Big is Beautiful

Back in the olden days, when policemen on the beat were less fresh-faced and the months didn’t whiz by at the speed of light, there were two types of camera. There were small cameras and there were big cameras. The small cameras were used once or twice a year, at Christmas or on Cheesefare Sunday. The big cameras were used by very serious men with beards, in photographic studios or on expeditions to some previously undiscovered part of the world (undiscovered to the serious men with beards and big cameras that is, obviously the people who actually lived there had discovered the place some time previously). The big cameras were big. So big in fact that it would have been conceivable to take the back off them and use the interiors as temporary accommodation. Useful, when you’re miles away from civilisation and the natives won’t give you a bed for the night because you keep planting flags in their vegetable patch.

Time marches on, policemen are a whole lot younger than they used to be and I can’t believe it’s almost time to buy another calendar. Now everybody has a camera, built into a mobile phone or worn round the wrist like hi-tech jewellery. And these cameras are small. Smaller than even the most optimistic science-fiction fan would have thought possible a few short years ago. Now it’s not just Christmas and Cheesefare Sunday when embarrassing social moments can be captured for posterity, but each and every day of a person’s natural life. Isn’t science wonderful?

So, there’s obviously no room these days for serious men with beards and their big cameras, right? Well, not quite. Big cameras are still used today, by a small, but significant group of photographers. And not all of these photographers are a) men, b) bearded and c) serious. I use a big camera, and well I’m a man, and yes, okay I’ve got a beard but I’m not serious. At least I don’t think I am, though I won’t rule out the possibility just yet.

The big camera I use is an Ebony SW45. Have you ever seen a photograph of a Victorian gentleman proudly standing next to a camera that looks like a cross between a deck chair and an accordion? That’s essentially what my Ebony is, a camera with roots stretching back to the dawn of photography. However, it is also a thoroughly modern camera, despite being made of wood and leather. The metal bits that hold everything together are titanium (used by NASA on important bits of the Space Shuttle) and it was designed and constructed in Japan, just like every other camera these days. I create (colour!) images on single sheets of film that measure five inches by four inches and the results, if you were to see a processed slide on a light box, would knock your socks off. This is a big piece of film on which to capture a photograph and the punchy colours and visible detail are incredible. There is real depth to the images that is hard to describe and has to be experienced first hand. As much as I like the convenience of digital, there is nothing to beat the sheer visceral satisfaction of viewing a well-exposed 5x4 inch slide.

This, ultimately, is why big cameras are still in use today. They are bulky, difficult to set up and lacking in technological sophistication. The images however, are ‘information rich’; in a way that digital still cannot match unless you were to throw tens of thousands of pounds, dollars or yen at the problem. For once old fashioned is still relevant, which is a comforting thought in today’s fast paced world. Another comforting thought is that I’m still younger than most Chief Constables, so I’ll only start to worry when they start looking younger.

A few months ago I wrote about my favourite pieces of non-photographic equipment and I received some interesting correspondence about the article. One enlightening piece of advice I received about safety in the countryside is not to rely on coffee as a cure for hypothermia. The condition is serious and if it occurs, the correct response is to call the emergency services using 999. Of course it should go without saying that just feeling a little bit cold won’t get you a ride in a helicopter or much sympathy with any mountain rescue volunteers who come to find you. The sensible thing to do is to prepare for inclement conditions, regardless of what the weather forecaster promises, and to take a mobile phone with you on the expedition (or at the very least let a level-headed non-participant know your planned route).