Archived posting to the Leica Users Group, 2008/08/06
[Author Prev] [Author Next] [Thread Prev] [Thread Next] [Author Index] [Topic Index] [Home] [Search]Not just the nostalgia--there's a piece in today's Wall St. Journal about a group that's saving the huge size Polaroid: Big Artists, Big Camera: Not a Typical Polaroid By MARY PANZER August 6, 2008; Page D7 When, back in February, Petters Group Worldwide, current owner of Polaroid Corp., announced that it would stop producing instant photography film, the company left the door open for any interested party to acquire the technology needed to manufacture the film for whatever customers remained. As a result, investor and philanthropist Daniel H. Stern and long-time Polaroid artist John Reuter now have "an agreement in principle" to produce the chemicals and related products essential for making Polaroid images. But don't expect to buy film for your old SX 70 or Swinger. Their company, 20X24 Holdings LLC, will support only the Polaroid 20x24, which produces images two feet high and 20 inches wide. Polaroid introduced the model in the late 1970s as a glamour product. According to Eelco Wolf, director of world-wide marketing at the time, the gamble paid off. No conventional camera could make film negatives this large, or match the intense colors and the thick, almost three-dimensional quality of the images. But the cameras did not fly off the assembly line. The 20x24 requires a camera as big as a refrigerator, an enormous lens, movie-bright lights, and, crucially, skilled operators, able to load the camera, prepare for the shot, and pull exposed paper through rollers that distribute the chemicals evenly across the surface. The image comes out as a heavy sheet of paper covered by a light-tight protective layer with active chemicals in between. The operator slices the package away from the camera and sets the timer. About a minute later, technicians remove the protective layer to reveal the final result. Only six cameras were made. Inventor Edwin Land housed one with the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, to make near-perfect reproductions of paintings. Mr. Wolf, however, imagined that the images could be independent works of art. He invited William Wegman, Lucas Samaras, Elsa Dorfman and Timothy Greenfield-Sanders to experiment with the camera, and their careers became closely connected to the process. In 1985, Messrs. Reuter and Wolf set up a studio in SoHo, looking to turn the 20x24 from a novelty into a profit-making machine. While commercial clients enjoyed the camera as spectacle, artists were the most loyal patrons. Mr. Reuter and his staff provided the technical support so that the artists could achieve the pictures they wanted. The camera is a popular choice for portraiture. Everyone describes the intimate relationship that develops between sitter and photographer as the session unfolds one image at a time. Mary Ellen Mark notes that famous subjects are willing to spend more time with her because they are curious about the process. For Chuck Close, who made his name painting portraits as big as a wall, and who is well known for his constant experiments with media, the 20x24 images seemed a logical tool. On a more practical level it suits him, because since 1988 he has been severely paralyzed, confined to a wheelchair and able to move his hands just enough to hold a brush. Making art on the 20x24 requires only what he does best -- imagine a picture and react to the image. Over 75 artists have used the camera in the past 30 years, among them Julian Schnabel and Joyce Tenneson, and younger artists such as Dawoud Bey and Caroline Chiu. As Polaroid Corp. declined, Mr. Reuter held on, not knowing how long his contract and supplies would last. Predictably enough, with the end in sight, artists booked every available hour. (Five cameras are still active, including two in New York and one each in Cambridge, Mass., San Francisco and Prague.) Now 20X24 Holdings has set up a new studio in Tribeca, where, on July 16, Mr. Reuter, executive director, and Jennifer Trausch, director of photography, resumed working with artists and commercial photographers. Buzz Spector, who makes still lifes, was the first; Mr. Close followed two days later. What makes the 20x24 worth saving? Mr. Reuter calls it the "king of all Polaroids," because "it amplifies every aspect of the process." Size. Near-instant results. The seductive steps needed to produce a picture. The sheer beauty of the prints themselves. Ms. Dorfman, who does her own technical work, compares every session to "a high wire act. Like hang gliding, either you do it, or you fail. And if you fail, you fail in front of everybody." She notes that the families and couples who are a large part of her business incur the same risk. "It's a daredevil performance for my clients, too." As a result, her sitters appear both spontaneous and alert. Mr. Close takes pleasure in the finished, tactile quality of the 20x24 images. "Digital is instant, but the image has no object status. . . . It's just something on a screen, an intermediate stage" on the way to being something else. Ms. Mark concurs. She calls her work with the 20x24 "the purest form of photography. . . . You're making a print and taking a picture at the same moment. You can't correct it in a darkroom." At a time when digital technology has replaced its analog antecedents in every area of reproduction and dissemination, traditional photographs have a nostalgic quality. Why preserve such an obsolete process? As Mr. Close points out, being out of date is hardly unique to the 20x24 camera. "All art is a buggy-whip business." He is a fan of obsolete photographic methods. For example, he also makes daguerreotypes, one the oldest forms of photography, and one that, like the Polaroid, was abandoned with the onset of new methods. Digital technology is an infinitely malleable form of picture-making, with changes almost impossible to detect. So every photograph, even the most innocent, can inspire doubt. Much of this response is justified. Photographers have always altered their images. Clever technicians could always add or remove details, backgrounds, even people without arousing suspicion. But an original negative will betray any changes made to subsequent prints. Only the Polaroid process can guarantee that the picture you see is identical to the subject that stood before the camera. The 20x24, a lovely, archaic piece of technology, preserves the one form of photography you can trust. -----Original Message----- From: lug-bounces+jshul=comcast.net@leica-users.org [mailto:lug-bounces+jshul=comcast.net@leica-users.org] On Behalf Of Chris Williams Sent: Wednesday, August 06, 2008 10:26 PM To: Leica Users Group Subject: Re: [Leica] Photokina Predictions Digital Nikon RF would be sweet, and not just a Japan only camera. A D3 sensor on a RF, I'm drooling on my 85mm. Why would Olympus put out a digital RF? Shouldn't it be Sony/ex Konica? Betcha Fuji updates their film though as thy always seem to do. Yes, someone save Polaroid just for nostalgia. Chris ----- Original Message ----- From: "Tina Manley" <images@comporium.net> To: <lug@leica-users.org> Sent: Wednesday, August 06, 2008 8:35 PM Subject: [Leica] Photokina Predictions > From Mason Resnick: > > 10. Something big from Leica, but it won't be a full-frame rangefinder. It > might be a full-frame R-series DSLR, something we haven't seen yet. > > http://www.adorama.com/catalog.tpl?op=NewsDesk_Internal&article_num=080608-1 > > And more. > > Tina > > Tina Manley > www.tinamanley.com > _______________________________________________ > Leica Users Group. > See http://leica-users.org/mailman/listinfo/lug for more information _______________________________________________ Leica Users Group. See http://leica-users.org/mailman/listinfo/lug for more information