[Leica] Visit to Victoria

[Martin Howard <howard.390@osu.edu>]

It has become quite popular of late upon to, upon the return from a
photographic trip, write a little report -- where 'little' in some cases
refers to 30 pages (hehe -- nothing like shooting yourself in the foot ;)
Like many, I enjoy these a great deal, sort of travelling-by-proxy,
probably much the same reason I like reading about travelling off the
beaten path in magazines.  So, here goes.

Columbus and I don't really get on all that well.  I think we regard each
other with a certain measure of confusion and incomprehension.  I grew up
in Europe and life in the Midwest is something I'm finding is hard to get
acostomed to.  It is hard to put my finger on.  People I meet are very
friendly, but it often strikes me as a sort of superficial friendliness.  I
enjoy walking and stumbling across unexpected and interesting things and
places.  Here, everyone drives to everything, which means that all trips
have to be planned -- unless, of course, you're just aimlessly driving
around.  Which I cannot help feel is a little wasteful of natural
resources.  I like places and life which is fast paced, where things are
happening all around you all the time -- places that keep you on your toes.
One of the most common things you'll hear about Columbus is "it's a great
place to raise kids".  Which essentially translates into "very little
happens here".  Why children should require inactivity I don't know, but it
seems to be a universally held truth.

So, all this basically translates into a need to "escape" Columbus every
once in a while.  I seem to escape to one of two places, either Boston, or
Vancouver.  Well, the last trip was to the LHSA meet in Boston, so this
time it was Vancouver's turn.

The first time I met Ted Grant was in Vancouver about a year ago over
whisky and sushi.  During dinner, I carefully wedged myself in between Ted
on one side and Tom Abrahamsson on the other.  While juggling sushi and
tempura with my chopsticks, I think I learnt more about photography during
that one meal that I had during all the preceeding years' book reading.  It
was my first encounter with really good sushi and I took to it like a fish
to water (unfortunate as that particular metaphor might be).  I think Ted
liked the idea of "The Kid" exclusively shooting B&W, being whisky lover,
and someone who could happily eat sushi at least three days a week.  So,
then and there, I was invited over to visit him, Irene, and Sandy in\
Victoria upon my next visit.

As it happens, I made two trips to Vancouver where time prohibited a proper
visit to the island.  Victoria is ridiculously close to Vancouver, but
strangely difficult to get to.  It's as though all transportation has
conspired to make the journey as inconvenient as possible, unless you
possess a car, large amounts of money, or inordinate amounts of time.  For
the both temporally and monetarily challenged average doctorate student,
Victoria might as well be in the middle of the country.  I made early
enquiries to Ted about how to get there, but he happily referred the matter
to Irene and Sandy who, with the help of Tuulikki, managed to organize
everything to perfection.

I arrived on Thursday evening and spent four days with Ted and Irene.  I
was in the exceptionally privileged position of receiving a four-day
intensive course in just about all aspects of how to take pictures.  The
importance of Light, Content, and Action.  "Light gives the picture life,
Content gives it soul" said Ted.  Looking at his slides, prints, and books,
it was clear that Action determines when the picture is taken.  The range
was increadible.  I don't think there are many things that Ted has not
photographed and photographed well.  By the third day I'd picked my jaw off
the ground and was capable of asking intelligable questions -- even if not
intelligent.  It was like twenty sushi dinners all crammed into one.

Saturday evening, over dinner, the conversation started civilly but
eventually strayed into the subject of photography.  The four of us were
sitting around the table when somehow the issue of Ted's pictures came up.
   "Oh, even I like his pictures," said Irene.  Which, of course, had
Sandy and me in tears with laughter as Ted just gave me a looked of faked
resignation.
   "But I don't understand what people get all holly-golly about," she
added.  I asphyxiated shortly afterwards.  I'd met Irene before, but not
spoken to her at any length.  During this trip I got the opportunity to
meet her properly and learnt that she has the most wonderful offbeat sense
of humour and is one of the most genuinely likeable people I've met.

By Sunday evening Ted decided I needed a break -- Ted's going on 72 and I
was having trouble keeping up with him!  We'd been talking photography,
taking pictures, looking at pictures, and critiquing pictures more or less
continuously from 9am till night the past three days and my head was
spinning with enthusiasm, ideas, and with the sheer effort of trying to
take it all in.  It was time to put The Kid to the test.  I was handed an
R8, an 80mm f/1.4 lens, four rolls of film, and Sandy and I headed for
downtown Victoria to take night pictures.  After about two or three rolls,
the chilly air and general lack of illuminated subject matter go to us and
we found a cafe.  Sandy then proceeded to question me for half an hour on
what exactly my research consists of and what I see myself doing once I
graduate.  I don't know if she knew the answer in the end -- but, Sandy, if
you do, could you please let me know what it is?

The following day, the photographic exercise was repeated as Ted and I
headed out for Goldstream and the Seagul and Salmon spectacle, this time
with an R8 and 280mm f/2.8 lens, plus 1.4x extender.

I got one good shot.  One.  But the depth-of-field could have been a little
greater.  Poor Ted.  To my defense, I shall only say that I don't usually
shoot slide film, it was the first time I'd used an R8, 80mm f/1.4 or 280mm
f/2.8 lens (both, btw, are increadible pieces of glass: you can comfortably
handhold the 280mm lens!)  I did shoot a fair amount of B&W with my M2 and
35mm 'cron, but I've yet to process that film (my backlog is something like
50 rolls -- and Tom's refusing to develop any more of my film ;)  Ted had
to pry the 280mm lens from my clutched fingers -- it was so cold that
they'd frozen rigid around the lens.  Well, anyway, that's my excuse and
I'm sticking to it.

Monday afternoon, after the most fabulous four-and-a-bit days imaginable,
Ted and Irene waived goodbye to me as I stepped onto the ferry.  It's
amazing what I managed to learn in those few days.  My way of seeing light
is completely different now.  I'm much more aware of the direction and
quality of light.  Little things, like how, on a humid, overcast day, the
light is diffused differently from a dry, overcast day, and how it
accentuates textures in clothing, faces, and hair while providing a gentle
rimlight to everythig.  The quality of light before and after it has rained
- -- partly due to the wet ground reflecting light back up again.  Or walking
in one direction taking pictures and Ted's voice in the back of my head
says "hey -- don't forget to turn around once in a while and see what's
behind you".

I think Ted has forever changed my awareness of light and how it translates
onto film.  Now all I have to do is shoot a few thousand rolls of film to
learn the nuances and explore the possibilities -- and learn how to use a
damn exposure meter!!

Many, many thanks to Ted, Irene, and Sandy.


M.

- -- 
Martin Howard                     |
Visiting Scholar, CSEL, OSU       |     It is essentially contestable.
email: howard.390@osu.edu         |
www: http://mvhoward.i.am/        +---------------------------------------