I used to feel so disappointed when I looked at my first monochrome print. Since I had only shot color films, I had no concept of viewing things in terms of tonality. I took something because I thought it was beautiful. I can't tell what it was because there was little luminance difference. It's only after I started using monochrome films that I think about light. Before then, I'd only been framing by lines and colors, so monochrome films gave me an opportunity to deepen my understanding of photography.
I would have never thought about "light" and "tonality" unless I do photography. Before I began photography, how did I feel about them? I don't remember. Maybe, when I look at a photo, I could only sense it was warm, hot, or bright.
In this way, photography made me became so sensitive to light. It's interesting that I can tell the kind of light of photos even if they are taken by someone else. It's like, "this is a light of winter" and I'm like an insect that reacts to light. I digress, but I'm a lazy person. On a cold winter day, I want to sleep with my cat in the kotatsu. But, since I started photography, I've been wondering outside. How healthy is that.
One of our editorial crew has worked for a long time in commercial photography. He is like a magician of light and describes light using all possible expressions available in a language system. If he starts talking about the best lighting conditions including place, angle, and time, he will spend a whole night. But, commercial photography is very logical, and success is the result of planning and experience.
There's one thing I don't understand. Such a professional who has trained logically often uses the expression, "happy feeling light." Happiness can be defined differently by individuals, so I don' understand why a creator uses the abstract words, but I also think this way. A photographer who had learned and controlled light logically once encountered an overflowing light that is inexplicable by logic. Light shines on everything and there's nothing greater than that. Maybe, this is why he uses the expression and this is what light is about.
What I like about shooting the main street in the early morning is that it becomes gray and loses solidity as soon as it loses light. And, when light reaches on the street, people flood in and the silhouette starts to appear.
Blinking light symbolizes life itself.
Monochrome photography is about tonality.
When mid tone fills the frame, it's a chance to freeze time.
Cats are sunflowers. Or, they are sundials.
If you chase cats in winter, you can naturally win over light.
Light also highlights social conditions... may be I overstated. JR Akahane station is my favorite place because it gets good light.
I always think that there's no way to control light. Even though I thought I did, I'm the one who is already lighted. Shooting monochrome films makes me think that it's harder to look things as they are.
I used a 35mm again and this time I chose the Elmar 3.5cm. It's tiny like a body cap and it's great for travelling. The condition of my copy is very bad* corners are cloudy and it has a full of wiping scratches on the front element. Resolution is great in the center, but corners are flowing and bokeh is spinning. It's never the lens that I can praise, but I like the taste that is hard to describe in words. The film is Fuji's ACROS. These days I gave up home developing and submitted the films to Yodobashi Camera's lab unconditionally. I'd been using the C41 ILFORD films so I hadn't used this real monochrome for quite a while. The ACROS has rich tonality and high contrast, yet it depicts minutely.(K)
