine is a full-bleed, perfect-bound publication, it has a spine that inevitably swallows the centre of every photo that spans it.
Even if I’m not so banal as to place the main subject in the middle of the frame, I’m often banal enough to put some other contextually important object there.
So every time I prepare a new exorcism, I grumble about how many photos get rejected simply because some vital element will disappear into the gutter.
And then I remember I have a website, and that websites don’t have gutters — so any photos with centre-oriented content can be published online and thus remain unscathed and unsullied…
… and all is well…
… until I remember I much prefer the photos be printed, which leads right back to magazines and the same old gutter issue…
… until I remember I could also sell prints, which by their very nature also don’t have gutters…
… and all is well…
… until I remember I don’t have a large enough audience to support a photographic print business…
… and so, instead, I write an article called “The Gutter,” simply so I can moan about it.
ABOUT THE PHOTOS : This is just a random smattering of quickly assembled recent photos, all deemed ‘gutter hostile’ for magazine publication. I probably could have illustrated this article with 80 photos, just from last year alone — such is the extent of this affliction:
Dichotomy was shot in Tokyo using an Olympus OM3Ti with a 40mm f/2 pancake lens on FP4+ pushed to ISO 200, and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
Edo Machine was shot in Tokyo using an Olympus OM3Ti with a 21mm f/3.5 lens on FP4+ pushed to ISO 200, and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
Appropriation was photographed with a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 using HP5+, pushed to ISO 1600 and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50.
Hex Peg, Square Hole was photographed with an Olympus OM3Ti and a 21mm f/3.5 lens on FP4+ pushed to ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:25
20 Naked Men was shot using a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 on HP5+, pushed to ISO 1600 and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50.
Bright Idea was shot on a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 using HP5+ pushed to ISO 1600 and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
Cause & Effect used a Nikon S3 with 50mm f/1.4 on HP5+ at ISO 400. Developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50.
Multitasking was photographed with a Pentax MZ-S with an 85mm f/2.2 Soft lens on HP5+ at ISO 400. Developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
Hardcore was photographed in Tokyo using a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 loaded with HP5+, pushed to ISO 1600 and developed in Microphen stock dilution.
Phoenix in a Nutshell was shot with a Leica M6TTL and a Minolta 28mm f/2.8 Rokkor lens using FP4+ pushed to ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:25.
Forever Diamonded is a Tokyo selfie shot with a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 on HP5+, pushed to ISO 3200 and developed in Microphen stock dilution.
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Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
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ULTRAsomething Magazine | EXORCISM 07 is now available to purchase on the ULTRAsomething store! A mere smattering of its 72 pages illustrates this article.
Apologia
Somewhere between half and two-thirds of the way through shooting photos for Exorcism 07, I made my first post-pandemic trip back to Tokyo. “Wouldn’t it be nice,” I thought, “if I returned with enough photos to complete the issue?” Mission accomplished — and then some.
Upon finally developing, scanning, and processing all the film it became clear — not only had I enough photos to complete the magazine, but I had enough to dedicate an entire issue to the trip. The question was: should I?
The idea behind each Exorcism is that it represents my thoughts and tendencies during the previous few months. Committing an entire Exorcism to a mere nine-night window felt like a denial of the three months spent shooting before then. But if my prevailing thought is to create an issue dedicated entirely to Tokyo, and if the goal of the magazine is to represent my current thinking, the answer becomes: why shouldn’t I?
So all those Vancouver shots I tossed in the pool, both before and after Tokyo, will just have to tread water until Exorcism 08. Because Exorcism 07 is, indeed, devoted entirely to nine November nights in Tokyo.
Particulars
One of the advantages of having made so many trips to Tokyo is that I now photograph the city more like ‘myself’ and less like a ‘tourist.’ This is particularly true at night, which is when Tokyo truly becomes ‘mine’ and the photos seem to enter the camera without any conscious effort on my part.
My love for Tokyo, coupled with whatever freaky sort of spiritual connection I have with the place, makes this easily the most sentimental exorcism so far. It’s also the most gear-economical issue ever, with the entire magazine spewing forth from a mere four cameras. The vast majority came from an Olympus OM-3Ti and the Fuji Natura Black 1.9, though a pair of shots from the Fujifilm Rensha Cardia BYU-N 16 golf camera and two bona fide digital photos (from the Ricoh GRIII) found their way into the pages, though neither are included with this article.
As luck would have it, Akio Nagasawa Gallery in Aoyama was exhibiting the release of Daido Moriyama’s Record No. 58, and all past issues were available for sale. Seeing as how Record was the inspiration for my Exorcisms, it was truly humbling to come face-to-face with the demonstrable evidence of just how far behind I am. Not only is Moriyama fifty-one issues ahead of me, but I haven’t yet had a single gallery showing for a single Exorcism. I’m now accepting emails from any gallery owners wishing to rectify this obvious oversight.
I also visited Akio Nagasawa Gallery in Ginza, and took a photo of the stairwell leading up to it — only to realize some time later that I’d seen this same stairwell in Moriyama’s Record No. 50 — albeit mine was taken sans female model. My image, though not included with this article, is available in Exorcism 07 for those wishing to contrast and compare with Moriyama.
Exorcism 07 is now for sale in the ULTRAsomething STORE.
REMINDER : If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
COMMENTS : Comments will be moderated before they’re posted to the website, and commenting will be disabled on any article more than 6 months old.
I’ve heard the legends — handed down orally, generation-by-generation — of a curious race of humans who profess to find joy, peace, and harmony through the simple act of manual film development. Alas, I am not so spiritually attuned. For me, developing film isn’t zen, it’s drudgery. But it’s a necessary means to an enjoyable end, which is a photograph that looks the way I want it to look. And since I’m a total control freak when it comes to making my photos look the way I want them to look, there’s no way I’m sending my film to a lab… not only does that result in relinquished control (and quality) but also relinquished cash — which is nearly as undesirable.
Admittedly, in the general scheme of horrors best avoided, standing over a kitchen sink and hand-inverting a tank every minute doesn’t really rate a mention. But having to do it was always obnoxious enough that it would sometimes make me grab a digital camera from the shelf when I knew I’d much prefer the photos from a film camera.
A couple years ago, after halving the drudgery by turning over a portion of my condo to a dedicated digital camera scanning station, I next tackled the developing hassle by purchasing a B’s processor. The B’s proved to be a lifesaver — quite literally in fact, given that I no longer had to stand around inverting the tank while the film developed and fixed. The machine did the agitation for me, while I turned my attention to other mundane tasks like cataloging the negatives. It also enabled me to partake more liberally in some extreme push developing, since I rarely have the patience to spend 30 minutes or more inverting a tank.
My film output increased dramatically since I purchased the B’s and, truth be told, I’d probably have been just fine using it ’til the day I join Plus-X and Neopan 1600 in the great beyond. But why settle for “fine” when “grand” is within reach? Hence my decision to purchase the Vintage Visual AGO Film Processor.
On paper, the two devices are rather similar. Both are simply motors designed to provided constant agitation by rotating the film in a tank of solution. The B’s does it by rotating the entire tank; the AGO does it by rotating the reels within the tank. It’s a subtle difference, but there are advantages and disadvantages to each.
Because the B’s rotates the entire tank, you can use most any type of processing tank you like. Unfortunately, my 2-reel stainless tanks were too small for the B’s, and I have a general dislike for Paterson tanks, so I opted for JOBO tanks, which were a nice compromise.
The AGO, on the other hand, forces you to use Paterson tanks, which is precisely why I ignored it upon introduction. Capping and uncapping the Paterson every time you swap chemicals, and the general leakiness of the lid during inversion is what drove me to stainless and JOBO tanks in the first place. Sure, I could have just used the designated swizzle stick, but I preferred my film shaken and not stirred. Upon further investigation, I realized the AGO actually eliminates use of the Paterson lid. The tank is placed horizontally in the motor and you pour and drain the chemicals with the processor attached (using a custom modified Paterson funnel, provided with the AGO). This has reduced my grumbling about Paterson tanks to the point I now only impugn them for their ridiculous size. A 2-reel tank barely fits in my vintage Noritsu film loading dark box. But barely isn’t doesn’t, so I live with it.
So what drew me to the AGO? A few things: 1) As touched on above, there is no capping/uncapping the tank to swap chemicals. It’s a little thing, but it makes the whole process so much cleaner and quicker. 2) It has a built-in timer. Again, this is more nicety than necessity, but instead of using a separate darkroom timer on my iPhone, the machine itself times the stages. 3) It’s programmable. This is the AGO’s big advantage. A built in thermometer constantly reads the temperature of your chemicals, and (if you desire) auto-compensates the time up or down based on that temperature.
Speaking of auto-adjusting the time, the AGO will also auto-reduce black & white processing times should one forgo pre-soaking the negatives. Since the AGO is designed primarily for horizontal tank orientation (without a lid), the tank cannot be filled completely when agitated, as I would normally do with any pre-soak. Sure, I could perform the pre-soak agitation with the tank vertically positioned, but I chose to go “all in” on simplicity and eliminate the pre-soak. Doing so requires a 15% reduction in development time but, again, no calculator is necessary. The AGO does the calculations for me, and adjusts the timer accordingly.
So the end result is, if it’s 22 degrees in my condo, and I want to develop HP5+ at ISO 400, I don’t have to whip out the calculator to subtract one chunk of time for the temperature increase and another 15% for the rotational agitation. Instead, I just pick my custom “HP5/400 in Rodinal” program from the AGO’s menu and let the machine perform the math and stop the process itself.
I use the Ilford method to wash my film, so there are still a couple tanks of water to cap and invert at the end of the developing process. But by then, it’s only water coating my hands and not chemistry, so I find the Paterson less annoying.
I’ll admit, there’s a sort of Kickstarter-ish lack of refinement to the AGO — mostly in the way you need to enable it as a local wifi server in order to update the firmware or enter your own developing recipes. Mechanically, I feel it could use a slightly bigger lip around the well into which you pour the chemicals, and the way the tank seals against the processor requires rapt attention to prevent leaks. Also, the machine comes with a poorly placed USB port (used for charging the internal battery and not, sadly, for communicating with the unit). So, in order to prevent liquid from inadvertently finding its way into the processor, the AGO ships with a teeny tiny little silicon plug, which you are guaranteed to lose. I’m pretty sure, in 6 months, every AGO in existence will have duct tape covering the USB port. Also, I should mention that the first unit I received failed a mere hour after I received it. But on the plus side, Vintage Visual seems to be aggressively updating the firmware (twice already since my purchase), so they’re standing behind the product.
If you’re only processing B&W film, like me, then the AGO is really more about quality of life. It just makes things a tad simpler, cleaner and faster than using the B’s. But simpler, cleaner and faster are all keys to me wanting to shoot even more film, so it has a definite positive impact on my photography. Were I a colour shooter, the AGO’s benefits would become far more obvious, as the built-in temperature and time-compensation eliminate the need to plunge a sous vide, all my chemicals, and the tank itself into a big temperature-maintained water bath. Instead, one could just heat the chemicals, then let the AGO auto-compensate the time as the chemicals cool. In fact, even though I have zero interest in colour photos, I keep toying with the idea of running at least a few rolls of colour through it — just because I can!
Truth is, no one really needs an AGO — particularly if they shoot exclusively in black & white. But now that I have one, there’s no way I’m willing to return to a life without it.
ABOUT THE PHOTOS : I suppose convention dictates that any article involving a discussion of photo gear should include photos taken in conjunction with said gear. That said, photos processed with the AGO should be indistinguishable from any other photos I develop via any other means — but what the heck? Gotta give the people what they want! So this essay’s accompanying photos (except for the digital product shot) were all developed with the Vintage Visual AGO Film Processor. Other than that, gear-choices are as varied as usual:
Butterfly was shot with an Olympus OM3Ti using a 21mm f/3.5 lens on FP4+ at ISO 200, and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
Arrival is from a Fujica Drive half-frame, shot on Fomapan 400 at ISO 200 and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
Foreshadowing is from an Olympus M-1 (precursor to the OM-1) using a 40mm f/2 lens and Fomapan 400 shot at box speed, and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
Out For In is from a Nikon 28ti, shot on Fomapan 400 at ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
Parallendicular came out of a Nikon S3, fronted with a 50mm f/1.4 lens, and shot on Fomapan 400 at ISO 250, which was developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50
To Go is from a Fuji Natura Black 1.9, shot on HP5+ at ISO 3200 and developed in Microphen stock.
REMINDER : If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
COMMENTS : Comments will be moderated before they’re posted to the website, and commenting will be disabled on any article more than 6 months old.
Astute readers realize that the first of the month is usually the day I publish a new, witty, thought-provoking article chock-full of scrumptious photos. At least the semi-astute realize this. The truly astute realize only the timing aspect of that sentence is accurate. The subjective element is definitely a personal delusion, which I’m able to maintain by a failure to revisit any of my old posts after publication — allowing me to keep the whole witty and scrumptious fantasy alive.
This month, however, I have no such narrative to maintain because I simply haven’t the time for droll humour nor succulent photos. I’ve just travelled to Tokyo for my first trip in five years, and finally made good on my 2019 pledge to basically shoot only film on my next visit. Back then, I thought that next visit would occur in 2020 and not 2024, so I’ve made a few changes to my 2019 film pledge. Originally, I’d planned to take an M6-TTL and a TC-1. But here, in the reality of 2024, the M6 turned into an Olympus OM-3Ti and the TC-1 became a Fuji Natura Black 1.9. I was also coerced into taking the Fuji BYU-N 16 golf camera just to screw with my mind.
I’m now back from Japan with half-a-bag full of film to develop, scan and process — a time consuming endeavour, which prevents their inclusion in this article. Fortunately, I did find a sliver of extra space in my bags, and filled it with the little Ricoh GRIII, which I used only twice: once for an hour on the second night, when I mistakenly grabbed it instead of the Natura Black; and once for the final hour before coming home, when all my film cameras were packed. So all of this article’s accompanying photos sprang forth from those two short Ricoh sessions.
Illustrating a post with only digital photos does feels a little ULTRA-2009-ish to me; particularly since I’ve shot 99% of my photos on film these past several years. Also much like a 2009-ish article, they aren’t a very compelling collection of pixels, but they do effectively illustrate the point of this article: which is that it has no point. But at least, by posting something, I continue to honour my pledge (made 16 years ago) to never go a calendar month without penning a new article. Granted, I publicly relieved myself of this requirement nearly 7 years ago, but I still honour it out of… um… actually, I’m not sure why I continue to honour it.
I’ll be developing and scanning Tokyo negatives for the next several weeks. Hopefully, some will be good enough to propagate my “scrumptious photos” delusion, and maybe even trigger a witty and thought-provoking article idea. More likely, I’ll just be making excuses for a failure to live up to this ideal. It is, after all, what I seem to do best.
ABOUT THE PHOTOS:Home: Dogenzaka, Potato, and Shibuya: East Side were all shot with the Ricoh GR III on the night I accidentally grabbed it off the coffee table, instead of the Fuji Natura Black 1.9. Eatin’ and Steppenwolf were also shot with the Ricoh GR III, but in the afternoon before boarding the train to Narita. Come to think of it, Bar Graph of Developer Processes was also photographed with the Ricoh GR III, but its sole purpose is to document a subset of the backlog of film currently waiting to get dunked in developer and spun on my B’s Processor.
REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
Several years ago, in a mistaken belief that a bit of re-branding might improve this site’s popularity, I re-designed the ULTRAsomething logo and even went so far as to create an ULTRAsomething tagline. I figured if ’Just do it’ worked for Nike and ’Finger lickin’ good’ worked for Kentucky Fried Chicken then, perhaps, a snazzy slogan might just work for li’l ol’ me.
After giving it a good two or three minute modicum of mental might, I landed on ‘Palpably Existential’ — which shone brighter beneath the glow of creation than it did on the actual website. As a consequence, by the time I got around to re-coding all the pages, I’d axed the tagline.
The slogan also failed to find its way onto most of ULTRAsomething’s social media platforms. I just checked Twitter/X, and see I’m still using my original tagline — ’Writer. Photographer. Composer. Human. Being.’ — which wasn’t so much a tagline as me just filling in some blank fields when I first opened the account. Curiously, I did add the slogan to my Bandcamp page, where it makes the least amount of sense. I don’t know about Facebook; I can’t be bothered to log in and check.
Any and all printed collateral also remained tagline-free — with the sole exception of my business card, where the slogan boldly appears. But since business cards are basically a relic of an earlier time and place, they’ve gone mostly undistributed. In the scant few situations that did demand an exchange of cards, the tagline was often met with a furrowed brow and a question about the slogan’s meaning.
So recently, I decided to gather all I’d learned from the last tagline debacle and apply it to the modern world. First thing I decided was that an ULTRAsomething T-shirt would be far preferable to an ULTRAsomething business card. It’ll be seen by more people, and if anyone wants to check out the site, they can just whip out their iPhone and photograph my shirt.
The second thing I decided was that the old slogan no longer applied. The dearth of people during COVID had decimated the palpability of my “existential” photography, as had shifting societal views around street candids. Instead, I’m now embracing the random chaos of whatever hits my film, which seems more like a mild mental disorder than actual existentialism.
And third, maybe having a ridiculous slogan that people don’t understand isn’t really the smart way to go…
So with these parameters in mind, I applied a two or three minute modicum of mental might to the solution, and came up with: ‘ULTRAsomething: Entropic Capitulation’.
I’ll admit right off the bat that yes, I failed miserably at the third task, which dictated I do not adopt a ridiculous slogan. But at least all the other parameters were met. It definitely applies (ridiculous or not) to the current direction in which my photography has drifted, and sure-as-shootin’, I slapped that sucker on a single, long sleeve T-shirt.
Whether or not the tagline finds its way onto the actual website is probably more a function of me being too lazy to re-code the site, and not commentary on the new tagline.
Is it as good as ‘Just do it’ or ‘Finger lickin’ good’? Well, I think so, given that I’ve never once owned anything Nike, nor ever purchased my own bucket of chicken from KFC.
I guess the question now is “do I branch into the fashion industry?” The one off that is the current ‘Entropic Capitulation’ T-shirt is, by definition, an item of couture fashion. Apparently, the ‘something’ in ‘ULTRAsomething’ might have just gotten another notch somethingier.
‘Reticulation‘ was photographed on a Leica M6 TTL using a Leica 28mm f/2.0 Summicron lens — a vast amount of fidelity considering it was shot on some dubiously stored HIE Infrared film that expired 24 years ago. Exposed at ISO 400. Developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50.
‘Dispersal‘ was shot with a Canon Demi EE17 half-frame camera on HP5+, exposed at ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50.
‘Glitch‘ was photographed with a Contax G1, which was fronted with a Contax Zeiss Biogon, using HP5+ at ISO 400, and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50.
‘Babel‘ was shot on a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 using HP5+ exposed at ISO 3200, and developed in Ilford Microphen.
‘Mon Pitou‘ was photographed on FP4+ at ISO 200 on a Konica Recorder half-frame camera, and developed in Rodinal (Blazinal) 1:50.
REMINDER : If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
Two years worth of precious collagen has packed up and fled my body since I first published ULTRAsomething magazine’s premier exorcism. Back then, my naive and grandiose intent was to follow the paper release with a digital vBook once the issue had sold out. Unfortunately, Exorcism 01 didn’t sell out, so I never bothered to create a video version. But now, at last, I’m pleased to finally announce that the premier issue has… well… OK… there are still two copies remaining as I write this. But screw it — I’m tired of waiting.
So here it is: the long awaited (if only by me) digital vBook of ULTRASOMETHING | EXORCISM 01. It’s mastered in 4K, so I encourage you to watch it fullscreen and through a quality audio system. Anyone watching on a smartphone will receive my virtual scorn.
Curiously, my original concept for the magazine was that it exist only as a digital vBook — but I knew I’d forever regret that decision. There’s just something so satisfying about large, printed photos bound together in a volume. The tactility invites engagement and begets value. Plus, 6 million ink dots per image simply annihilates the quality of 1 million glowing pixels on a panel. Six exorcisms later, and I’ve never once regretted that decision.
Though I can’t promise I won’t inconceivably achieve fame and notoriety, and thus one day order a re-print, I can promise that this first printing can, by nature, be the only first edition. So if you want one of the two remaining copies, please send me an email before ordering, so I can confirm actual availability. My shopping cart is way too rudimentary to track inventory and remove the “buy” button automatically. Such luxuries also require the aforementioned fame and notoriety.
And should you be reading this from the future, and feel saddened to have missed out on the first edition of ULTRAsomething EXORCISM 01, I’ll remind you there are subsequent first edition EXORCISMs still available for purchase. Unless, of course, you’re so far in the future that my flesh has long since followed my collagen, and exited my skeleton. In which case, I invite you to visit eBay and purchase a copy from one of my original customers at what, I assume, will be a vastly inflated price.
NOTE: ULTRAsomething | EXORCISM 01 is now sold out.
ABOUT THE vBOOK :This vBook is sequenced in exactly the same order as the magazine, including the side-by-side pairings of single page photos. The accompanying soundtrack was realized mostly with a Buchla Music Easel and Moog Muse synthesizer, with additional contributions from a Sequential Pro-3, Oberheim OB-6, Novation Peak, and a tiny smattering of software bits to glue it all together for sequencing in Final Cut Pro.
REMINDER : If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
I’m getting pretty good at this publishing thing. Or maybe it’s just that I’m getting pretty good at self-delusion. Either way, I’m quite happy with the release of Exorcism 06 — the photo selection; the pacing; the look and feel — all are quite satisfying. The only thing I’m not satisfied with is the knowledge that, thanks to rising production costs, I’ll lose even more money on this issue than the previous ones. I may indeed be getting good at the publishing thing, but the publishing business? Not so much.
Perhaps I can fix the “business” aspects with “marketing.” One problem that’s long plagued me is figuring out how I should refer to the publication. I get a little twitchy every time I use the word “magazine.” To me, that implies something that’s mass-produced and sold in the checkout line next to the Tic Tacs, or bundled with a free clock radio when purchasing a 2-year subscription. But I’ve been equally loath to use the word “zine,” since that suggests dubious print quality, cheap paper, a drastically reduced page count, and a stapled binding — none of which define this particular publication. As a product, the exorcisms always seemed awkwardly between these two words. Which is exactly why I’ve decided to split the difference and begin referring to it as a ‘gazine’. Clearly, the word “gazine” implies something more premium than a “zine” but less assembly line than a “magazine” — exactly what I’m publishing.
Exorcism 06, like most of the gazines before it, was shot entirely on film, using a multitude of cameras. Eighteen of them to be exact. They are: Canon Demi EE17, Contax G1, Fuji GS645S Wide 60, Fuji Natura Black 1.9, Konica Hexar AF, Konica Recorder, Leica IIIc, Minolta TC-1, Nikon 28Ti, Nikon S3, Olympus OM-3Ti, Olympus Pen FT, Pentax 17, Pentax MX, Pentax MZ-S, Petri Compact E, Ricoh Auto-Half, Zeiss Werra 3.
And, just like every gazine that preceded it, Exorcism 06 concludes with its own apologia, reprinted below:
I’ve always assumed that my mood dictates the sort of photos I take. Sad mood, gloomy photos. Buoyant mood, cheerful photos. Turns out that theory is nothing more than a cabinet full of crockery.
I possess the ability to see an old photo — no matter how long ago it was shot, or where — and immediately recall the psychological state under which I took it. I’ll remember what I was feeling and thinking at that particular moment, and why. Curiously, I’ve come to realize there’s little, if any correlation between a photo’s actual character and the emotional conditions from which it sprang.
This became even more obvious while assembling Exorcism 06. The issue draws from a pool of film photos I shot in Vancouver these past several months. It was one of life’s rather turbulent periods, populated with stress, sadness, anxiety, hope, fear and happiness — and my emotional state swung wildly between them. But there remains no visual association between a photo’s mood and my own. Sure there are cheerful photos, but they were shot during both sad and buoyant times, as were the gloomy photos.
Perhaps it’s good that individual photographs remain inscrutable and any temporary mood swings visually agnostic — it allows each issue to stay coherent and cohesive. Even if the photographer wasn’t.
Exorcism 06 is now for sale in the ULTRAsomething STORE. It’ll slot nicely on the shelf between your zines and your magazines.
REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
Golf. On my life’s lengthy list of interests, it lies just below collecting doilies and just above… well… OK, nothing has ever been less interesting to me than golf.
Obviously, I have no problem with others enjoying it, and I personally know many who do. Humanity’s diversity makes the world an interesting place, so I make no judgement about the pastime of others, much as I hope they make none of mine, which clearly involves taking photos that almost no one else on the planet would ever choose to take.
That said, I will admit to having quietly lusted over one piece of golfing equipment for the past couple of decades: The Fuji Rensha Cardia BYU-N 16 golf camera. It’s a mouthful of a product name, but the clue to its objective lies in its decidedly laborious moniker. Rensha means rapid fire in Japanese, and Cardia obviously has something to do with timing. Byun is Japanese onomatopoeia for the sound of something flying through the air at a fast speed — like, say, a golf ball — while the number 16 tells us both the number of lenses on the front of the camera and the number of consecutive frames it shoots.
Head to the driving range, and tee up a ball. Enlist either the camera’s built-in self-timer or your golfing buddy to press the shutter once at the start of your swing. The camera does the rest — firing off 16 perfectly-timed shots spread across two standard 35mm frames. The point of such banality is not to take the world’s most boring photographs, but to analyze your golf swing and hopefully make corrections. That, and that alone, is pretty much the sole reason for this camera’s existence.
In fact, so singular is its purpose that there are little golfer logos adorning both the body and the LCD panel, along with a shutter button that’s dimpled to resemble a golf ball. I’m guessing the camera’s curious tealish/bluey colour is meant to complement the ridiculous golf clothing once popular in the 20th century. The back is fully adorned with text — which appears to be the entire owner’s manual, written solely in Japanese. This was a camera never intended to be marketed or sold outside Japan.
You’re probably asking yourself how someone with zero interest in golf could desire a camera designed specifically for and marketed exclusively to golfers. The most obvious reason is that its 16 sequential frames can be assembled into little low-fidelity animated GIFs, and indeed when I first acquired it, animated GIFs were a primary intent. But two things happened: 1) I decided I’m generally too lazy to stack, crop, align and animate the 16 frames; and 2) I discovered I liked taking multiple shots of the same subject and presenting one of the two frames in its entirety — a sort of instant Warhol machine.
The more I photograph with the BYU-N, the more I fall in love with it. Planning out single frame sequences has unlocked yet another avenue of creative exploration, and I feel like I’ve tasted only the first drop of an ocean of possibility. One has absolutely no control over the camera’s single shutter speed (1/250s), its single aperture (f/9.5), or its fixed single focus distance (however far away the golfer needs to stand in order to fit entirely in the frame). The only things you control is where you point it, and how long you feel like swishing around the exposed negatives in a tank of Rodinal.
The camera exposes two frames per sequence, with the first 8 exposures running across the top of the two frames, and the second 8 exposures running across the bottom. This means that no one frame has a single uninterrupted sequence. Frame 1 has shots 1-4 on top and 9-12 on the bottom. Frame 2 has shots 5-8 on top and 13-16 on the bottom. I find the act of planning around the non-linearity to be quite creatively satisfying.
Factor in an additional curiosity, in which the four edge photos on a frame are a different size and aspect ratio than the four centre photos, and the compositional choices become intoxicating. It’s cameras like this that make me truly mourn the rise and dominance of digital, when film is so much more malleable and open to experimentation.
I’m sure many will be baffled by my liking these photos, just as I’m baffled by their liking golf. But maybe they’ll find something appealing about them, much like I found satisfaction repurposing one of golf’s sillier accoutrements. It’s now got me thinking of all the alternative uses one might make of an old 9 iron.
With the exception of the photo showing the actual camera, all photos (and GIFs) were taken with a Fujifilm Rensha Cardia Byu-N 16 using either FP4+ or HP5+ and developed in Blazinal (Rodinal) 1:50.
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Sixteen years ago, when this site began, folks still took photos with cameras rather than those little narcissism dissemination devices (NDDs) through which they now curate their alternate realities. In the ensuing years, not a single month has passed without my publishing both an article and a collection of new photos — each its own magnet for a mountain of incoming hostility. But these days, with fewer readers than the average mid-level 2nd grader, the once rampant negativity has vanished — I’m simply no longer popular enough to be hated.
Negativity is one of the most rampant of human diseases, or rather it’s a side effect of the true disease — insecurity. In my experience, the vast majority of negativity is simply defensive posturing. Which makes me wonder why people are always so afraid of disdainful criticism — it’s never about them. It just means someone else is so insecure about themselves that the easiest way for them to feel superior is to diminish those around them. Negotists, I call them.
I’m constantly amazed this works. Back when the site was quasi-popular, I used to laugh at all the horrible things said about me, my writing, or my photography. People took it personally — as if I was the cause of their failure to achieve an equal level of quasi-popularity.
Negativity is the quickest route to establishing an illusion of superiority, because it works on several levels.
The first and most obvious level, is it establishes the hater as ‘judge.’ Being the judge implies knowledge and experience, and thus the arbiter of taste. So the mere act of declaring oneself ‘judge’ is a self-fulfilling ego boost.
But judges can render verdicts both positive and negative, so why does negativity dominate all such decisions? That’s negativity’s second level — fear. While negotists gleefully heap disdain on others, their ultimate fear is that it be heaped on them. By assessing everything negatively, they’re protected from attracting any negativity themselves. The moment you praise something or defend something, you become linked to it, and you become a target for anyone else who wishes to heap negativity on it. Because the last thing the negotists want is negativity directed at them, they remain negative about everything. Once you profess to like or admire something, the millions who ridicule it will now ridicule you for liking it.
It is cowardice, pure and simple.
Still, most people don’t enjoy being bullied, and most people don’t like pouring their heart and soul into something only to have it ridiculed. This is another case where I’m glad I’m not most people.
I learned decades ago that my fear of being ridiculed, scorned, or hated was because I, myself, was unsure of my creation. If I created something that I didn’t personally believe was the best it could be, then there was a nagging fear that I might be ‘discovered’ as a fraud. So when someone dumped on a creation I didn’t fully believe in, it felt as if I’d been exposed.
The best way to become impervious to negativity is simply to create work that pleases yourself. The moment we create to please others, we open our psyches to the damaging effects of negativity. But if it’s for yourself; if you know it’s good; if it’s true to the vision you had; if you can look upon it and say, “yes, they can put this in my biography” — then you become negativity proof.
Over the past couple of decades, the vast majority of negativity directed at my work has been blind criticism, adjudicated by people who didn’t even attempt to engage with it. How blind? Consider the fact that, a decade ago, one of the most common complaints about me as a photographer was that I would jump out in front of people, fire off a flash in their face, and photograph them looking frightened. In actuality, I’ve no photos of people looking frightened; have never once leapt at anyone; nor used a flash on the streets more than 2 or 3 times in 32 years — and even then, never on a human.
Countering these oceans of negativity is a tiny puddle of excessively effusive praise. This too should be ignored, for it’s also born from insecurity — particularly in the art world, where no one wants to admit they’re fraudulent, and everyone is fearful of being perceived as anything less than intellectual. So praise is often piled onto the most mundane art — simply for fear that a negative opinion could be construed as uncool or uninformed. It’s why there’s so much pretentiousness in the art world — though in this case, the tables turn and it’s the creator who looks down on the judges with disdain.
So what’s a poor besieged creative to do? How does one combat all these opinions? Simple: ignore all of them. The only opinion that matters is yours. If you’re unsure, don’t publish. If you are sure — send it into the world. The negotists and the glommers-on will do their thing regardless. But because you’re sure, you’re immune to the clueless hyperbole of others. And once enrobed in this immunity, you will create work that matters.
And remember — the more people who tell you how horrible you are, the more successful you are. An absence of negativity does not mean you are loved. Rather, it means you’re insignificant. And who wants to be insignificant? I certainly don’t. And that’s why I miss the hatred.
‘Editorial‘ was photographed on a Leitz Minolta CL fronted with a Minolta 40mm f/2 Rokkor lens on Fomapan 100, and developed in Black White & Green.
‘Haute Couture‘ was shot with a Lomography Sprocket Rocket on HP5+ @ ISO 400 and developed in Black White & Green.
‘Heart Attack‘ was shot with an Olympus OM-2n, fronted with an 18mm f/3.5 Zuiko lens on HP5+ @ ISO 400 and developed in Black White & Green.
‘Adjudication‘ was also shot on an Olympus OM-2n loaded with HP5+ @ ISO 400, but was fronted with a 50mm f/1.8 lens and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
‘Urban Outfitters – Fall Collection‘ was shot with a Fuji Natura Black 1.9 on HP5+ @ ISO 1600, and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
‘Phosphorescence‘ was photographed with a Leica M6TTL using a TTA 50mm f/0.95 lens on FP4+ @ ISO 200 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
‘Natural Ingredients’ used a Lomography Sprocket Rocket, and was shot on FP4+ at ISO 200 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
‘An Enshrouding‘ used a Pentax MZ-S fronted with a Pentax-M 120mm f/2.8, and was shot on HP5+ @ ISO 400 and developed in Blazinal 1:50
‘Iconoclast‘ was shot on a Leitz Minolta CL fronted with a 40mm f/2 Rokkor lens on FP4+ @ ISO 200, and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
REMINDER : If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
Entropy, crucial to the second law of thermodynamics, suggests that over time, an ordered system will always evolve into random chaos. Because this is, in fact, the definition of equilibrium, I feel somewhat comforted to know I may well be one of the most balanced men on the planet. Apparently age does have its benefits. Though I’ll admit, all this disorder and chaos doesn’t really feel as stable as the math suggests.
Entropy has a way of sneaking up on a fellow. It doesn’t seem all that long ago when random bursts of chaos would disrupt my life only once or twice a week. Then, in a flash, it became once or twice a day; then once or twice an hour. Now chaos is so prevalent that order has become the anomaly, if any exists at all. Basically, my days consist of sitting at my computer waiting for new crap to go wrong, while working to rectify the crap that just went wrong seconds earlier.
Still, I do sometimes wonder whether chaos is really on the rise, or if there’s something else afoot.
Does life really become more chaotic as we age? Or is it just our perceptions that change? Certainly, worming one’s way out of the womb qualifies as an upheaval. As is being forced to play with other imbecilic toddlers at the local playground. All life is turmoil. School begets jobs. Dating begets marriage begets divorce. Bills? Taxes? Bosses? Employees? Everyone screwing up. Everything breaking. It does seem as if chaos has always been abundantly present.
Perhaps chaos is a steady stampede, but it arrives faster than we can wrangle order, so it accumulates — occupying an ever more ominous percentage of our lives.
Maybe it’s the mortality factor? When we’re young, our whole life is still in front of us — so it seems like we have all the time in the world to address the chaos, like it’s something we can deal with tomorrow. But tomorrow always comes. And when it does, so does the realization that we’re rapidly running out of tomorrows.
Or maybe we just become less physically equipped to deal with it? Once one begins to succumb to the desire for an afternoon nap, one’s probably not as vital as they were in their 20’s. So perhaps the chaos only seems more prevalent because it requires a larger percentage of one’s actual physical and mental reserves.
Then again, I suppose any such inability to deal effectively with chaos is, itself, just another form of chaos. And if the last several years are any indication, it’s going to be a pretty wild ride from here on out. So if entropy is as real as the hoity-toity physicists suggest, there’s no use fighting. It’s inevitable. Strap in, hang on, and enjoy the view of order scattering asunder.
Apparently the universe is an avid ULTRAsomething reader. Who knew? The very act of uploading the first draft of this article caused some sort of catastrophic site failure, requiring several hours of research, tech support discussion, and a bunch of coding just to bring the site back online. Thanks, entropy, for letting your presence be known once again and in such an obviously ironic way.
Uzumaki is an abstract shot of a subject I’ve been obsessed with trying to photograph for 20 years. I can finally check it off the list. Shot with a Minolta TC-1 on Tri-X at ISO 400 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
Elements was shot with a Hasselblad 500C/M using an obviously distressed 120 back and fronted with a 30mm f/3.5 F-Distagon fisheye lens. For added anti-fidelity, a roll of TMAX 400, which expired 13+ years ago was also employed, as was my usual tank of Blazinal 1:50.
56 Panes was shot on an Olympus Xa, using HP5+ pushed to ISO 800 and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
Introspective was shot with a Nikon 28Ti on Fomapan 400, and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
Fog Bank was shot on a Nikon S3, fronted with a Nikon 50mm f/1.4 lens on HP5+ at ISO 400, and developed in Blazinal 1:50.
REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
Are we we? Were we always we? Or are we empty vessels hoovering up the we?
Using ‘me’ as a proxy for ‘we’ and defining ‘were’ as ‘a time well before the first Zoomer crawled from the womb’, I’ve always been in the ‘we were always we’ camp. Whatever differences lie between the twains of ‘me’ can be chalked up to the simple fact that modern me has more experience and knowledge than nascent me, and thus makes different decisions. Yesterday’s me was explorative and driven. He was organized, focused, iconoclastic and fairly certain of his extraterrestrial origin. Today’s me is no different.
That’s not to say I’m still wearing platform shoes like it’s 1977; skinny leather ties like it’s 1981; or frosting my hair like 1985. Those were all mere accoutrements and not fundamental to the plot. Sort of like Julie Newmar, Lee Meriwether and Eartha Kitt were just variations on the same Catwoman. To Adam West’s Batman, they were one and the same.
But after thumbing through ULTRAsomething’s fifth Exorcism, I had a rather potently conflicting thought — one that challenged my perception that we were always we; or at least that I was always me. “Wow,” I thought, “I don’t have a single thing in common with that guy who first plunged into photography some 32 years ago.”
And so, bored with all the choices on my overabundance of streaming channels, I decided to prove it to myself (something nascent me would have done as well).
Through the convenient portal provided by an old box of negatives, I traveled back in time to those very first few strips of film that ran through my very first serious camera and my very first serious attempts at photography. Who was that guy, who 32 years ago decided to expand his love of looking at photographs into the act of taking photographs? Was he me?
First Travel Landscape
Because I was a photography connoisseur long before I became a photographer, I had a rather expansive visual vocabulary when I began. For the none of you who might be interested, I wrote about my circuitous path to becoming a photographer in an article called Origin Story. In my ceaseless search for prints to peruse, I would travel far and wide from my home in San Francisco’s North Beach neighbourhood, looking for galleries. And more often than not, given my location, these galleries were chock full of absolutely stunning prints made by Group f/64 photographers. And though I never developed an interest in landscape photography, I definitely wanted to make prints like these. So when I bought my first camera and darkroom enlarger, I thought the quickest way to producing my own stunning prints would be to trek down to Ansel Adams’ favourite hunting ground, Yosemite, and try my hand. Below is my very first attempt at a landscape photo.
It is everything a Group f/64 photo is not. I remember thinking it was an absolute failure, and that the heavily pronounced grain and murkiness would surely convince Canon to repossess my new camera, lest anyone see the results and choose to blame Canon. But I also remember secretly liking it precisely because it was grainy and murky. And now, 32 years in the future, I don’t have to be secretive any more. It’s a photo that looks like me and nothing like a Group f/64 photo. And while I have zero interest in landscape photography now, I also had zero interest then. It’s the way I photograph something, not what I photograph. So consider this Exhibit A in the “We were always we” camp.
First Architecture
Anyone who slogged through my origin story knows my interest in photography was birthed by my interest in architecture. So it’s no surprise that some of my earliest forays into photography involved architecture — or rather I wanted them to. In my mind, I would be the new Julius Shulman, and his photos of mid-century modern structures helped me realize that my opinion of a particular piece of architecture could be as much a product of the photographer as the architect.
Unfortunately, I had no access to famous architects or their buildings. Nor was it the mid-century any more. Architects in the early 90’s had abandoned my love of minimalism and functionalism, and pivoted to a sort of ornamental and decorative style — but tawdry and tasteless unlike previous incarnations. So even if I had known any architects, I wouldn’t have wanted to photograph their buildings. However, I did quite like the gritty utilitarian buildings that lined the back alleys around Chinatown, so they became the subject of my early architectural leanings.
This is the first architectural shot I could find amongst my negatives. It offers precious little view of anything beyond functional detail, with a hint of abstraction and a dollop of blur. At the time, I thought it was horrible. I look at it now, and it looks like me. Exhibit B in the “We were always we” camp.
First Abstract
Unlike the previous two genres, in which I dabbled due more to proximity than passion, abstraction was something much closer to my heart. Even before I first became interested in photography as a genuine art form, I was drawn to abstracts. If I couldn’t quite figure out a photograph — either what it was or how it was taken — then it would pinball around my brain long after I’d finished viewing it.
Below is the very first abstract I ever took, on the first roll of film I ever shot.
As abstracts go, it’s not all that abstract (unless maybe you’re one of those aforementioned Gen Z’ers, or younger). But truth be told, I’m still taking this same photo today. Rarely do I pass a video display of any sort without thinking it warrants a photo or two. Several such shots have even appeared in various Exorcisms. So mark this as Exhibit C in the “We were always we” case.
First Street
A second major catalyst toward my eventual plunge into photography was the work of Robert Frank, Elliott Erwitt, Garry Winogrand and others of their ilk (and I apologize to each of their estates for “ilkifying” them in this way). It’s interesting that this, more than any other genre, became the one with which I was most associated over the years, because it was the one I struggled with the most in the early days — mostly because I was gripped by the fear of photographing strangers on the street.
So unlike other first photographs, this one probably bears the least resemblance to who I ultimately became.
That’s because it’s not a photo I would take today, nor does it possess the empathy and humour I seek in all my street work. Also, it runs counter to my now ubiquitous use of deep depth-of-field and wide angle lenses, so as to bathe the subject in context, and not isolate them from it.
And yet, I don’t believe these deviations reflect a difference between past me and current me. Instead, they’re more a product of past me simply not knowing how best to approach the genre. After all, this is the very first “street” photo I ever took. I distinctly remember looking at the print and thinking this was not the approach I wanted to take — deciding I would need to alter my technique, go with wide angle lenses, shoot closer, and simply learn to conquer my fear. So my ability to instantly recognize this photo wasn’t me means I was, indeed, always me. And thus we have Exhibit D.
First Model Session
The third significant impetus for my plunge into cameradom was studio and figure photography, with the likes of Helmut Newton, Richard Avedon, Bill Brandt, and Frantisek Drtikol all pulling me into learning the art of lighting and set design.
Just like the street work, the studio required I photograph humans — and photographing humans removes an element of control from the photographer. Fortunately, as with my musical life, I thrive on serendipity and improvisation. I saw studio photography as a form of jazz — I compose a basic theme and structure, but the finished shot becomes an interplay of improvised counterpoint between model and photographer.
The following series is from my first ever session involving a model:
For several years, this was my primary photographic discipline, so it’s odd that it’s now the one I no longer practice. There are a variety of reasons, but perhaps the main one is that I simply failed to find an audience. I wasn’t interested in delivering the sort of images expected from this genre, and instead tried to ‘advance’ it into quirkiness (at first) or downright abstraction (which I eventually did) — neither of which seemed to fit any viewers’ desire. Ultimately, the disconnect between the photos I wanted to take and the photos people wanted to see lead me to abandon the genre entirely. I simply wasn’t willing to be the photographer someone else wanted me to be, and it’s this ‘adherence to self’ that’s hopefully evident in each and every Exorcism I publish today. And so, here is Exhibit E in the supposition that “we were always we.”
Conclusion
Looking at these first few tentative photos from the dawn of my photographic origins has shown me that I was, indeed, always me. The only real difference is that today’s me has more experience; more knowledge; and no longer allows public expectations to dictate his publishing efforts. So the doubt that crept in upon my perusal of the fifth Exorcism was unfounded. It’s not that I don’t have anything in common with the guy who first plunged into photography some 32 years ago — I’m just Catwoman in a different skin.
Echoes was shot with a Hasselblad Xpan, fronted with a 90mm f/4 lens and loaded with FP4+ pushed to ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal 1:24
Lunch: Guu was shot with a Widelux F7 on Fomapan 400 at ISO 400 and developed in Rodinal 1:50.
The remaining photos, as discussed, were all shot in early 1992 on a Canon somethingorother fronted with a Canon whatchamacallit, on various thisnthat film stocks and developed in D76 and/or a local lab. Surely none of that matters?
REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
Every time I complete the final layout for another exorcism and ship a pdf to the printer, one might reasonably expect I’d experience a huge sense of relief. After all, casting out demons should leave me feeling rather light and unburdened. But this assumes I’m as reasonable as one’s expectations — a bad bet. The fact is, immediately after I close the file on each new magazine, all I can think about is the clock that’s already ticking — counting down the time until the next issue is due, and taunting me with the fact that I currently have zero photos in the queue. A seemingly insurmountable wall of work awaits. Is it any wonder I refer to each issues as an ‘exorcism’?
Like the first two issues, every photo in EXORCISM 05 was shot on film, though the total number of digital shots contained in 03 and 04 barely sum to a ‘smattering.’ Most significantly, I finally achieved my goal of publishing an issue that used fewer cameras than the issue before it. EXORCISM 04 used 22 cameras, whereas EXORCISM 05 employs a mere 20:
EXORCISM 05, like EXORCISM 04 before it, is a glossy 72 page, 8.5 x 11.25, full-bleed magazine chock-a-block with the sort of black and white photography that’s guaranteed to confound a literalist. It, along with back issues of the previous EXORCISMS is now available on the ULTRAsomething STORE.
Grab a copy before they’re all gone. Not that any of them have yet all gone. But you never know. This could be the one that does it.
REMINDER: If you’ve managed to extract a modicum of enjoyment from the plethora of material contained on this site, please consider making a DONATION to its continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is neither an aggregator site nor is it AI-generated. Serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls — even the silly stuff.
Those who enjoy a tactile engagement with photographs are encouraged to visit the ULTRAsomething STORE, where actual objects, including ULTRAsomething Magazine, are available for purchase.
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