However the true `instant' or Polaroid camera
(miracles in to seconds, miracles in colour 6o seconds) appeared
some years ago, and probably only the high cost has kept it
out of the clutches of the masses. Cheaper Polaroid models more
recently introduced have stimulated interest, but relatively
expensive film is still a problem.
The recent innovation of the cheap and easy to use Instamatic
camera has focused the attention of the non-technically minded
on the simplicities of near painless picture taking. What the
humble box camera was to the 1920's and 30's the Instamatic
is to the 70's Its popularity is understandable, especially
when one recalls Uncle George (everyone has an Uncle George)
and his first encounter with an adjustable camera bristling
with knobs and switches. How he proudly produced his shiny new
metal monster at the beginning of his holiday, but found to
his chagrin that, by the time he carefully eased the camera
from its case, removed the lens hood, brushed specks of dust
from the lens with the special brush required, took out the
light meter and measured the brightness after deciding on either
the reflected light method, or the incident light method and
adjusted the camera controls accordingly, his holiday was over. |
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Poor Uncle George. I suppose one of the new automatic
cameras which measures the light and automatically sets the
camera, would be Just up his street. Until he found that Cousin
Clarinda's ... er .... brat had managed to get at it and smeared
the expensive lens and controls with a large dollop of toffee
apple ........ Be that as it may, the ordinary peasants among
us doubtless regard the Instamatic as the Volkskamera of our
time. So much so that, somewhere, Fred Kodak is turning in his
grave - but only to allow himself to rub hands at the thought
of the success of the Instamatic.
Photography, like life, has its social stratas, ranging from
the trembling tyro to the haughty heights of the Tony Armstrong-Jones
class, but one can always pick out one of the rarer classes,
the dedicated amateur, since he is the one who, bespectacled
and breathless, rushes up late to Aunt Grizzelda's wedding,
carrying a great heap of photographic equipment and scattering
ultra-violet filters and used and unused flashbulbs willy-nilly
in his haste. As with all classes of society, the beginner can
hope to aspire to the higher echelons, but he must earn the
accolades of his peers.
The initiate in fact has to move gradually through the various
layers |
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of learning, and having mastered the technique
of taking photos with the lens cap on, and photos with the left
thumb carefully superimposed over the lens, he will gradually
perfect the ability to trip up as many people as possible with
his tripod. From there, he will go on to tackle the art of blinding
the greatest number of persons with one flashbulb. Then, on
to the use of special lens, such as close-up, and wide-angle
(for photographing wide boys), and finally graduating to the
delightful and rewarding art of developing and printing your
own. The joys of labouring for hours in a darkroom, tripping
over chairs, spilling developer over the new wallpaper, and
finally holding up to the light a roll of blank film, because
of that lens cap again, need no enlarging upon.
The novice can feel he has reached the pinnacle of success when
he is able to print a picture of a large family group, with
everyone absolutely pinsharp except the mother-in-law in the
centre of the group, whose face has mysteriously gone all fuzzy
and blurred. Now that must be considered the highest art in
photography.
If the reader is wondering about the standard of the writer's
photography, modesty prevents him commenting. He can do no better
than attach some of the brilliant pictures from his album .
. . . . . . . . . |
