Friday, March 13, 2009
Jacob Young Interview in Austin Chronicle
http://www.austinchronicle.com/issues/vol18/issue36/screens.doctour.html
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Monday, October 22, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
BUNCH OF SUPER 8 LINKS!
SOME MANUALS: http://www.mondofoto.com/manuals/
A selection of Super 8 manuals uploaded for your convenience!
QUICK REFERENCE: http://www.kolumbus.fi/puistot/S8Manual.htm
When you find an old super 8 camera, it often doesn't have an instruction manual anymore. If you are not experienced with film cameras, it may be difficult to figure out how to use a certain camera. Here is a guide that tries to explain how these little babies usually work. It will help you to find the basic functions and tell you what they are there for.
SUPER8CAMERA.COM
http://www.super8camera.com/
Prrrrrrrrrr....Nothing beats the sound of a movie projector in your living room. Curtains down, screen up and there you go! Nowadays, video has taken over, but there are still many enthusiasts who use this nostalgic format for either projecting or transferring it to video for editing feature films. Why? Because of the 'look and feel' of the grain and color of authentic film. And most importantly...
It's fun! Here you can find a lot of information about super8 8mm. and a little about 16mm. moviemaking. You can find info about camera's (Nizo, Canon 1014 814, Beaulieu, Elmo, Chinon, Bauer, Bell & Howell, etc.), books, new filmstock, auctions, etc.
KODAK SUPER FILM STOCK AND ORDERING INFORMATION
http://www.kodak.com/US/en/motion/s8mm/product.jhtml?id=0.1.4.14.4&lc=en/
No matter what your film needs are Kodak has a Super 8 mm option for you. New KODAK EKTACHROME 64T film expands the current Super 8 mm portfolio that includes two black and white reversal films and two KODAK VISION2 motion picture films. For easy ordering of Super 8 mm products worldwide contact your Kodak Representative. In the U. S. & Canada call 1-800-621-FILM(3456)
SUPER 8 TODAY MAGAZINE
http://www.super8today.com/
IN RANDALL LIBRARY! Super 8 Today is a professional bi-monthly print publication, an all-new magazine and the first of its kind coming from the U.S. in over 20 years. The magazine is devoted to all aspects of Super-8 filmmaking, be it from aspiring amateurs to today's professionals.
Articles feature current news, interviews with pros, beginner's tips, marketing information, classified ads, and more. If you are a writer, please click on the writers link for information on becoming a paid freelance contributor.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Excerpts from Susan Sontag's "On Photography"
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato's cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by photographs is not like being educated by older, more artisanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photographed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of confinement in the cave, our world.
In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge -- and, therefore, like power.
Printed words seem a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpretation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper objects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, projected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually miniaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality -- photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid -- and a wider public.
Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker's film, Si j'avais quatre dromadaires (1966), a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on photographs of all sorts and themes, suggests a subtler and more rigorous way of packaging (and enlarging) still photographs. Both the order and the exact time for looking at each photograph are imposed; and there is a gain in visual legibility and emotional impact.
Even when photographers are most concerned with mirroring reality, they are still haunted by tacit imperatives of taste and conscience. The immensely gifted members of the Farm Security Administration photographic project of the late 1930s (among them Walker Evans, Dorothea Lange, Ben Shahn, Russell Lee) would take dozens of frontal pictures of one of their sharecropper subjects until satisfied that they had gotten just the right look on film -- the precise expression on the subject's face that supported their own notions about poverty, light, dignity, texture, exploitation, and geometry. In deciding how a picture should look, in preferring one exposure to another, photographers are always imposing standards on their subjects.
In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge -- and, therefore, like power.
Printed words seem a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpretation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper objects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, projected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually miniaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality -- photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid -- and a wider public.
Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker's film, Si j'avais quatre dromadaires (1966), a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on photographs of all sorts and themes, suggests a subtler and more rigorous way of packaging (and enlarging) still photographs. Both the order and the exact time for looking at each photograph are imposed; and there is a gain in visual legibility and emotional impact.
Even when photographers are most concerned with mirroring reality, they are still haunted by tacit imperatives of taste and conscience. The immensely gifted members of the Farm Security Administration photographic project of the late 1930s (among them Walker Evans, Dorothea Lange, Ben Shahn, Russell Lee) would take dozens of frontal pictures of one of their sharecropper subjects until satisfied that they had gotten just the right look on film -- the precise expression on the subject's face that supported their own notions about poverty, light, dignity, texture, exploitation, and geometry. In deciding how a picture should look, in preferring one exposure to another, photographers are always imposing standards on their subjects.
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