Kodachrome and Analog Obsolescence

Perhaps you remember or have heard of film, specifically the film called Kodachrome? Well tomorrow is the last day to get it developed, and you'll need to get it to Dwayne's Photo Lab in Kansas to have it done. Starting January 1, 2011 any pictures taken on undeveloped Kodachrome film will be lost forever. This got me thinking about the angst over digital storage, when file formats become obsolete and unsupported the information in them will effectively disappear. This is the first time I recall that something similar is happening to photographic analog storage.

Black and white film or other color film has always been fairly easy to develop in a small darkroom at home but the Kodachrome development process is complex and requires very strict process control. There has never been a Kodachrome home development kit, and there never will be. In this way undeveloped Kodachrome film is like digital media: it requires a complex infrastructure to retrieve the image data. However unlike undeveloped film (with its invisible latent image¹) developed Kodachrome film is like any other photographic film, all that's needed to "retrieve" the image data is light. Magnifying the image helps too.

Of course there are many photographic capture processes that are no longer available. The difference between all those other processes and Kodachrome is popularity. Kodachrome was the first color process widely adopted by both professionals and consumers. It was also the primary media for capturing color images for decades. Millions, if not billions, of rolls of film were sold and I am fairly certain that thousands of rolls that were exposed but never developed exist around the world.

The well-known "Zapruder Film" of the Kennedy assassination was taken with a movie camera loaded with Kodachrome². If there is any undiscovered footage taken on that day in that location it was also probably captured on Kodachrome film. If such a film is found in the future it will be difficult, if not impossible, to see those images. And there is no chance of any such film being discovered accidentally simply because a roll of film was found in a drawer and developed.

There were earlier commercially viable color processes, but none were as robust as Kodachrome. For example if you see any color film or photos taken during World War II you are more than likely looking at very early Kodachrome which was only available to the military. Widespread adoption by consumers started after the war giving Kodachrome a lifespan of about 65 years. Any photographs captured on it during that time, but undeveloped will effectively cease to exist in two days. For photographers I think there is one obvious lesson: make prints. Regardless of capture media, film³ or digital, you should print any images you want to be seen in the future. I acknowledge that prints can fail as well, either through physical damage or fading. But if you use good quality ink and paper and store them reasonably the prints have a chance of at least outlasting you. Just keep in mind that viewing prints doesn't require any complicated hardware or software, just light, and that's pretty much guaranteed to be abundantly available for the next five billion years.

1 - Encarta (http://encarta.msn.com/dictionary_1861693039/latent_image.html)
2 - I just assumed that it was, but here's a citation: Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zapruder_film)
3 - Yes I know there are a few of you still using transparency film and that you don't need prints to see them but almost all exposures these days are digital, and should be printed.

"We were very excited. . ."

". . .to see what you brought in to the show today. Where did you get this?

"I bought it at an estate sale."

"And how much did you pay?"

"Not much, a few dollars."

"Well a hundred years ago back at the beginning of the twenty first century, when disks like this could be had for a few pennies, pennies still existed then, digital photos could be stored on disks like this one. This disk happens to have the very best pictures of this noted photographer. Had you ever heard of him before?"

"No I hadn't."

"Well I'm not surprised most of his work was stored digitally and it was one of those pockets of information that was lost during the 'Great Data Conversion' of 2054. Unfortunately we don't have any of his pictures to show but according to accounts his pictures of evening landscapes have the most beautiful colors, like a Parrish painting. The composition and control of contrast in his photos are stunning though the digital screen images lack the punch of his prints. His photos of people from around the world increased their understanding of each other. He was a true master of the art but he rarely printed anything.

Now until recently we had a player for these disks but unfortunately it didn't survive being beamed here from Earth, a few of its atoms got scattered across space.

If you had brought in one of the few surviving prints made by this artist we'd be talking about some serious money right now. The disk does have a few condition issues -"

"We used to play with it as kids, rolling it down the stairs and such."

"OK, unfortunately with no way to actually view the pictures on it it doesn't have much appeal to collectors. What do you think it's worth?"

"Well I, I have no idea I've never had it appraised - er, no one has looked at it. That's why I brought it in."

"OK. Well after consulting with my colleagues, and we had quite a bit of discussion about this, I would estimate it's value to be about the same as the recycle value."

"And that would be?"

"Worthless."

"I'm sorry did you say priceless?"

No, worthless. The disk is authentic and the pictures are certainly stored on the disk but all the value is in the images, not in unviewable binary representations of them. But thanks so much for bringing this in, it was a real treat to see it. Thanks!"

Backyard Autumn Reading and Bird Report

Having exhausted my tolerance for electronic distractions and finding that the air was warm and the sunlight had a golden quality that only happens when it is filtered through autumn leaves I decided to spend late afternoon outside with a book. I completed the scene with a fire, but since it had rained the night before I built a damp steaming blaze then got down to reading.

At a quarter to five a flock of Robins suddenly arrived in the yard; they worked their way from one side to the other in a rough line. Making a loud rustling noise all out of proportion to their diminutive size they turned leaves over and charged one another in their search for dinner.

A second avian wave commenced about fifteen minutes later. Chickadees, White Breasted Nuthatches and a pair of Cardinals arrived at the back feeder. For a short time the female cardinal defended the feeder against all interlopers until she had eaten her fill and flew off. Then the chickadees and nuthatches, with the sound of fluttering wings and quiet chirps, made repeated trips, each time taking a single seed in their beaks then flying to a nearby tree. All of this activity was interesting in itself but I became part of the act when one chickadee flew from the feeder to the roof of the house, then the table next to me, then the top of the baseball hat I was wearing. I imagined that I would be an amusing sight to any neighbor that looked out and saw me reading my book with a bird perched on my head. After a few moments it flew off.

For ten minutes or so the backyard's airspace was busier than a major international airport with departures and arrivals. Eventually the birds' appetites were sated with only a few latecomers appearing sporadically. I waited a little while to let the fire burn down then decided it was time to forage for my own dinner.

Rant About Buying a Photo Backpack

I'm convinced there is no perfect photo backpack, only almost-but-not-quite-right packs. This explains my growing collection of photo-gear lugging-gear. Each backpack seems to have at least one flaw that prevents it from achieving backpack nirvana. Also I'm not into the giant packs, I really need about 715 cubic inches of space (W11" x D5" x H13") plus a pocket for a laptop. I'm using the pack to transport my photo equipment by car or plane; on arrival I'll unload chargers, cables, laptop, etc. to use it for an eight-to-ten-hour day of shooting and I'll be carrying it for about a third of that time.

So I'm looking for a new backpack and have decided this is what manufacturers need to show their customers (people doing online video reviews should do the same):

• The very first photo should be of someone who is 5' 10" in height wearing the backpack so I can get a feel for the size. Printing the exterior dimensions with a photo of the pack sitting on a white seamless background isn't good enough.
• The next photo should show the same person wearing the pack with the waist straps in use. Far too many packs have useless waist straps because they are too high above my hips (and I'm average height).
• While you're at it hook up the sternum strap.
• Are the eyelets of the zippers big enough so that a TSA sanctioned lock will fit through them to secure the pack?
• Show the pack with a tripod that extends to 60" (without the centerpost being raised) clipped into place. Three or four leg sections, your choice.

Of course show the obligatory pack laden with glittering lenses picture, but everyone can do that, I mean, it is a photo backpack right? And if it isn't obvious the features mentioned in the list above are almost required for me to buy the pack (but I'll probably compromise, see paragraph one above about fatal flaws). Lastly, if you want to delight your customers ship each pack with a pocket for a water bottle, and a bottle, that would be perfect!

Economy

In the not so distant past when the only food available was what was in season the act of canning food in the summer for use in the winter was probably undertaken as a necessary chore. I imagine that most people today, if they are aware of canning at all, think of it as pointless work since almost all fruits and vegetables are available year round. But there is a deep satisfaction that comes from making food (preferably from produce grown in your own garden) and storing it away for the future.

Jars of pizza sauce cooling. Happiness and contentment.

Canning is not an easy task, there is preparation to be done including picking, washing, cutting, and maybe cooking. There is lively discussion, "Is that Basil or Parsley?" "Should the water be boiling when the jars go in, or just simmering?" And finally waiting for that tell-tale pop from each lid that indicates a jar is sealed, and that all the work that went into it was successful. The best part about canning is the feeling of satisfaction. Satisfaction that you have filled a basic need. Satisfaction that in the dark and cold of February you can open a jar of pears that you canned in the fall and those pears remind you that spring must come again and it is not so far away.

When the canning is finished and the equipment washed there is a contentment and peacefulness found in contemplating the jars cooling on the counter. Canning is a positive act that engages the best human characteristics: nurturing a garden, caring for living beings, patience as the plants grow, skilled work processing the produce in the jars, storing the food for the future, and finally enjoying the hard work when a jar is opened. In closing I must thank my parents for my introduction to canning; even the memory of those days when I came home from school and the house was filled with an almost over-powering smell of vinegar because relish was being canned has not been enough to prevent me from doing the same (canning that is, not making relish).

Squelch Kings of Maine

They have been burning rubber in Maine as long as I can remember. My grandfather called them "figure 8s." My Maine cousins called them "squelch marks" (written English does not even come close to conveying the proper pronunciation of "squelch," to say it properly involves copious amounts of air and saliva). Squelch marks should never be confused with skid marks; skid marks are caused by braking so hard that the tires lock up. Squelch marks happen when the tires of a vehicle get spinning so fast that they heat up and melt. As a tire becomes softer from the heat it begins to grip the road enough to drive the vehicle forward, but it still spins faster than the vehicle is moving so it leaves a layer of rubber behind. As the vehicle catches up with the tire there is less slipping so the tire cools, and eventually the squelch fades out. The other thing to note in this squelch tutorial is that with the rear tires slipping they tend to also move sideways as they push the heavy front of the vehicle. As the driver steers to correct his course (if he can) it causes the marks to wander back and forth often forming a gentle sine wave. It is common to find two marks made near each other weaving back and forth, if done with skill the two marks will cross each other, appearing like two twisted threads or a series of 8s strung together. Now you understand the basics of burning rubber.

The longest and darkest squelch marks I can recall. These were not created at the same time.

We drove to Maine earlier this summer and arrived in Blue Hill very early in the morning, still it was light enough to see that there were some very recently laid down and impressive squelch marks. It occurred to me that they might make an interesting series of photographs. I remember thinking two things about how the photos should be made: they should be black and white, and the light should be thin overcast, not direct sunlight. By the time I was able to schedule the shoot I had limited time and the light was alternating between direct noon sunlight and shadow caused by a passing cloud. I made a loop of routes 176 and 172 looking for the best marks and I photographed four different ones that day, but only two resulted in pictures worth displaying. I've learned that the best pictures have the road converging on the horizon with two marks. Of the two rejects one has very good light and the road converges with just a slight curve but there is only a single mark and it is to the side of the right lane. When I took the photo I stood far off the center of the road and the picture looks unbalanced. The other photograph was made on a curve and the road arcs from one side of the scene to the other. The resulting picture looks like a rather pedestrian photo of a road.

These marks were created at the same time, both rear tires are spinning which is unusual with modern vehicles.

All of my "fine art" pictures are heavily manipulated, though they don't often look like it (I'm ambivalent about this result, I spend a lot of time trying to get a print that matches how I previsualized the scene, and in the end it's difficult for a viewer to see the work that went into the image). These images have had local and global contrast changes. Some regions have been lightened or darkened, but the marks themselves have not been specifically altered. I've had the prints on display for two days at work and often the first question is, "what did you do to the skid marks?" After I explain that they are not skid marks (see paragraph one) my answer is, "nothing." They really were this dark.

Now I think that each year I will have to do a squelch mark survey of routes 176 and 172 to keep adding to my collection. Maybe someday there will be a squelch retrospective in the Surry Community Hall. I like to think that a fabled Squelch King will recognize his handiwork and proudly claim it as his own, and on that day I can ask the question that has been on my mind many years now, "How can you afford to wreck tires like that?"

Gorham Mountain Under the Stars

It is difficult to understate the beauty of Maine's Atlantic coast. This thin strip of land at the continent's frontier winds along for thousands of miles. Where the tide rises and falls much of this ever-changing line is defined by a meeting of water and rock. Not far east of where the Penobscot River nearly divides the state's coast in half is Mount Desert Island, here the waves unfurl against pink granite. The island rises steeply out of the water and is divided into a series of glacially sculpted north to south running mountains separated by valleys. Gorham Mountain is on the east shore of the island, its pine-forested ocean-side flank runs down to Frenchman Bay where many of Acadia National Park's most well-known natural features are found.

Of Mount Desert Island's eminences Gorham is unlikely to be listed among the most well-known peaks. It is far from the tallest mountain, Cadillac towers above it by more than a thousand feet. It does not have any trails with challenges like Champlain's Precipice Trail or The Beehive's south face trail. However, while it is difficult to quantify its panoramic beauty, there is no doubt that the vista of forest and ocean that can be seen from just south of the summit is among the best places to experience what makes Mount Desert so unique. From where the summit begins to drop away in a series of jointed steps the eastern and southern sides of the island where the mountain disappears into the sea can be seen including Sand Beach, Otter Point, and Seal Cove.

But the view is only part of what makes Gorham Mountain an ideal place for nighttime photography; on summer evenings the Milky Way is in the south over the ocean. The peak, behind and to the north, casts a long dark shadow where the lights of Bar Harbor and Ellsworth are blotted out. The distance from the nearest parking to the summit is not far and takes only minutes to hike.

Gorham Mountain Trail starts at the Park Loop Road and proceeds up the south ridge of the mountain. This same ridge with a trail riding it continues on from Gorham's summit where it joins with The Beehive. From this point the ridge pushes north to the height of Champlain Mountain. If Cadillac Mountain is the king of Mount Desert then Champlain is its powerful queen. Champlain commands the north and east sides of the island with its challenging trails to the summit and an all-encompassing view of Frenchman Bay.

The sun is just setting as we begin to head up the trail. From the parking lot the trail ascends over ledges and eroded dips, at the bronze Bates marker it splits into parallel trails that merge back together near the summit; we take the upper trail. As we get near the summit the trees become more scattered and shorter, we are entering the typical approach to the bare peak of a Mount Desert Island mountain. The granite here is scoured and undulating, low spots accumulate sand, pine needles, and water. In other places a thin layer of sandy soil, home to wild Blue Berries and small Pitch Pines, perches atop the stone.

Near the peak at the edge of a small ledge I begin scouting the terrain looking for the best location to make a long exposure photograph of the Milky Way; it needs the right balance between foreground granite, middle ground forest and water, and distant sky. I try to envision the trailing glow of the Milky Way arching overhead in the dark however I am distracted by the inauspicious fog that is pushing north up the bay and beginning to climb into the sky. The fog, rising like a breaking wave, smashes the original plan; the Milky Way will be hidden tonight behind clouds.

Turning from the southeast to the west the sky is clear and dark blue now that the sun is well down. Only thin wisps of cloud float like streamers. Saturn blazes near the horizon and the brightest stars are making their appearances. I decide to try to photograph in this direction; I compose the image of coniferous trees and azure sky then begin making test exposures. After half an hour the lingering twilight has evaporated into the black of night and I start the camera operating on its own. Now there is only waiting.


Stars Over Gorham Mountain

Sarah and I lie on the rock by the edge and look straight up into the starry sky. The bell buoy marking The Thrumcap rings out a muted warning as it is rocked gently by an unusually placid ocean. A separate beat is played out by the legato rasp and then staccato thump of waves breaking on the sloping granite below. The crash of each wave can be felt, as much as heard, through the ground beneath us. I press a hand flat against the rough surface. The granite is comfortably warm, emitting the heat it absorbed all day under the sun. Overhead the stars circle imperceptibly and I consider how it is that of all the light that has left their surfaces these tiny amounts have travelled from distant space and deep time to form the beautiful night sky I see above me. My perception of Gorham Mountain, of its enormous size and solidity changes, and the mountain shrinks becoming infinitesimal. My view of the universe has become boundless and I feel as if I will float off of the mountain into space if I don't hold on tightly.

Finally all the pictures that can be made tonight are finished. Reluctantly we get out our lights and I pack the equipment, putting away the camera and collapsing the tripod; I slip my arms into the straps of the camera pack and we start descending. With headlamps we can only see a dozen or so feet in front of us. On heavily trafficed rocky ground it can be difficult to be certain where the trail is, so we stop fairly often to locate a cairn or blaze to be certain we have not wandered off course. Below the treeline it doesn't feel as if the warm air is moving at all, and the forest is absolutely quiet, the only sound is from our boots scuffing the ground. At last the sign marking the trail head comes into view; we haven't encountered another person the entire time, and our time spent with ocean, mountain, and stars is ended.

away from here

where the setting sunlight is filtered across the hillside sloping away,
treetops, and tall grass until all their green is replaced by yellow and red
where you know a white pine not by counting five needles,
but by the way the wind soughs through it
where the distant sound of small waves
lapping the shore wakes you with its sigh
where contented red sunset silhouettes murmur, sip coffee,
while the cries of loons echo
when the stars wheel coolly above and the fire has consumed cares
and burns smokily low and the fading embers reflect redly in your eyes

Evening Dispatch from the Lion of the Genesee

It is a popular activity in this part of New York to complain about living here. If you ask a local to describe how they feel about residing here you will most likely first hear about "high taxes." It seems that a flood of ink has been spilled over taxes in Upstate New York, enough to drown all other considerations of the region's overwhelmingly exceptional benefits.

Fortunately those of us that live here and are paying attention know the truth; if you don't spend your time grubbing in the till you will discover yourself in one of the the most idyllic places on Earth.

While our current home is no Walden, either in size or quiet solitude it often has a transcendental beauty in the evening. Long shadows thrown across the yard by the low sun; Gold Finches chirupping quietly to each other in the trees while Baltimore Orioles cackle.

In the vegetable garden beans and corn have sprouted, breaking out of the earth. With simple tending they will turn sunlight, air, water, and soil into food. We are partners with them - we provide them sustenance and they will sustain us. Fortunately in the Realm of the Genesee there is usually just the right amount of rainfall and sunlight. If there is ever a growing season without enough rain, the largest freshwater lake ecosystem on the planet is nearby.

A Blue Jay visits the nearby cherry tree inspecting the crop. The Jay hops from branch to branch turning the clusters of green cherries over to see if any are ripe. The cherries aren't near ready yet, but a variety of species remain vigilant. If the Jays don't take all of them before they are ready a small flock of Cedar Waxwings will make a rare visit, to gorge on what is probably more than their fair share.

Spring flowers are now several weeks past, but early summer flowers are at their peak. The petals of Red and Pink Peonies are translucent in the ruddy evening light. The sun's last rays are caught in the top branches of the Poplar trees, leaves turning gold; with the lengthening days come long evenings. Night doesn't fall, rather twilight steals in on cool air. The stars appear stealthily as the indigo sky darkens. Now the Poplar leaves twist and flicker in the slight breeze.

There may be more beautiful places than here, but not this evening. It's a shame that so many of the region's inhabitants won't see the beauty around them; their blindness imposes a tax on their lives far greater than any monetary value.

Sunday Editorials Amok!

Many of you will not be surprised at my slowness, but I have only recently come to the realization that many of the authors of editorials on the D&C opinion page don't know more than I do or write better than I can; their crucial talent is convincing a newspaper's opinion page editor that they do.

Today's examples are from George Will and Cal Thomas. Mr. Will's premise is that "California is 'on the verge' of becoming something without an American precedent — 'a failed state.'" (perhaps it could be argued that several failed states occurred in the middle of the nineteenth century, but I digress). Mr. Will then settles in to gnaw that old conservative bone; taxes are causing the smart people with all the money to flee.

"It took years for liberalism's redistributive itch to create an income tax so steeply progressive that it prompts the flight from the state of wealth-creators: Since 1990, it's estimated that 3.4 million more Americans moved from California to one of the other 49 states than moved to California from another state."

This number looks impressive, if read quickly it implies that California is losing more population than any other state with the phrase "49 states". Of course all that's really stated is that 3.4 million more people left California than moved there. It's certainly possible that other lower taxed states lost an even larger percentage of their population to other states. Mr. Will conveniently fails to provide any comparisons.

"California, which between 1990 and 2007 lost 26 percent of its factory jobs and 35 percent of its high-tech manufacturing jobs, ranks behind only New York, another of liberalism's laboratories, in the number of outward-bound moving vans."

No doubt the people that lost jobs in factories and manufacturing were important to California's economy but normally Mr. Will doesn't classify those jobs as "wealth-creators". That designation is usually reserved for the barons of Silicon Valley. I note here that the City of San Jose's population rose by 14.4% between 1990 and 2000 and has continued to grow since then. The metropolitan area grew about 12%.

To summarize: 3.4 million people left California, 26% of factory jobs and 35% of high-tech manufacturing jobs in the state were eliminated. Conclusion, high taxes are to blame. This editorial is so full of rhetorical weaknesses that a high school forensics team would be embarrassed. To whit, if you don't have facts make comparisons with different units: a count of people leaving versus percentages of jobs lost. Also fail to define your terms: what is considered a "high-tech" manufacturing job? Finally ignore any other reasons for people moving (older population retiring?) or jobs being lost (lower wages of overseas workers in manufacturing jobs?).

Whether or not California will become a failed state isn't really addressed. Such a scenario probably has more to do with the state's political insanity known as "propositions" which allow voting minorities to grant themselves any ideological boon they can dream up (from restricting property tax increases to mandating eduction spending). Today George Will isn't in need of a fact checker so much as a logic checker.

Cal Thomas defends Brit Hume and takes offense at being part of the religious majority. In his premise Mr. Thomas is either ignorant of Christianity or dissembling.

"In a day when some extremists employ violence to advance their religion, it is curious that many would save their criticism for a truly peace-bringing message such as the one broadcast by Brit Hume."

Jesus may have redeemed the human race, but he acknowledged that his message was not peaceful. In Matthew 10:34 he said, "I come not to bring peace, but to bring a sword". While it is very unlikely Jesus was encouraging his followers to take up arms he certainly acknowledged that his message would cause strife. In another aside I note that Mr. Thomas's implied separation of Christianity from other religions by its alleged peacefulness fails; the history of Christianity (and also the present day), is also full of extremists advancing it through violent means.

While I doubt that Brit Hume needs Mr. Thomas's defense, his public preaching to Tiger Woods is startling as Mr. Hume seems to have no qualifications for such counseling, his noted accomplishments to date are a history book, memoir, reading from a teleprompter, and a willingness to express his opinions.

Here Mr. Thomas briefly diverts confusingly into a rant about those who take Jesus's name in vain and how that would never be tolerated if using the name of Mohamed.

Finally Mr. Thomas arrives at the reason Brit Hume's comments have caused consternation for some commentators.

"Christians like Hume are not trying to impose anything on anyone. They know the difference Jesus has made in their lives and want to share His message in the hope that other lives will be similarly transformed.

When he was president, Jimmy Carter shared his faith with South Korean President Park Chung Hee as the two rode in a limousine on the way to the airport."

What Cal Thomas fails to understand is that sharing your personal faith in private (as President Carter did) where the recipient may respond with some freedom, is different from calling out someone in public during a personal crisis and imposing on them to respond. If Mr. Hume was a close friend of Tiger Woods and he chose to share his beliefs in private it would be hard to object, to offer unsought advice as a publicity stunt is just rude.