The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mentor: Photography, Vol. 6, Num. 12, Serial No. 160, August 1, 1918, by Paul L. Anderson This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: The Mentor: Photography, Vol. 6, Num. 12, Serial No. 160, August 1, 1918 Author: Paul L. Anderson Release Date: August 6, 2015 [EBook #49640] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MENTOR: PHOTOGRAPHY *** Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THE MENTOR 1918.08.01, No. 160, Photography Cover page LEARN ONE THING EVERY DAY AUGUST 1 1918 SERIAL NO. 160 THE MENTOR PHOTOGRAPHY By PAUL L. ANDERSON DEPARTMENT OF FINE ARTS VOLUME 6 NUMBER 12 TWENTY CENTS A COPY A Voice From Far Cathay Dear Mentor:—One of my most respected college professors advised his classes to review their several groups of studies every seven years, and in the broad, I agree with the advice. It is just this review that The Mentor gives some of us. The Mentor is not learned. It furnishes a most readable review, with pithy editorials and discriminatively selected pictures. It can be appreciated by the man who has never been outside the town of his birth, and it can be enjoyed by the person who has converted stamped gold into the legal tender which lets one into the city, or gallery, or park, or museum, or observatory described; and it can be read with profit by the one who is interpreting life in the class room. I usually read it by bits between courses at the dinner table, and it often has taken the place of another seat. It has this advantage: it never talks shop, save in an entertaining way. The pictures make good material for “identification” or “information tests.” A selection of twenty makes good material for one “stunt” of an evening for a small group of guests. But I like them best for use in a bulletin board in my class room. With titles or brief notes translated into Chinese, they attract the students around the board between classes. It is an easy matter to have a series of fifteen or twenty groups through the year, that are of interest to one’s students, and give real information and stimulus. This letter is not designed to lead you to believe that the publication takes its place with the essential possessions of the American missionary in the Orient—the Bible, Montgomery Ward catalog, and tennis racquet—but it is written that you may know that it helps one to keep “fit.” In appreciation, yours, Daniel S. Dye West China Union University Chengtu, West China THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION ESTABLISHED FOR THE DEVELOPMENT OF A POPULAR INTEREST IN ART, LITERATURE, SCIENCE, HISTORY, NATURE, AND TRAVEL THE MENTOR IS PUBLISHED TWICE A MONTH BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC., AT 114-116 EAST 16TH STREET, NEW YORK, N. Y. SUBSCRIPTION, FOUR DOLLARS A YEAR. FOREIGN POSTAGE 75 CENTS EXTRA. CANADIAN POSTAGE 50 CENTS EXTRA. SINGLE COPIES TWENTY CENTS. PRESIDENT, THOMAS H. BECK; VICE-PRESIDENT, WALTER P. TEN EYCK; SECRETARY, W. D. MOFFAT; TREASURER, J. S. CAMPBELL; ASSISTANT TREASURER AND ASSISTANT SECRETARY, H. A. CROWE. AUGUST 1st, 1918. VOLUME 6. NUMBER 12. Entered as second-class matter, March 10, 1918, at the postoffice at New York. N.Y., under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright, 1918, by The Mentor Association, Inc. BY PAUL L. ANDERSON PHOTOGRAPH FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE PHOTOGRAPHY A Daguerreotype ONE ouis Jacques Mande Daguerre (born 1789, died 1851), was a great French scene-painter who experimented for many years trying to find some way of rendering permanent the image projected by a lens. J. Nicéphore Niépce was engaged in the same research, and from 1829 until the death of Niépce in 1833 the two worked together, but it was not until some years after the latter date that Daguerre discovered the process that bears his name. This process may be briefly described as follows: a highly polished and perfectly clean silver plate is rendered sensitive to light by the formation of a deposit of silver iodide on the surface, this being accomplished by exposing the plate—of course in the dark—for some minutes to the vapor of iodine. When the plate has assumed a uniform golden-brown color it is placed in the camera and the exposure is made, the light projected by the lens causing a chemical change to take place in the silver iodide. The image thus obtained is very weak, and in order to strengthen it the plate is exposed for some minutes to the vapor of mercury. It is subsequently fixed, or rendered permanent, by bathing with a solution of sodium thiosulphate (ordinarily known to photographers as “hypo”). This dissolves the silver compounds that were not affected by light. In some cases the picture is still further strengthened by treating it with chloride of gold. This not only increases the vigor of the image but at the same time improves its stability, so that it is less likely to fade as the result of atmospheric action or exposure to light. The effect of the chloride of gold is literally to gold-plate the image. As the surface of the completed daguerreotype is very sensitive to any mechanical action, it must be protected by glass. A mere touch of the finger leaves an irremediable scratch. The daguerreotype was at one time very popular for portraiture, but the process has certain drawbacks that have caused it to be superseded by improved methods. Among these drawbacks are the following: The exposures required are rather long; it is impossible to make duplicates—a separate exposure must be made for each picture; the picture must be held at a certain angle to make it visible, and the process is rather expensive and laborious to work. Nevertheless, exquisite effects may be obtained in daguerreotype; the writer has seen pictures of this kind which for sheer beauty yield to none of the modern printing mediums. The decadence of the daguerreotype is to be regretted for at least one reason,—the man who elected to work in that medium was necessarily at least a craftsman, whereas at the present time many photographers are neither artists nor craftsmen, but merely mechanics of only fair skill. Photography has been brought to such a state of perfection that good technical results may be obtained by persons that work by rote and know absolutely nothing of the principles underlying the craft. This lack of training and enthusiasm for the work must evidently be reflected in the results obtained. There are few forms of portraiture art that equal in beauty choice early examples of daguerreotype photography. They have the exquisite delicacy, softness and individual charm of the best miniature portraits. Good old daguerreotypes are treasured possessions in the homes of many families—and rightly so, for they combine a fine quality of art with a gentle personal appeal. WRITTEN FOR THE MENTOR BY PAUL L. ANDERSON ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR. VOL. 6, No. 12, SERIAL No. 160 COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC. FROM A PRINT BY ALVIN LANGDON COBURN SELF-PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPH—By D. O. Hill PHOTOGRAPHY Portraits by D. O. Hill TWO avid Octavius Hill (born 1802, died 1870), was a Scotch painter who conceived the idea of producing a great historical picture representing the Disruption of the Church of Scotland. This work involved painting some four or five hundred portraits, and Hill, despairing of obtaining satisfactory sittings from so many persons, turned to the newly discovered art of photography to furnish the portraits he needed, with the idea of using the photographs as a guide in painting. Hill used the calotype process, invented by Fox Talbot, which rendered a piece of paper sensitive to light by coating it with iodide of silver. When it was exposed in the camera and developed, a negative resulted, and positive prints were made from this negative in the same medium. Hill became so much interested in photography that he worked with it for several years, to the neglect of his painting. During those years he produced photographic portraits which have certainly never been surpassed, and which some people think have never been equalled. The exposures necessary were very long—four or five minutes in bright sunlight. This fact lends a great deal of beauty to the results, for there is no doubt that full sunlight gives effects that cannot be obtained in any other way, and these may be of surpassing beauty, provided the photographer is skilful enough to manage his apparatus and pose the sitter properly. It is regrettable that so many photographers of the present day shun out-door portraiture, for there is unquestionably a great opportunity in that class of work. The claim of some photographers that out-door light is not satisfactory for portraiture is refuted by Hill’s results. Hill was not a great painter. His works in that medium are well-nigh forgotten, but he was unquestionably a man of great sensitiveness, who possessed the quality of psychic insight so necessary to a portrait worker. It is the estimate of an authority that, though he could never be compared with the great masters of portraiture, Rembrandt and Velasquez, nevertheless his works are entitled to a place in the second rank. Hill was especially fortunate in his sitters, for the men and women that he photographed were persons whom it would be difficult to render commonplace in appearance, among them being Christopher North (Professor John Wilson), J. G. Lockhart, Lady Ruthven, Robert Haldane, William Henning, Mrs. Anna Brownell Jameson, and others of equal note in Great Britain. The paper negatives made by Hill are carefully preserved. The writer is fortunate in the possession of prints from two of these negatives. The reproduction shown herewith, a gum-platinum plate made and given to him by Alvin Langdon Coburn, is from one of them. Much of the beauty of this example of Hill’s work is due to modern printing methods, but the quality in this negative, brought out in the print, proves undeniably that Hill merits recognition as a master of portraiture. WRITTEN FOR THE MENTOR BY PAUL L. ANDERSON ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR. VOL. 6, No. 12, SERIAL No. 160 COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC. PHOTOGRAPHED AT YERKES OBSERVATORY, WILLIAMS BAY, WISCONSIN. OCTOBER 19, 1911 BROOKS’ COMET—Astronomical Photograph PHOTOGRAPHY Astronomical Photography THREE hotography has made possible many discoveries of tremendous importance in the realm of astronomy by revealing the existence of stars too faint—because of their small size or great distance—to be seen by the eye. This is one of the most conspicuous ways in which the sensitive plate has been an aid to the scientist. A device for carrying a photographic plate is attached to a telescope and the plate exposed to the image projected by the telescope for a prolonged period. This may, in fact, amount to several hours; exposures are sometimes partly completed one night and finished the next, a comparatively small area of the heavens being chosen for investigation at one time. On development of the plate the stars are counted and compared with existing charts of the area in question. Of course this method requires that the telescope move with the same angular velocity as that of the earth’s rotation, so that the image of each star may remain in precisely the same position on the plate during the entire time of exposure. Otherwise the star would be represented as a trail of light, the slightest variation in the speed of rotation being sufficient to cause blurring of the image. It is apparent that the clockwork employed for driving the telescope must be a marvel of accuracy. The power which this method possesses of revealing hitherto undiscovered stars depends on a curious fact. If an observer looks into the eye-piece of a telescope he can discern only those heavenly bodies that send to the earth a certain minimum of light; but when a photographic plate is exposed for long periods there is a cumulative effect of light on the sensitive emulsion. That is, the long-continued impact of the light rays causes, little by little, a gradual change in the constitution of the sensitive silver salt. The action thus piles up, so to speak, and records light that is far below the visible minimum. The photographic plate has not only aided discoveries in the vast realms of interstellar space, but has also revealed to us things so exceedingly minute that no other method of observation could bring them within the range of our perceptions. WRITTEN FOR THE MENTOR BY PAUL L. ANDERSON ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR. VOL. 6, No. 12, SERIAL No. 160 COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC. BY PAUL L. ANDERSON PORTRAIT—By the Bromoil Process PHOTOGRAPHY A Bromoil Print FOUR n the bromoil process, the first step is to make a bromide enlargement. The negative from which a print is to be made is placed in an apparatus resembling the familiar stereopticon and an enlarged image is projected on a piece of bromide paper, or paper that has been coated with an emulsion similar to that used for plates. After the paper has been exposed to the image it is developed, fixed and washed, the result being a large positive print of the original small negative. Often this print is allowed to remain as it is, and it is then known as a bromide enlargement, or, simply, an enlargement; sometimes the worker converts it into a bromoil. The image in an enlargement consists of metallic silver in a film of gelatine, the gradations of the picture resulting from the varying thicknesses of the silver image. The first step toward changing this to a bromoil is to treat it with certain chemicals that bleach out the silver image and at the same time harden the gelatine in proportion to the amount of silver present. The bleached print is then soaked in warm water, and the high-lights of the picture, where the gelatine is least hardened, absorb the water freely, the half-tones less so, and the shadows least of all. An oily ink, then dabbed on the print with a brush, adheres freely in the shadows, less freely in the half-tones, and least of all in the lights, being repelled by the water in the film. The final result is a print in which the image is formed by varying thickness of ink, which, of course, may be of any color. The advantages of bromoil over bromide are numerous. In the first place, a bromide print cannot be regarded as absolutely permanent, but a bromoil may be. Next, the color of a bromide print is limited to black and varying shades of brown, unless chemical toning is resorted to, which still further reduces the stability of the image. But a bromoil may be of almost any color, and, indeed, of different colors in different portions of the picture. The greatest advantage of the bromoil process, however, lies in the fact that as much or as little ink as may be desired can be put on any given area. By varying the consistency of the ink it can be made to adhere more or less freely. By modifying the brush action it can be placed on the print or omitted from it, and can even, at times, be removed after being deposited on the paper. It will be seen that the artist has complete control over the gradations, and to some extent, also, over the outlines of the picture. He can therefore make the process respond to his desire for artistic expression to an extent not possible with any other photographic printing medium, even the superficial texture of the image being largely under the worker’s control. A variant of bromoil is the oil process, though it would be more correct to put it the other way about, the latter process being the older of the two. A sheet of paper is coated with gelatine alone, this being rendered sensitive to light by means of certain chemicals and then printed under a negative. The effect is to render the gelatine hard in proportion to the amount of light-action, that is, hardest in the shadows, less so in the half-tones, and least of all in the lights. The print is then washed to remove the excess of sensitizer, and soaked in warm water; the subsequent operations are the same as in bromoil. Oil is superior to bromoil in being slightly easier to manipulate and in not requiring a dark-room, but it is inferior in that it demands either daylight or a powerful artificial light for printing. Furthermore, a negative the size of the finished print is necessary, whereas with bromoil, large prints can be made from small negatives. Oil and bromoil have the drawback of not being very rapid to work, three or four 11×14 bromoils representing a good day’s work for a careful manipulator, but they are by far the most satisfactory of all photographic printing mediums when the desire is for artistic expression. WRITTEN FOR THE MENTOR BY PAUL L. ANDERSON ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR. VOL. 6, No. 12, SERIAL No. 160 COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC. PHOTOGRAPH BY PAUL L. ANDERSON THE LAKE, WINTER—Nature Photography PHOTOGRAPHY Pictorial Photography FIVE he accompanying photograph entitled “The Lake, Winter,” illustrates admirably the use of the soft- focus lens. It is also of interest as showing the advantages sometimes to be gained from the intentional use of defects. The normal human eye is unsurpassed for the purpose for which it is designed; it is difficult to imagine an organ more perfect in this respect. The eye automatically, and almost instantaneously, adjusts itself for near or distant objects and for varying intensities of light, and has, moreover, a field of view of nearly 180 degrees—almost a complete half-circle. Nevertheless, it has two defects that tend to impair the accuracy of vision, namely, chromatic and spherical aberration. Chromatic aberration is the inability to focus simultaneously on two or more of the primary colors (it is this defect in the eye that causes red letters to seem to stand out from a blue or green background, a trick sometimes used in poster work). Spherical aberration is the inability to bring to a focus the rays of light that pass through the lens near the margins at the same time as those that pass through near the center. For these reasons—and, in lesser degree, some others—the eye cannot see sharp lines, and a lens that gives sharp definition to the edges of objects produces results that are esthetically unpleasing, because foreign to our experience. The soft-focus lens—of which there are numerous makes—is so designed that it possesses the errors that are normal to the eye, and therefore—if the characteristic softness of definition is not over-done by a too enthusiastic worker—gives results having an agreeable vagueness of outline. At one time the qualities of this type of lens were over-worked, the results being so excessively diffused that, as one writer said of a print, “it was impossible to tell whether it was a ‘Portrait of a Lady’ or a ‘Water-Spout in the Gulf Stream.’” But for some years past the pendulum has been swinging the other way, and photographers in general (it must be understood that this refers only to artistic workers, not scientists) are now using the unconnected lens so as to secure as nearly as possible the quality characteristic of the normal eye with, perhaps, a slight exaggeration for the sake of suggestion, and as a stimulus to the imagination. WRITTEN FOR THE MENTOR BY PAUL L. ANDERSON ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR. VOL. 6, No. 12, SERIAL No. 160 COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC. PHOTOGRAPH BY KARL STRUSS, BY COURTESY OF HARPER’S BAZAAR. PHOTOGRAPH ILLUSTRATION FOR A STORY PHOTOGRAPHY Motion Picture Photography SIX phase of photography that has a very broad scope is motion-picture work, the mechanics of which depend on this fact: If an object is looked at for a time and is suddenly removed from before the eye, the eye continues to see it for an appreciable time after its removal. This phenomenon is called “persistence of vision.” A motion-picture camera is so arranged that a long strip of film can be drawn past the lens in a series of jerks, the shutter being opened to permit the image projected by the lens to fall on the film during the period that the latter is at rest; the film is drawn on to the next position while the shutter is closed. Naturally, an object moving before the lens will move slightly during the interval between exposures, so the film, when developed, shows a consecutive series of photographs of the object in slightly different positions. A positive print is made from this series of negatives on a similar strip of film. This is projected by means of an apparatus something like the familiar magic lantern or stereopticon, but so arranged that this film may be drawn along in jerks. Each photograph is shown for a fraction of a second, and is replaced, during the time that the shutter is closed, by one showing a slightly later phase of the motion. Because of the persistence of vision the eye blends these successive photographs into one apparently continuous motion. It will be seen that the term “moving pictures” is really a misnomer, since the pictures on the screen do not move, but remain perfectly stationary during the time that they are seen. By taking the pictures rapidly and projecting them slowly the apparent motion may be slowed down, so that a rifle bullet may take three or four minutes to travel across a screen space of as many feet. By taking them at wide intervals and projecting rapidly the motion may be speeded up, and a plant may seem to grow from a seedling to maturity in a few minutes. The ordinary taking and projecting speed is sixteen pictures per second, experiment having shown that this is the least number that the eye will blend satisfactorily. Since each picture is one inch wide by three-quarters of an inch high—in the film—it is evident that each second of time represents one foot of film. The writer has seen a rather elaborately staged photo-play that required an hour and forty minutes for projection; a simple calculation shows that this involved 6,000 feet of positive film—a little over a mile. The length of the negative film was undoubtedly more, on account of retakes, cuts, and so on. An expenditure of five or six hundred dollars for film, however, is but a small item in the cost of producing an elaborate photo-play, for the actors receive large salaries—though not so large as the press-agents would have us believe—and the cost of scenery is great. The production of photo-plays is nevertheless a profitable industry, as may be understood from the fact that the average daily attendance in this country is estimated at about twelve million. Assuming that each spectator pays only ten cents, this represents an intake of $1,200,000 daily and, as is well known, the prices of admission in many theatres range from 25 cents up to $1.00 and more. The artistic possibilities of the motion-picture play are obviously limited—it can never hope to rise to the emotional heights of the legitimate drama—but they are none the less considerable. It is to be regretted that the motion picture industry is at present so much in the hands of producers who pander to the coarser instincts of the public, through sensationalism and slap-stick farce; who are often indifferent to detail—the writer has seen a cow-puncher represented as wearing his six-shooter butt-foremost; who treat the author’s work according to their own ideas. A well-known author remarked, on seeing the screen version of one of her books: “If I hadn’t been fairly familiar with the story I wouldn’t have known what it was all about.” In general, firms seem to be more concerned with getting the public’s money than with producing really artistic results. The writer once saw a photo-play version of a fairly well-known book, in which the producer had changed an elderly, gray- haired, quiet, experienced cattleman into a cheap imitation of a Bret Harte gambler of thirty years of age, the purpose of this metamorphosis being to transform a noble and self-sacrificing affection into a piece of gaudy sensationalism. Such tactics cannot fail to displease thinking people, but there are, fortunately, producers to whom these remarks do not apply—really conscientious men of high ideals, and signs are not wanting of an improvement in this regard. The motion picture, in worthy hands, can be made an educational medium of great value, not only in the dramatic art but in many other ways. Films frequently show scenes of historical interest, life in foreign lands, industries. Scientific subjects are treated, such as the peristaltic movements of the intestines and the action of the heart, photographed by means of the X- ray; also the life cycle of micro-organisms, the microscope being used in this case—and many other activities of life. Among the most interesting of these films are those produced by the Williamson brothers, showing sea life, though mechanical difficulties have so far prevented the photographing of the most interesting phase of marine life, that of the extreme depths. WRITTEN FOR THE MENTOR BY PAUL L. ANDERSON ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR. VOL. 6, No. 12, SERIAL No. 160 COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC. MENTOR GRAVURES PHOTOGRAPH FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE SELF-PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPH BY D. O. HILL BROOKS’ COMET MENTOR GRAVURES PORTRAIT BY BROMOIL PROCESS THE LAKE, WINTER ILLUSTRATION FOR A STORY THE MENTOR ·· AUGUST 1, 1918 DEPARTMENT OF FINE ARTS THE STORY OF PHOTOGRAPHY By PAUL L. ANDERSON Artist Photographer, Author of “Pictorial Photography” A DAGUERREOTYPE Entered as second-class matter March 10, 1913, at the postoffice at New York, N. Y., under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright, 1918, by The Mentor Association, Inc. umerous investigators, Daguerre, Niépce, Fox Talbot, and others, have been credited with the discovery of photography, but the fact seems to be that these, and many more, merely contributed, each in his turn, some portion of the total that goes to make up the art as it now stands. Photography means, literally, “light-writing,” the name being derived from two Greek words, phos, light, and graphein, to write. The practice of photography depends primarily on the fact that certain chemical compounds are changed into other compounds by the action of light. Another fact is closely allied with this, namely, that a suitably constructed lens of glass or other transparent material, or a fine needle-hole used instead of a lens, will project the image of objects placed in front of it. A camera, then, consists of a light-tight box having at one end an arrangement for holding a lens or a card with a needle-hole in it, and at the other end a device for holding some light-sensitive chemical to receive the image projected by the lens. In modern practice this light-sensitive chemical is almost always bromide of silver or a mixture of the bromide with other silver compounds, these chemicals being held in an emulsion of gelatine. When the gelatine emulsion is coated in a thin film on a sheet of glass the result is known as a dry-plate, or, simply, a plate. When it is coated on a strip of celluloid wound on rollers so that successive portions may be exposed to light, it is called a roll film, and when it is coated on separate sheets of celluloid, arranged like a pad, to be exposed successively, it is called a film pack. A similar emulsion coated on paper gives bromide or gas-light paper, which, as will be seen later, is used for making prints. At one time wet collodion plates were generally used, a sheet of glass being coated with collodion and sensitized by bathing it with iodide of silver. The exposure was made before the plate dried; but these plates were inconvenient to handle and have been almost entirely superseded by the gelatine dry plate. The prepared plate, of whatever type it may be, is placed in the camera and exposed for a longer or shorter time, depending on circumstances, to the light projected by the lens, but no image is visible after exposure, (unless, indeed, the exposure has been tremendously excessive,) and the plate must be developed. There are about fifty different reducing agents on the market; most of them are derived from coal-tar, though some are made from nut-galls, lichens, and other substances. The developer consists of a solution in water of one or more of these reducing agents, with other chemicals to control the action, the exposed plate being bathed in this solution, either in the dark or in a light to which the plate is not sensitive. Wherever light has acted on the silver salts the developer causes metallic silver to be deposited in proportion to the amount of light-action, so that on holding the developed plate up to the light a dense deposit is seen in those parts representing the brightest portions of the subject, while the shadows of the original are represented by thin areas, and the half-tones by deposits of intermediate density. For this reason the developed plate is called a negative. The plate is then bathed in a solution of sodium thiosulphate (generally called