I got my scans back today. They teach me much. Here’s a scan of the print from a very average scanner, a $100+ all-in-one Brother.
Here’s the same image: a very good scanner, wet-mounted negative.
Considerable usable image was recovered. I could have adjusted the color balance to match, but if I had not made prints then I wouldn’t know the difference (so I’m glad I did). The above scan is reduced to web resolution with no sharpening at all. Here’s another:
I don’t really feel like dealing with these any more today. Clearly, we’re talking about a mediocre film format. Given the extraordinary difference in digitization (cheap scanner from prints, expensive scan on negatives), well, the results are equivocal. Sending singular negatives in the mail is nerve-wracking. The negatives went all the way to New York to be wet mounted and scanned. I lost track of how many phases this experiment was supposed to have, but I’m getting close to learning my Minolta Zoom 110 and getting back to shooting again. One strip of negatives is really bad from the scanning service. If these are what Kendall at the film lab used to make the prints, his talent impresses me and I’ll want to follow up.
If this is an accident of scanning, I’d like to figure that out as well. I left even more extra in this one (left and top banded image)
Libraries are special places for me. On Thursday night I found a DVD from Windham Hill that features a favorite pianist, George Winston. After 20 years of listening to his piano albums, it was a treat to see the intimate portrait. It was also nice to visit with the librarians whom I have not seen lately.
I went to the hardware store for a collosal consumption of time for nuts and bolts of no consequence. There is a patch of rather messy tree felling behind the store. A fruit tree stood alone basking in a few leaking rays of sun. So I scrambled up to take some pictures.
I have a very hard time finding something to dislike about my ancient point and shoot camera.
I went to see if there was a manual typewriter at the thrift store. With the amount of writing I do, I’d be sad if the power was out longer than the batteries of a laptop. They didn’t have one: it was sent away for scrap metal. Turns out that the film lab in Portland also specializes in old typewriters. I showed the ladies who sold me the 1978 SX-70 my Fuji Instax 210. You can see people’s mind’s explode when I pull that honker out of it’s case. The 210 failed utterly again with the portrait of the fruit blossoms. The depth of field is not really adjustable, nor is zoom. It would seem that very careful testing of precisely what is in focus at the 0.3-1m setting and bring a tape measure in the field is the only way to get predictable close up focus.
This building used to be home of the local newspaper. I doubt the building location has anything to with the quality of the paper.
To suffer through another night in an obnoxious room where the songs crest into the air and land somewhere in the parking lot, but not usually into ears of the attendees. . . or not. It is music and food. . .
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