I recall crowds of multicolored people dressed up in multicolored cloths in front of multicolored snacks, I remember a flood of Yellow Cabs claxoning their way through the lights.
We stood and stared at The Flatiron, we gazed at The Empire State, we marveled at the magnificence of The Twin Towers… If we were already impressed by the Chicagoan skyscrapers, then New York really blew our minds!
Maybe I forgot a lot about New York, but Mies’s Seagram Building!
I don’t remember that much being in New York!
I know of cheap motels before and cheap motels after, I know about driving all the way from Chicago, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, I know about heading all the way up to Montreal and Toronto - and Detroit, and Chicago again, and Houston, Washington D.C., and, and... New York again… “Bye, bye, so long! See you soon!”
I still feel the miles running on empty under my seat, I can’t forget beautiful Connecticut and astonishing Vermont, I can’t forget the immenseness of America…
We were on a diet of fast food, so don’t ask me about New York tables, we were on a diet of everything, so poor Jorge and me we had tomatoes and milk for lunch, we pretended not to see elegant people sitting on hip restaurants, we faked city slickers in search of the Midnight Cowboy…
We have seen the rich and we have seen the beggars!
Who cares if I have memories of New York?
We drove by Central Park and MoMa, we wandered up and down Broadway, we figured out how to get cheaply closed to the Statue of Liberty, we knew nothing about New York, there was nothing to know about New York, but cheap thrills!
I had never before seen a photographic shop where the films and equipment boxes travell by cable car to the customer, now I know I have seen it all, “Do you have a credit card? Yes? Allright, now we can talk!” (and I will be hopefully nice and kind to you, that’s me reading his mind…).
There were a whole lot of things that I had never seen before! There are a whole lot of things that I have never seen after!
New York, I am tired, let me take a rest. The journey ahead is a long one, we must be ready!
I mainly associate New York with the sounds of “The Heart of Saturday Night” by Tom Waits, though I suspect that we didn't meet there…
“Depot, depot, what am I doing here? Depot, depot, what am I doing here? I ain't coming, I ain't going My confusion is showing Outside the midnight wind is blowing Sixth Avenue I'm gonna paint myself blue At the depot”
All photographs made on Kodak Ektachrome film with a Horseman SW 612 Pro and Rodenstock lenses (Apo-Grandagon 35mm + Grandagon-N 75mm), except for the first view made with a Gandolfi Variant III and Schneider lens.
“(Looking For) The Heart of Saturday Night”
Well you gassed her up Behind the wheel With your arm around your sweet one In your Oldsmobile Barrelin' down the boulevard You're looking for the heart of Saturday night
And you got paid on Friday And your pockets are jinglin' And you see the lights You get all tinglin' cause you're cruisin' with a 6 And you're looking for the heart of Saturday night
Then you comb your hair Shave your face Tryin' to wipe out ev'ry trace All the other days In the week you know that this'll be the Saturday You're reachin' your peak
Stoppin' on the red You're goin' on the green 'Cause tonight'll be like nothin' You've ever seen And you're barrelin' down the boulevard Lookin' for the heart of Saturday night
Tell me is the crack of the poolballs, neon buzzin? Telephone's ringin'; it's your second cousin Is it the barmaid that's smilin' from the corner of her eye? Magic of the melancholy tear in your eye.
Makes it kind of quiver down in the core 'Cause you're dreamin' of them Saturdays that came before And now you're stumblin' You're stumblin' onto the heart of Saturday night
Well you gassed her up And you're behind the wheel With your arm around your sweet one In your Oldsmobile Barrellin' down the boulevard, You're lookin' for the heart of Saturday night
Is the crack of the poolballs, neon buzzin? Telephone's ringin'; it's your second cousin And the barmaid is smilin' from the corner of her eye Magic of the melancholy tear in your eye.
Makes it kind of special down in the core And you're dreamin' of them Saturdays that came before It's found you stumblin' Stumblin' onto the heart of Saturday night And you're stumblin' Stumblin onto the heart of Saturday night
From the record “The Heart of Saturday Night” – Tom Waits (1974)
"I told you about strawberry fields You know the place where nothing is real Well here's another place you can go Where everything flows.
Looking through the bent backed tulips To see how the other half lives Looking through a glass onion."
Glass Onion, The Beatles (The White Album, 1968)
Horseman SW612 Pro + Rodenstock Apo-Grandagon 35mm f 4.5
Yes, I told you about my "Cory" and some places we can go.
Now I will tell you about my "Horsy"...
The Apo-Grandagon 35mm without Center Filter, maximal fall
The last two posts where entirely photographed with another relatively scarce camera, the Horseman SW612 Pro.
SW must stand for super-wide, 612 stands obviously for the biggest format this camera is able to deliver, and the Pro part of the name makes the distinction between this model with shift capabilities, and the simpler model without.
I must say that it is a kind of denomination that somehow I dislike... To call something Pro doesn't make it Pro...
Nevertheless, I can assure you that this camera genuinely deserves the qualification of professional!
I also must add, that I can't understand why Horseman keeps both versions of practically the same camera on their catalogue. After the introduction of this refined, better version, the model without shift capability became rather uninteresting. That is, at least, my opinion.
The Apo-Grandagon 35mm you see above is really a super, super-wide lens! Too wide for most situations, I could say...
It consists of 8 elements in 4 groups, and is incredibly distortionless for such a lens.
The image circle is 125mm, what means that you can use the entire 6x12 format with it, if you don't use movements.
Nearest focusing distance is 0,3m.
I absolutely recommend the use of a Center Filter with this lens!
The Apo-Grandagon 35mm with Center Filter, maximal rise
The Apo-Grandagon 35mm with Center Filter, maximal fall
Maximal rise and fall with the Apo-Grandagon 35mm is only possible if you use the 6x9 or 6x7 magazines, that are also available for this camera. I wouldn't find the 6x7 magazine (10 frames each roll) very attractive, but I own and use a 6x9 magazine (8 frames each roll).
Obviously, for the greatest part I use the 6x12 magazine (6 frames each roll of 120 film). This format really makes the best out of this camera!
Notice, please, that I have painted the extremity of the dark slide red. It comes in black plastic and is sometimes very hard to see, mainly when you are photographing in dark places or interiors. In former times, the Horseman magazines had such pieces made of red enameled metal.
They seem to want to save on production costs...
These are the small annoyances that make our lives a little harder in the field: if you forget to pull the dark slide before you make your exposures, you will not have any exposures at all! Just as simple as that...
Please Horseman, make it a shining fluorescent color that we can't overlook!
(I tend to think that equipment manufacturers must often be shy to try their gear in real-life situations. They usually seem to overlook small but important details).
That little red ribbon I've added to the dark slide serves the same purpose of remembering me to pull it.
I also use it to hang the dark slide from my Gitzo tripod. Doing so, I don't need to search for it around the whole place...
(Getting older doesn't help my distraction...)
I like to concentrate on my photographs, not on the action of making them.
Although on these photographs I prefer to show the Grandagon-N 75mm without a Center Filter, I also generally use one with it.
I know that there are photographers who don't bother to do so, excusing themselves with light-loss, but I get really disturbed by looking at a color photograph of a white wall, and seeing it turning dirty white or gray in the corners of the image.
I guess that I am too much of a perfectionist...
I don't really understand why, but Horseman stopped offering this lens for the SW612. My guess is that it must be because you can't use the full shift movements with it. There is some vignetting caused by the lens mount. Maybe it is also because of the maximal aperture of 6.8.
In my opinion, it is a very fine lens giving a very pleasing field of view (identical to 24mm on 35mm film): wide enough for most subjects without excess.
The maximal aperture of 6.8 doesn't bother me: I mostly use it at f 22 anyway...
Notice that you can see a different mask in the optical finder, to adapt to the field of view of the lens.
The finder is very clear, but doesn't follow the field of view of the lens when you apply movements.
If you remember my former post about a similar camera I use (Photo Gear 3), the finder of the Corfield WA67 does...
I usually compose using the ground glass, but sometimes it is handy to have the finder though. Photographing in a crowded place for instance, it allows me to control if people are inside the image, and what position they may have within the composition.
Dark places is another situation that usually sees me mounting this "eye" on top of the camera.
Planning my trip across the USA and Canada, to photograph the works of Mies van der Rohe, I quickly realized that it would be very hard to carry a lot of equipment over there.
I started thinking that I should better leave my Sinar, and all the lenses I use with it, at home. The multitude of different buildings I had to photograph, dictated that bringing only my Corfield WA67 would be an impossibility. Non-shift medium format equipment, like the Hasselblad, wouldn't be an option either.
So I started thinking about alternatives.
To substitute the Sinar, I decided to get a Gandolfi Variant in 4x5 inches (my Gandolfi Precision 8x10" was out of question for obvious reasons...). I got the model with more features, the so called Level III, in MDF.
Not the lightest camera, but with lots of movements and very sturdy. Enough bellows draw, to allow me to use my Rodenstock Apo-Ronar 480mm. Enough wide-angle capability to use my Schneider Super-Angulon 58mm. Capable of accepting my Horseman 6x12 roll film back and my Linhof Rapid Rollex 6x7.
What could I wish more?
Yes, you guess it right: the Horseman SW612 Pro!
Nice format for double-pages spreads in square books, interchangeable high-quality lenses, shift capability, very good engineering and build quality.
Add a couple of lenses for each camera, plus a Gossen Variosix F and a Minolta Spotmeter, plus focusing clothes and lupes, loads of film and some other paraphernalia and you get the picture of what we had to carry around... Oh, don't forget the Gitzo tripod and the Manfrotto 410 geared head!
Happilly, in those times I was stronger than today, and I had the good helping-hand of my older sun Jorge, who assisted me on the trip. He shared duties with me on carrying, driving, eating fast food, sleeping in cheap motels, looking for the places to photograph and, most of all, having lots of patience for solving shooting permissions and assorted problems. I can imagine that without his help, I would certainly be in serious trouble.
While staying at the Illinois Institut of Technology, when it was raining and we could not work, we used to jump in the car and drive for endless hours across the Southside of Chicago. Killing time, we found out that we were the only white people we could see around. White people in America don't seem to cross the afro-american territory, they drive around, speeding down the highway without looking. White people don't seem to know how blacks live in America. Black people seem to know how whites live: they clean their homes, they drive their cabs, they fight their wars.
At night we used to sit around Seven-Eleven, inside the campus in Commons building, again killing time and watching. It seemed to be the only place in all Chicago where you could see a certain coexistance between various types of people. The cops and the ambulance drivers, the southsiders and the students, the beggars and the rich, they all came for a cup of coffee, for something to eat.
Then, we would go back to our room in the student's residence, having to go through a kind of check point where we had to show our ID to a student. Most of them didn't even say hello or wish good night, the only exception beeing a very nice and young black lady. We were always happy to meet her. One night she didn't notice that we were coming and she just kept dancing. We just waited awhile before knocking, delighted with the beauty and elegance of her dance. Needless to say that she got a little ashamed when she understood that we had been watching her for a while. Since then I called her "Night Dancer" and she always gave back a beautiful smile. That lady was a nice human beeing...
On our flight back home, via London, we had the chance of meeting some very nice people again: the crew of British Airways proved to be of exceptional kindness. We got along with each other so well, that when we were getting ready to leave the plane, some members of the crew came to us and presented us with two bottles of Champagne! Amazed, I just could say that it had been a pleasure to fly with them. They replied that if they always had such nice passengers, their job would be wonderfull... Of course, we were flying economic, make no mistake.
These are the little stories that touch our souls, these are the true reasons why I love life.
Decidi então relatar três horas alucinantes, mais exactamente três horas e um quarto. Aqui fica então a história de como fotografei um dos grandes ícones da arquitectura do séc. XX:
Ao fim de mais de quinze dias de estadia em Chicago, seguida de uma viagem a Nova Iorque e Canadá para fotografar outras obras do Mies, foi-me finalmente concedida autorização para fotografar a dita maravilha (é mesmo uma maravilha, não estou a ser irónico!). Lá fiquei todo eufórico, lá voltei `a cidade dos Blues, sem adivinhar que o pior estava para vir… Passo a explicar: antes de poder pôr um pé que fosse do meu tripé no soalho da referida maravilha, tinha que possuir um seguro no valor de ummilhão (!) de dólares. Não fosse o diabo tece-las e eu fazer algum risquito no dito soalho, ou, pior, dar-me algum curto-circuito cerebral e passar-me dos carretos, quem sabe pegar fogo aquilo tudo, num gesto de raiva vingativa pelo tempo de espera e as inúmeras burocracias vencidas. Bem nada a fazer, há que ter o dito seguro, há que o pagar! “Americanices”, pensarão alguns de vós e pensei eu então. Mas não só o referido seguro custava um grandessíssimo balúrdio (desculpem o termo tão vernáculo, mas garanto-vos que na altura vieram-me palavras bem piores `a mente), como ninguém mo queria fazer! É que, embora com estadia legal, eu não tinha residência fixa nos EUA! Cheguei a andar por Chicago a correr as agências de seguros de porta em porta. Tanto fazia ir `as de luxo nos arranha-céus, como `as espeluncas de ruas menos recomendáveis. Que tivesse paciência, era uma pena, não havia nada a fazer… Estes os simpáticos, que outros me empurravam logo para o olho da rua. Valeu-me a calma do meu filho Jorge que me acompanhava e assistia, que lá me segurava os ânimos e me dava apoio moral. Já não sei bem como, mas acabou por aparecer uma alma caridosa, uma senhora muito simpática e com voz humana cujo nome já nem recordo (nunca a cheguei a ver, só falámos por telefone), que me safou da enrascada. Como? Muito simples: deu a morada de um fotógrafo de Chicago (que também nunca cheguei a conhecer) e lá me arranjou um seguro.
Lá amanheceu então o grande dia e lá seguimos para Plano, que é uma territa a cerca de oitenta quilómetros de Chicago. Uma daquelas que a gente vê nos filmes, uma main street e pouco mais. Pelo menos é essa a memória com que fiquei na altura. Como fizemos 16.000 km de carro nessa viagem pelos EUA e Canadá, posso já baralhar as coisas um pouco... (Por curiosidade: no total, Europa e América, fiz 27.000 km para fotografar as obras do Mies. Claro que não estou a incluir os que fiz de avião, apenas os de carro!). Mas Plano não é ainda Fox River, e não é fácil dar com a Farnsworth House. Bem protegida dos olhares curiosos, não se vê sequer da estrada.
Chegámos cedo. Eu, ingenuamente, a pensar que ia ter um dia de trabalho calmo e ponderado, a reflectir sobre as lindas imagens que ia produzir para deleite de futuros leitores, a pensar cá para os meus botões que o tema e a situação requeriam concentração redobrada. Afinal se temos o privilégio de fotografar tal obra-prima, temos também a responsabilidade e o dever de o fazer bem feito! Há que pensar bem antes de fazer o click! Ilusões…
Novas negociações: há que pagar um x para começar a fotografar. Outro balurdiozinho, outra “americanice” (uns meses antes, para estar a fotografar calmamente a Tugendhat Haus em Brno, durante várias horas, custou-me mais ou menos o que me pediam aqui por cada hora…). Mal sonhava eu que dos males, esse era o menor: é que me caiu literalmente a queixada quando fui informado que tinha no máximo três horas para concluir o trabalho. “Três horas? Mas ainda é de manhã cedo!...”. Fui então informado que a proprietária se encontrava na casa a passar férias com as crianças, que iam para a piscina, mas depois exigia o seu sossego e privacidade. Então e as três semanas de burocracias, as negociações, os telefonemas, os faxes, o seguro, os custos, as estadias, os nervos? “Eu pago mais horas!”.
” Não, e não, e não! Nada a fazer!”. E eu a olhar para os postais que tinham á venda por uns cêntimos a pensar cá para mim que cada hora que eu não podia fotografar equivalia a muitos, mas muitos, postais vendidos… Vá a gente percebe-los...
Então e as fotografias espectaculares que eu tinha para fazer? “Três horas? Eu nem sequer conheço o sítio. É a primeira vez que aqui venho!...”.
Reuniãode urgência com o meu filho: “como nos desenrascamos desta? Não vamos sair daqui de mãos a abanar... Toca a reduzir o equipamento ao mínimo indispensável, o resto fica no carro. Esquece a mala da 9x12 e respectivas objectivas, esquece os filtros e o colormeter, o spotmeter também, esquece isto, deixa aquilo...” (Dos equipamentos de iluminação já tínhamos desistido em casa…). Ficámos reduzidos a uma Horseman 6x12 com uma única objectiva 75mm (equivalente a uma 24mm em pequeno formato; neste tipo de equipamentos não há objectivas zoom, as distâncias focais são fixas!), um fotómetro de luz incidente, um molho de rolos 120, o despolido para enquadrar com exactidão e a necessária lupa e pano preto (pressa sim, mas mais valem poucas imagens boas do que muitas que não prestam!), o cabo disparador e o tripé. E muita “fé em Deus, seja o que ele quiser”.
Para quem não sabe bem do que falo, permitam-me um resumido esclarecimento: falo de uma câmara fotográfica analógica que produz seis (!) fotogramas por rolo, sem qualquer tipo de automatismo, sem motor, sem fotómetro incorporado sequer! Obviamente instalada num tripé e de focagem manual, em que um diafragma aceitável de trabalho nunca é inferior a 16, melhor é mesmo 22! Nesta câmara eu instalo um vidro despolido (perdoem-me os entendidos se o termo não está correcto: eu aprendi a fotografar na Alemanha e chamo-lhe Mattscheibe…) no plano do filme, para controlar com exactidão a imagem no seu enquadramento, nitidez, quantidade de descentramento da objectiva necessário para manter a perspectiva correcta, etc. Isto depois de ter nivelado com todo o cuidado e precisão a máquina (sim, eu gosto de lhe chamar assim! E se querem saber mais, até lhes dou nomes próprios: esta em questão é a Horsy, outra é a Cory, outra a Hassy, etc. Cada maluco com a sua…). Como não há um sistema de prisma e espelho, é forçoso, pelas leis da óptica, que essa imagem seja vista de pés para o ar! Diafragmando para controlar a profundidade de campo, a imagem torna-se extremamente escura, especialmente em interiores. Mesmo em exteriores é quase impossível evitar o uso do tal paninho preto, ridículo: é que sem ele a imagem quase não se vê, perde contraste. Quando está tudo pronto, há que desmontar o referido vidrinho, fechar e armar o obturador, escolher a velocidade de obturação e o diafragma, instalar o carregador com filme, tirar o dark slide (a chapinha de metal que não deixa o rolo apanhar luz, não me levem a mal, mas não sei o termo português, lá onde aprendi diz-se schieber), e então sim, pegar no disparador e fazer o click. Se tudo tiver sido feito como deve ser, sem erros nem distracções, a imagem deverá estar óptima. Pelo menos se a luz for bonita… Mas não se assustem: é mais complicado de descrever do que fazer, especialmente quando já se tem muitos milhares de quilómetros e fotografias de rodagem…
Mas voltemos a Fox River. Lá começámos a fotografar para darmos com outros problemas: não estávamos autorizados a tocar em nada, não podíamos mudar o lugar das coisas. O encarregado que nos acompanhava, e que não nos largou um minuto, limitou-se a retirar algumas fotografias de natureza privada de cima de uma ou outra mesa (recordo-me de ver a princesa Diana numa delas, com o seu lindo sorriso). O que vale é que estava tudo bem arrumadinho, não é como em minha casa… E felicidade das felicidades, não tínhamos que limpar nada! (Mas essa das limpezas fica para outra vez…). O resto é simples: fui dando a volta á casa, escolhendo o que me pareceram os melhores ângulos e olhando apreensivamente para o relógio, a ver os minutos voarem, tentando desesperadamente não fazer nenhuma burricada (sim, também as faço!). Ah bem, tão simples também não foi. Já me esquecia do ar condicionado! Se ele trabalhava, as cortinas não paravam de mexer, o que não dava jeito nenhum tomando em conta as exposições longas de que necessitava. Se era desligado, ficavam as vidraças cheias de condensação. Que escolha o diabo! Vá lá que o encarregado se esforçou e lá ia ligando e desligando, enquanto os minutos teimavam em correr cada vez mais rápido (Resta-me o consolo de pensar que tal problema não devia ter a Dra. Edith Farnsworth sofrido: creio que nos tempos dela a casa ainda não tinha ar condicionado instalado. Coitada, deve ter cozido com aquele ar quente e húmido do rio…).
Quando chegámos ao fim das três horas estava relativamente satisfeito. Se tudo tivesse corrido bem (não se esqueçam que falamos de fotografia analógica, em diapositivo…), teria certamente imagens suficientes para descrever bem o interior da casa. Há sempre uma ou outra que se podia ter feito também, há sempre uma ou outra em que se optou mal, em vez de assim devia ter sido assado. Bolas, tem que se saber ser selectivo! “Está feito! Passemos aos exteriores!”. Ah, ingenuidade portuguesa, quanto nos custas? …
“Exteriores?”, perguntou o encarregado atónito. “Você agora vai mas é embora. Acabaram as três horas!”.
E eu, apesar do calor sufocante, a sentir o sangue gelar: “Mas isso não era só para os interiores, por causa da senhora???”.
Bem, não adianta descrever-vos a sensação de terror que nos subiu pela espinha acima, nem uma única imagem do exterior depois de tanta chatice? Argumento para aqui, argumento para ali, ele então, magnânimo e irrefutável, sentencia: “Ok, dou-lhe mais um quarto de hora para fazer os exteriores!!!”.
E assim foi! E o que há, está `a vista: são estas as doze fotografias que fiz da Farnsworth House em três horas e um quarto… (Há na realidade mais uma da cozinha, com a cortina fechada, que não me agrada tanto. Como tal, não conta…). Outras melhores existirão certamente, mas sei que não tenho de me envergonhar destas. Foram as melhores que consegui nas circunstâncias proporcionadas.
E como não deve haver história sem moral, aqui vos deixo esta pergunta para reflectirem: quanto na vossa opinião valem, ou deveriam valer, estas fotografias?
Arneiro dos Marinheiros, Agosto de 2007
English speaking people, who don't understand portuguese, please excuse me, but this time the text is in my mother language...
At first I thought about translating it, but I quickly realized that it would be a rather difficult task for me.
So I opted to show the original text, written originaly for a portuguese architectural magazine. It describes, informally, the difficulties I went through until I was allowed to photograph the Farnsworth House. And the difficulties I experienced by photographing it too.
"Three hours and a quarter!" is the title I have chosen for this text.
I will briefly explain: three hours was the time that I was allowed to photograph this icon of Modern Architecture.
At first I thought that limit would only refer for interior photography. It was already very short, but using only one camera and one lens, keeping things simple and "relaxed", I knew that I could manage it (and I did!).
So, when the three hours were over, I just asked if I could go outside to make the exterior shots, just to hear that I had to leave, as the three hours were meant to be the total time!
I had made an insurance in the value of one million dollars, stayed about three weeks in Chicago taking care of permissions, insurance and so on, and I was paying a lot of money for each hour I was shooting!!!
And I was photographing for a book with international distribution...
No, and no, they wouldn't allow me more time!
Then, after some discussion and argumenting, I was finally given a quarter ofan hourextrafor the exterior shots! Yes, you read right: fifteen minutes!
Somehow I managed to make the three images you see above and I had to leave.
While leaving, I was thinking about the postcards they were selling at the office for 60 cents...
All the photographs on this post were made using a Horseman SW 612 Pro, equiped with a Rodenstock Grandagon 75mm, on Ektachrome film. Lightmeter from Gossen. Tripod from Gitzo.
Of all the projects by Álvaro Siza that I had the chance to photograph, the Boa Nova Tea House quickly gained a special corner deep inside my emotions.
Maybe it is it's rather small scale, maybe it is the nearness to the light house and the ever presence of the ocean, maybe it is this constant interplay between the rocks and the horizon, I don't exactly know, but the whole site possesses something kind of magical to me.
When approaching the Tea Room, you never see it or understand it totally, the architectonic volumes and shapes melt with the rocks and the blue color of water and sky, forming a kind of sculpture.
You are tempted to forget that you are walking towards a space that was built for a very clear purpose: to be a tea house and restaurant.
I remember beeing a small kid and spending holidays every now and then with my grandparents in Porto.
On occasion, if she was feeling courageous, my grandmother would sit at the steering wheel of "Boguinhas" (their Fiat 600), and would drive us to the beach in Matosinhos or Leça da Palmeira. Really not very often, as she was a terrible driver...
Some other days, my grandfather would take me on his Vespa and we could go for a ride along the coast, maybe stopping in Leixões looking at the harbor cranes loading cargo on the ships.
You may well understand that this whole region evokes some grateful memories for me, relics of a long-gone era...
I ask myself if in a couple of years I can recognize the place...
The first photograph on this post, was shot in 13x18 (5x7 inches) with my Gandolfi Precision 8x10, using a reducing back. I am not sure about the lens I used, but I think that it must have been the Apo-Sironar W f/5.6 210mm, from Rodenstock.
All other photographs were done with a Horseman SW612 Pro, also with Rodenstock lenses. Obviously, I used a 6x12 roll film back on these ones...
Nice view over The Loop from Mr. Norsik's apartment...
... and the other way around
Now, I am getting kind of lazy...
I wrote a lot on my last post on Federal Center, so I am taking the chance of just posting one more work on Mies in Chicago, without needing a lot of words.
I just would like to mention Mr. Norsik. He was a very nice and polite gentleman who invited us to his apartment, for to show us the nice view you can see from there. I was just under my dark cloth focusing and composing a shot of the buildings (see last image), when he showed up and introduced himself. A really very nice and friendly person!
I never managed to send him a book, as I promised, because in the meantime I had lost his adress.
So, Mr. Norsik, if you happen to come across this lines, just please send me a mail...
It is not always easy, to fit such a big building inside such a small tiny bit of film...
I had been wise enough to buy a Apo-Grandagon 35mm before the trip.
In 1999, I spent six weeks in the USA and Canada, photographing the works of architect Mies van der Rohe. A good deal of that time was spent in Chicago, where Mies was a very influential personality. My older son, Jorge, helped me out as my assistant, as Luis, my second son, had done the year before in Europe. Altogether I drove 27.000 km across Europe and North America (I am too lazy to find out how many miles that makes, but you can be sure that it is a LOT) to accomplish that assignment. Of course, I am also not counting the flights from Europe to America and back. Just talking about road-mileage... As we had a lot of gear, and also for the pleasure of better seeing the country, we opted to rent a car to travel from Chicago to New York, where we did Seagram Bulding, then all the way up to Canada to make some buildings in Montreal and Toronto. From Canada we drove back to Chicago to photograph the emblematic Farnsworth House, in Plano, Illinois, but I will talk about that in another day...
And also about Detroit, Washington D.C., Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Des Moines, Newark, Elmhurst, etc., etc. We had to drive to all those places searching for some Mies's buildings.
When all that was done, we enjoyed a cross-country ride down to Houston, Texas, to photograph the Brown Wing in the Museum of Fine Arts. From Houston we still drove back to New York (not missing the chance to visit New Orleans), where we finnally got our plane back home, via London.
Lots of cheap motels and lots of hamburgers and fast-food... Yes, we got a little short on money!
At the end we were rather exhausted, but I had finally fullfilled the dream of travelling through such, for me, mythical places as Chicago, Mississippi and Louisiana. Since I was a kid that I am a big lover of The Blues, and started buying blues records when I was thirteen or fourteen. Believe me, it was really not that easy to find blues records in those times in Portugal. We were still living in a dictatorship under Salazar's regime and the country was very poor (not only) culturaly speaking. I can say that we were almost hermeticaly separated from the rest of the world.
"Proudly alone", as they used to say. Well, I guess that in a certain way we still are...
Chicago´s Federal Center+ The Loop Post Office+"The Flamingo" by Alexander Calder
The other side of the Post Office
Beatiful "Flamingo", raising 53-foot (16m) above the ground
We carried a Horseman SW612 Professional with Rodenstock optics, and a Gandolfi Variant 4x5 inches with Schneider lenses. I use a black Variant made of MDF, and I find it to be a very ruged and versatil instrument. It has lots of movements, really competing with a monorail camera in this aspect. On the downside, it really is so heavy as a monorail camera...
To keep our outfit "small", we used only 120 film in the 6x12 Horseman roll film magazines , both on the SW612 and the Variant (I also used a 6x9 magazine on the SW612, what makes a nice combination with the Apo-Grandagon 35mm, and for some details I also had a 6x7 Linhof roll film holder on the Gandolfi). As far as I remember, I didn't use any sheet film in this trip. I remember using Ektachrome 100 VS on a lot of images. It was a new emulsion by than, but I must say that I am not a big fan of "vivid" emulsions. I think that sometimes they have too much contrast. As I often say, newer is not necessarily better! I mean, in my opinion.
The year before, in Europe, I even took my Gandolfi 8x10 inches along, together with a Corfield WA67, mainly for interior photography. You can see some of that photographs on my first post on Mies van der Rohe about the Neue National Galerie in Berlin, Germany.
Born 1955 in Kuito (Silva Porto), Angola.
Photographer / Publisher.
Started my professional photographer career at the History of Art Institut (Kunsthistorishes Institut ) of the University of Heidelberg, Germany. Returned to Portugal in 1990 and, while doing studio and advertising work, specialized in Architectural Photography. I had my work published in numerous specialized books and magazines, both in Portugal and abroad. Álvaro Siza and Mies van der Rohe are only some of the names who have their work extensively documented. I own White & Blue, which I co-founded in November 2000.
(I closed down White & Blue in January 2013)
All photographs and text copyright by Rui Morais de Sousa. Should you wish to use my images, please contact me. If I agree, I will give you my written permission.
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