The Blog: Part Travelogue, Part How-To, Part Product Review, Part Scrap Book. Who'd have thought back in the late 1900's there'd even be such a thing? Regardless, here we are. This blog is a stream-of-consciousness catch-all of topics that don't fit anywhere else. It serves as a safe haven for the closet journalist within desperate to be heard... but with nothing really pressing to say. These random, mental "blips" triggered by who-knows-what pass through the mind of us creative folks and need some place to live. Like the unwanted toys in Rudolph all hanging out on their own icy berg until Herbie the dentist and Yukon Cornelius show up to save them. I'll bet you never thought of yourself as Herbie the Dentist or Yukon Cornelius, did you? Well, just like they took those toys back to the mainstream and reintroduced them to the rest of the world, please feel free to pass these little nuggets along to your sphere of influence.
Family safe, good clean fun.
Blue Hour, Soapstone Prairie Open Space, Northern Colorado (Kodak Portra 160)
I went on one of my 4042n jaunts last Saturday, this time to SoapStone Prairie Open Space, a relatively new area at the extreme edge of Colorado. You can cross into Wyoming on one of the short backcountry trails. Having decided the goal for the day was to record honest images, I headed out with a pack full of Portra 160, some Ektar, some Delta and of course Tri-X.
Soapstone Prairie Morning, Extreme Northern Colorado (Kodak Portra 160)
What do I mean by honest images. I mean images of an area that don't happen for a split second once a month, then are gone. An honest image is an unpretentious image. An honest image represents what an area looks like 99.9% of the time, not .1% of the time, deceiving viewers into believing every minute of every day looks like magic hour. An honest image means heading out when nothing's flowering, nothing's blooming and nothing's having babies. An honest image is two does and a buck watching you work your way up the trail in grey-blue hour, wondering if you're there to kill them, and deciding your not.
The honest image means a natural color film. Not a digital camera. Not Velvia (though I do think honest images can be made on Velvia). The temptation with Velvia is to force it into the dishonest realm - to compromise it. Juice it. An honest image means no Photoshop monkey business. It means no pano's, no stitching, and for the love of all things good and right in the world, no HDR. An honest image means being intentional about the media you choose to record a scene that's chosen you. An honest image means no black and white conversions. It means no cropping your way to a good image. It means thinking in series, or working for the stand-alone, solitary shot that needs no caption, no tag line.
An honest image means medium format, 120 fine-grained, color negative film to capture every bit of nuance, every slight tonal variation, every bit of every square inch of everything in front of your fixed, focal-length (non-zooming) lens as you stand behind the tripod with the cable release in hand and trip the shutter. An honest image means waiting. It means looking intently for composition and it means missing. It means seeing a shot and not being able to frame it properly and passing it by, but allowing it to burn into your brain for next time.
Rawhide Power Plant, Northern Larimer County, Colorado
An honest image means it fits the subject matter. Northern Colorado and southern Wyoming aren't Disneyland. The land is muted, earthen hues. Greens, mauves, ochres, tans, cobalt blues, cadmium reds, burnt sienna's; big skies, small plants, ugly rocks and lots of wind. It's bright, sunny, high-altitude light out of dynamic range praying for a cloud to drift between the sun and the earth to make a shot. An honest image means driving for hours and stopping in the middle of an unmarked county dirt road to turn around to make a shot that you pray you can make before a car comes over the hill and... because with the wind blowing and the hood on your Carhartt up you can't hear anything more than 3 feet away. An honest image means getting dusty and dirty kneeling down in the the ditch. It means chasing your hat across the prairie when the wind takes it.
Near Red Mountain Open Space, Northern Larimer County, Colorado
An honest image means no trespassing. It means closing gates behind you and honoring the mandate to stay on the trail - and missing the shot you want because you did. An honest image begins an hour before sun up and ends an hour after sun down. It means a last tilt of the thermos of tepid, too-strong coffee for something to drink at the end of the day. An honest image means washboard roads, AM talk radio, bugs in the radiator and chipped windscreens. It means nearly running out of fuel and paying too much a gallon at the nearly closed, sporting good-convenient store-fast-food chain-delicatessen-truck stop-fuel mart that smells like burnt coffee and is out of TP.
An honest image means - above all else - joy. Peace. Solitude. Creative immersion. It means Discovery. An honest image is a very, very good thing.
"Autumn Rain no.1" - Gunnison National Forest, Colorado (2012) -12" x 18" giclée fine art, limited edition, photographic print
Please click the image above to enter the Fine Art Print Gallery.
For a while now I've been struggling with the idea of how to add meaningful "products" to my service-based creative business. For 20+ years my business has been about what unique, beautiful, custom creative deliverables I can create for my clients. Usually people come to me because they want something unique; something specific - not generic or mass produceable. Understanding their specific goals/objectives, what defines success and how to exceed their wildest expectations - all occupy a good bit of my waking creative brain energy. While this process can be creatively invigorating, it's also finite, exhausting and can leave little room for other things.
For whatever reason I've not been blessed with the "Inventor" gene allowing creation of that magic widget everyone needs so I can sit back and coast the rest of my days.... but for a while now I've been working toward answering this one question: with the gifts and abilities I do have, how can I contribute to the lives of others in a way that brings beauty, joy, inspiration and meaning - and is unique, of high-quality and even special - and - doesn't require my whole brain 24/7 to produce. My answer to this question is High-Quality, Limited & Open Edition Fine Art Prints. It's not an original idea, but now more than any other time in the history of print making these fine art prints are possible and available to "normal people." You don't need to be wealthy, or a collector to own a real, honest-to-goodness piece of fine art. And here's the beauty of it: these fine art prints satisfy all the requirements above. And - dare I say - they're awesome.
I've dreamt of the day this creative vision could be fulfilled: to be able to produce and deliver these prints for others to enjoy. But its been out of reach due to time, energy, technology, prohibitively expensive up-front production costs and the logistics of fulfillment. Now I'm so pleased to be able to offer these Limited Edition and Open Edition Fine Art Photographic Prints to the public. That's why I'm so excited. I'm still heavily involved in all the aforementioned service-specific aspects of the business, but these unique, high-quality "products" have a meaningful lifespan beyond the initial time and creative energy required to create them.
"Wandering" - Gunnison National Forest, Colorado (2012) -12" x 18" giclée fine art, limited edition, photographic print
After nearly 40 years of shooting I feel like I've come upon a good recipe for accomplishing a vision I've nurtured all these years. There's a good bit of thought behind the project.
"Autumn Rain no.2" - Gunnison National Forest, Colorado (2012) -12" x 18" giclée fine art, limited edition, photographic print
Unfortunately I'm not much of a "marketeer." As a consumer myself I'm usually leery of over-inflated promises unfulfilled by underwhelming results. So I'll avoid the marketing clichés and hype here and ask you to simply trust me. Many of you already know me, others do not. Don't let that stop you. A few things I've learned during my years in the service industry are that talk is cheap; and good news travels fast - but bad news travels faster - especially on the web. I can tell you though that this project is geared towards you - the every day person who's looking for something beautiful, affordable and attainable to grace their home or place of business with. I welcome the opportunity to serve you in this new way, with this new product. Here's a link to the new, Fine Art Print Gallery.
With Sincere Appreciation, John B. Crane
*I totally embrace both film and digital image recording - but when I can, I still prefer to use film.
This is a recap of the past 4 years shooting medium format film with my Mamiya RZ67 medium format film camera. These thoughts are for anyone contemplating a move to the Medium Format film who might be looking for more information. I hope you find it useful. The executive summary: building out a medium format system is worth it. The experiment is over-the RZ is a keeper.
Carhenge, Alliance, Nebraska (Provia 100F). Some unique blend of micro-detail combined with an organic quality from the film grain structure provides that additional 'being there' factor to images made on medium format film.
First a little background. My tipping point was 2008 when Nikon released the D3x at $8,000 US. Something snapped inside. Mind you, this was only 2 short years after digesting a rather large amount of information about the D200 – the first decent digital camera I was considering purchasing. New to digital in 2006, the D200 was a wonderful camera and made wonderful images, but became quickly aware the tradeoffs shooting digital - and the D200 specifically - required. Still I accepted this and pressed on, relatively happy and committed to the course I’d set out on. Fast forward to the fall of 2008. Now for $8K many of the issues that had frustrated me with the D200 were resolved. But another $8k?! Hmm... I began to understand the new business model of camera makers and saw it would quickly bleed me dry if allowed. It was then I began the search for another way.
After seeing first hand image quality differences between various formats at a Zion National Park workshop the decision was made. I turned to ebay for my first medium format fllm camera - the RZ67 with a 110mm lens (the normal focal range for 6x7 medium format), and a 120 back. It was more or less an experiment to see if the image quality difference was worth the extra everything to build out and haul around another system. Coming in at a third of what I’d paid for my digital body just 2 years earlier, the cost factor was attractive. Though important – cost isn't the only consideration. The promise of the elusive “ultimate image quality” dangled before me, drawing me onward. I remember making the entry bid on an impulse, and only an hour later thinking “what have I done?” I knew someone would outbid me, and this temporary fascination with MF would be over. The next morning I awoke to an e-mail saying congratulations – I was the high bidder (no one lese bid). I’d won.
Gulp. Here we go.
The Boars Tusk, Sweetwater County, Red Desert, Wyoming (Epson V500 scan of Velvia).
For the past 4 years I've juggled 2 systems: my Nikon D/FSLR 35mm system, and the Mamiya RZ system nearly everywhere I've gone. Because I drive to many shooting destinations it's logistically practical. When space and efficiency are the mandate (flying to Haiti) I've taken the Nikon D/FSLR system. Sharing lenses, accessories, batteries, etc. make this the obvious choice for a compact, fully functional system. On other trips I've left everything else home, electing to focus on the MF system to force myself to get comfortable with it. Recently I traveled to Washington State's Olympic Peninsula and had in mind some very specific medium format black & white work I wanted to accomplish. Bringing the RZ was key.
Rock cairns stacked in a long-dead giant tree, Rialto Beach, Olympic National Park, Washington (Tri-X). The exposure latitude of black and white film really shows in this image. This was a bright, sunny day and Tri-X handled all the light beautifully.
At first it took a while to learn to shoot the camera in a style that leveraged its strengths rather than pretending it was a small, nimble, fast-shooting camera. With practice it surely can be more so – but the RZ is a different beast. With 400 speed film and a fast lens I’ll hand-hold at shutter speeds down to 1/60 second. Most of the time, though, I'm shooting the RZ at ISO 50/100 with Mirror-up on a tripod at f22 or smaller.
Upon return from any trip the 120 films are usually the first to the lab; the ones I'm most excited to see. Yes, the RZ is heavy compared to the D/FSLR's. Yes, it requires a little extra tinkering and fidgeting sometimes (my battery went dead at sunset on a trip, but I was able to swap it out very quickly and not miss a beat), and no, it's not weather sealed. But the image quality is out of this world. Every time I get my films back from the RZ I simply can't-believe-the-quality-of-the-image. The amount of information a 6cm x 7cm negative/chrome contains is mind-boggling -over 4X 35mm. In this case size most definitely matters.
After films are processed (about $4/roll at the lab) I've been scanning with the Epson V500 with very satisfactory results for "proofing" work. When I have an image I want to get the most from a drum scan is the obvious (but expensive) option. I once did a head-to-head comparison on the same negative: a Tango drum scan vs. the V500 flat bed scan. Needless to say the Tango was superior, but not by nearly as much as imagined. The drum scan cost $100 vs. the $200 Epson scanner. The drum scan definitely was not $100 better - the Epson holding its own quite well. With the right technique the V500 is capable of capturing plenty of the film's image data and creating a very tight, high-quality image - without having to drum scan every frame.
Tango drum scan of Kodak Ektar frame, made at Adobe Town Rim, Red Desert, Wyoming, (Ektar)
I've had people ask how I decide when to shoot which camera/system. I've resisted the occasional rash, purist-induced act of dumping all but one camera and one lens just to simplify, and have arrived at the following (vague) guidelines:
My Nikon D3s is my "go-to" camera when I need to be absolutely sure of getting an image in a "work" situation. It's a no brainer. Being able to check the LCD ensures success when it's critical. Also, heavy shooting assignments such as sports, events, group photos or any other case where many exposures will be made is equally a no brainer. On top of this, the full weight of the robust Nikon system is a huge asset, providing ways to make images that simply couldn't be made any other way. Also, when using multiple light sources running Nikon's CLS the D3s shines magnificently. Immediate turn-around for digital publishing is sure easier, too. Not to mention being sure no one blinked. So I'm not a snob. I totally embrace the modern ways of making digital images.
No blinkers, please. Besides the flashes, the timers and the portability, the D3s was the clear choice here to make sure there were no blinkers (Nikon D3s digital capture).
I'd rather shoot film than digital and for general shooting and travel you'll almost never find me without my Nikon F6 35mm film camera. It's my most-shot, most-loved camera. When you hold some things in your hand there's almost a sense that they were made with you specifically in mind. That's how I feel about the F6. Ergonomically it’s my favorite camera to just have in hand. It’s nimble, fast-shooting when necessary, rugged, reliable, and technically superior to any other 35mm film camera ever produced. In terms of shooting experience the F6 provides a certain satisfaction no other camera can touch. It leverages the same system lenses and accessories as the D3s including the battery, making the D3s and F6 zero penalty extensions of the same great system. Additionally, there are focal ranges available to the D/FSLR systems not available to MF and there's simply no way to get the same image. All that said, there are times I'll view an image made on 35mm film and think, "if only I'd made this on medium format film." That's where the RZ comes in.
Zion National Park's Subway. This image couldn't have been made with the RZ due to the super wide angle required in tight quarters. The F6 was the obvious choice due to the Nikon system strengths, and the weight difference between the two cameras. It took the better part of a day to hike in and out of a river to reach this point. Hauling the heavy RZ in would have been a much more difficult task. (Nikon F6 on Velvia).
For artistic and creative invigoration shooting the RZ consistently excites me in unique ways. Of course the other cameras are capable of creating art, too. But there's something special about Medium Format. I was watching an interview with National Geographic photographer Jim Brandenburg talking about how the resolution of the Nikon D800 changed his shooting style. When you go out with a medium format camera you're thinking about subtle tonality changes because the size of the film has the ability to see things that smaller format cameras don't. Tonality detail now becomes a compositional element that your eyes see - yet can go unnoticed by smaller format cameras. That's one reason why a scene shot with a smaller format camera may not survive translation to a final image. The size of the 6x7 frame (more than 4X 35mm), plays a huge part in contributing to this "look" of the image, making it unique. It's not an action camera. It's a deliberate, thoughtful tool requiring time to plan and prepare. This has the net effect of intentionally slowing the photographer down to truly examine the contents of a frame before it's made. When I have the time and room, the RZ is the tool of choice.
The Walk-Away. Weeds consume an upscale, never-to-be finished home in the opulent suburban Chicago megaburb of Naperville. Construction grinded to a halt when the owners walked away. Mamiya RZ67 Pro II, 65mm -LA lens, 2-stop ND Grad, Kodak Portra 160.
Over the past 3 years I've enjoyed the buyers market and added lenses for pennies on the dollar: the 65mmLA (fantastic lens), the 140mm Macro (fantastic lens), the 250mmAPO (fantastic lens), and both extension tubes. The FE701 prism finder, flip-up magnifier, G3 bellows, double cable release and a few additional backs - all in fantastic condition, also pennies on the dollar - round out a useful and diverse kit. Such low cost for such high-quality glass and accessories is the complete antithesis of the expensive, digital juggernaut. But again, it’s not just the cost – it’s what you’re getting for the cost that radically swings the scale.
I've had one lens need repair, sending it to MAC Group and for a couple hundred dollars came back good as new. I've bought from private parties, KEH, *bay and others - all with wonderful success. My freezer is growing ever more full of 120 film of different flavors and it beckons my creativity, which most importantly is wholly reinvigorated, seeing photographically in ways I've never before known - trusting the RZ has the technical chops to deliver my creative vision - providing I do my part.
I've been storing my chromes/negatives in a 2 inch 3-ring binder with archival sleeves and it's now bulging with pages. I love the fact I don't have to worry about losing my images in a crash (even though I'm very well backed-up). I love laying the archival sleeves on my light box and marveling at the original films beneath the loupe. I love the idea that I don't need to turn a computer on to view an original film and I love the that the very piece of film I'm viewing was with me on the trip.
Craig Pass, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming with the Mamiya 250mmAPO (Ilford PanF50)
The experiment is over. The Mamiya has long-since earned its own bag and often the camera I’ll plan my shooting around. I read on a blog recently a similar post by someone who went through a similar process moving to MF digital. He was talking about costs in the $20,000 - $40,000 range as being relative. I agree that cost is relative. But for me value is key. It’s not how much you’re spending, but what you’re getting for what you’re spending. For me and the way I shoot, I see tremendous value - both economic and artistic - in medium format film.
For anyone wanting to invigorate their creative vision, I'd strongly encourage taking advantage of this unique moment in time where the supply and demand curve has rendered such high-quality gear so attainable. It won't last. Already I’ve noticed prices going up as the niche catches on and supplies begin to decline.
For a gallery of images made with the RZ over the past 4 years, please visit: http://www.johnbcrane.com/120
The High Park Fire day 2 smoke plume rose to over 20,000 feet and stretch 200+ miles into neighboring Wyoming and Nebraska.
By now the wildfires in the western United States, and Colorado in particular, are National news. Like other national disasters - storm events, accidents, etc. - to those not directly impacted by the fires it may seem a little abstract. Like other disasters for those immediately impacted by events, it's very, very real. In the city of Fort Collins we were in no immediate danger from fires such as the High Park Fire. It burned in heavily forested lands to the West and North of the city center, plus there is a large body of water between the fire and the city acting as a natural buffer. But to those who's homes were threatened by the path of the fire, and the men and women fire fighters who were in the thick of the mayhem, breathing smoke for nearly 3 weeks, in triple digit temperatures, putting themselves in harm's way to wrestle this mammoth fire into submission for the sake of those who's homes were threatened - it was as real as it gets.
Rafters carry on business as usual as Fire Fighters lock down another hot spot along Highway 14's Poudre Canyon.
I trained as a volunteer fire fighter in Boulder County many years ago. I never saw a fire, but did go through all preparation. Let me tell you, what those men and women do is not easy - by anyone's standards. That's why the other evening as we were heading to a wedding in LaPorte, one of the areas at the foot of the fire and used as early staging for disaster relief, something caught my eye. As we headed up Overland Trail and neared the town of Laporte, signs began to appear along the edge of the road. First a couple, then more, then we lost count. Homeowners - many of who's homes weren't even directly impacted by the High Park Fire, fashioned hand-made signs with whatever materials they had on hand to make sure the wild land fire fighters knew their efforts were appreciated. This really got to me.
As the victims displaced by the fire made their way to not so near-by Budweiser Events Center, actually south of Fort Collins in Loveland - a good 20 miles from their homes up Rist and Poudre canyons, the community that is Northern Colorado really kicked into gear. Many went to the evacuee's offering food, clothing, and shelter - anything to help those who'd lost their homes, or possibly even worse - wouldn't know if they'd lost their homes until they were allowed back in to the burn site to see if it's still standing.
Just out of Bellvue, Colorado at the bottom of Rist Canyon, another area hardest hit by the High Park fire.
I'm proud of our community and grateful to those who worked so hard to put out the fire that can only be described as monstrous. I remember seeing early footage on the news of entire mountain sides engulfed in flames with dead, beetle-killed pine trees crowning - bursting into hellish flames towering far above a few, tiny yellow-shirted fire fighters with pick axes, hacking out an insignificantly thin line in the mountain below. My first response was, that looks like such an unfair fight... it looks hopeless. But through perseverance, dedication, hard work, and the grit deeply embedded in the western mind set, it's the fire that never had a chance.
All this to say, Thank You, Fire Fighters. From the bottom of our hearts. We are grateful for and respect your sacrifice for us, your neighbors.
Today I received back from the lab my two rolls of Portra 160 shot over the weekend. The more I shoot this film, the more I like it. I know, I know... I'm in love with every film when it comes back from the lab and I get lucky with a shot turning out as hoped. But I'm beginning to see real benefits in sticking with an emulsion over a period of time to learn how to best anticipate how it responds in any situation. As is often the case with 36 frames, subject matter was varied. First, this post will concentrate on Portra for Landscape (and other) applications.
This first shot was made on the way home from a family event on Sunday, just north of highway 66 in Longmont, Colorado. This truck has been sitting in this field for as many years as I've been driving back and forth between Longmont and Fort Collins (many years), and I've always thought it a little unusual. This past Sunday the light was perfect. Dark skies always catch my eye, and the strong, Colorado sun was hitting the old, dilapidated siding just right. I pulled over, scrambled down the irrigation ditch and hopped what was left of the old, pushed-down barbed wire fence to get my shadow out of the shot. As usual, the F6 Matrix metered everything perfectly and Portra held the highlights in the sun-drenched western wall. As large and cumbersome as the Nikkor 28-70 is, it's sure a functional lens. Stop it down to ƒ8-11 and you almost can't make a bad image with it. But what really sets this image apart for me is the sky. There's real, subtle intrigue in the sky - and much of that is Portra. It's organic; somehow alive. And the greens in the foreground give the image something earthy. Portra handled all of it.
Here's another Portra image made last summer:
When I uploaded the first image into my F6 gallery, I immediately thought of this shot as a likely predecessor in succession. These two are good examples of where I'm heading. The obvious visual tie-ins are the green foreground, low horizon, dramatic sky... vehicle(s). What really links them, though, again is Portra's color balance, natural bias's and grain structure. The image immediately above is Portra 400 (at rated 400). The color is - to me and my eyes - wonderful. It's subdued, not bombastic and garish. It's much more "real" than say, Velvia or Ektachrome 100VS (we'll get to that wonderful emulsion in a later post). Portra carries with it - again, to me - a sense of America. I don't know what it is, exactly - but it's there. Add to it the organic quality of the 160 grain and you've got something that's authentic. Touchable.
Here's another one, made in Pine, Wyoming late last year. This is 120 film made with the Mamiya. You can see the same tendencies, the same look and feel:
So Portra for landscapes - despite the overwhelming preponderance of the high-saturation, high-contrast chrome films - is becoming much more appealing to me. As Kodak mentions in their on-line literature, Portra scans very well. Kodak surmised that today's film shooter is more than probably scanning their frames more often then using enlargers. With this in mind, they specially formulated Portra for scanning. I can see a difference between it, and the old NC/VC frames. Kodak also claims it has a saturation level more balanced toward the older NC (Natural Color) as opposed to the Vivid Color (VC) strain. I'll say, however, that it is more saturation latitude to my eye than NC and not quite as much as VC. Here's a VC frame from last year:
This was 160VC shot at 100, which I'm pretty convinced is a good idea. While Portra has tons of latitude in exposure, like every other digitally processed image noise can always find a way in if permitted - especially at the under exposed areas of the image. I'm of the opinion that if you provide lots of light for ample exposure, then set good black and white points in processing, you'll get a higher quality final print. I think this image has more punch to it than straight up Portra would provide. But that's OK. For the occasions when that's desired, Kodak's Ektar is a good choice.
A brief word about color negative film vs. chrome (slide) films:
A look through any of my galleries bares witness to my use of the chrome films. The most common being Velvia, though I've briefly rediscovered Ektachrome 100VS - just in time for Kodak to discontinue it. However, I'm finding more often in general shooting situations I'm reaching for color negative films over the chrome films for a few key reasons. 1) Exposure latitude is phenomenal. Negative film, scanned full resolution at 16-bit is an incredible thing. Image features I know would blow or be buried on my digital sensor are right there, even shooting the mighty Nikon D3s which has tons of exposure latitude in its RAW images to begin with. And in a digital workflow, data is king - and negative film carries tons of it. 2) Cost. When you shoot as much film as I do, cost matters. Getting chrome film processed runs between $16-$18 per roll at my favorite lab. They use great E6 equipment and it's worth it when I need to be sure a roll is processed right. But C41 comes in at $4/roll, $5 if you have the roll cut into strips of 4 - which are easier to store. That's 3 or 4 rolls of film processed C41 for the cost of one roll of E6. That matters. 3) Full frame. I know I don't need to have my slides mounted, but I do anyway. It's how my storage system is set up. And I sure don't want to mount them myself (I'd rather be out shooting). When slides are mounted they obscure the edges of the frame. When you shoot a camera employing a 100% viewfinder like the Nikon F6 you're not seeing the same thing in the final image that you saw in your viewfinder. This might seem piddly, but can make a significant difference in the impact of the final image. 4) The slide-mounts also conceal the exif data my F6 writes between frames. Not a huge deal - I have the MV-1 to retrieve the data from the camera and store in an Excel spread sheet. But it can be handy to view on screen in a per-image basis, too. 5) Lastly, I don't know if it's old age or what, but I'm finding myself preferring a bit more natural color palette. The Chrome film I've been shooting for years will always resonate with me - I love color. But lately there are times that a more natural treatment of what's before me is preferred, and for that, once again Portra is a wonderful choice. Another benefit is that, for some reason, the image looks less "digital."
Add it all up, and Portra is an emulsion I'm hoping Kodak keeps around for many years to come. I'm always on the look out for deals to stock pile my freezer with, and Kodak's new Portra is now at the top of that list.
Next time I'll cover Portra and how it responds to flash.