In January this year I took a trip to one of California’s true natural gems – Yosemite National Park. The aim of this trip was to make a couple daguerreotypes, and to give a new camera I acquired in 2019 it’s first workout in over a century. I traveled there with a friend, whose airport shuttle converted into a darkroom was to be the used for creation of our work. In retrospect that was a mistake, but more about that a little later when we get to daguerreotypes.
The new camera I happened to have found with help from a friend in Colorado is a pretty special one. It is an 8x10 field wet plate collodion model, made by American Optical Company in mid 1870s. By then, Scovill already acquired the company, but kept it as a separate entity, marketing that line of products as higher quality built.
Cameras from 1870s are fairly rare, and vast majority of the ones that get unearthed are studio models. Those cameras stayed indoors, resting comfortably atop rolling stands, and so they survived in much better shape, plus I think there may have been just more of them than field models. Even with studio camera, it’s a fact that finding one with a matching and working plate holder is nearly impossible, and is always considered a medium-sized miracle. Silver nitrate is a strong corrosive, and those wooden plate holders absorbed it little by little from drips of one plate after another, and over time the wood swelled, rotted, and rendered 99% of those holders completely unusable. My suspicion, since each holder was made specifically for each camera, is that photographers would have used their setup until the holder became junk, and then stop using that camera all together, rather than sending in the back standard to have a new holder fitted. I was overjoyed to have found this camera with a nearly 100% intact plate holder.
By all signs I can find, the camera was well used, but with much care. Original silver stains from wet plate era are overly abundant, and over time in one corner of rear door it even made a beautiful reflective silver surface. Inside the holder were two reducing inserts; one original for wet collodion plates in 5x8in size, and inside that a smaller homemade one for 4x5in. The 4x5 inserts looks used, but lacks any sign of silver nitrate, so I suspect that is was made as dry plates became available, and used in second half of its original service. After a while, I can’t imagine how many thousands of images that could be, original wooden dark slide wore down so much on two end corners, that it started to have a gap, which would have let in large amounts of light, and so I recon that’s when the camera was finally retired for good. Somehow this camera ended up in possession of a Colorado hoarder, where it sat for an unknown length of time before being rescued by my friend. When it got to me, the only thing I had to do to the body was replacing the bellows, as original set was made of cloth dipped in early form of rubber, and though I am sure it would have been amazing and beautiful when new, after 150 years that rubber became hard as a rock, and would crack and chip every time I tried to stretch it. Replacing bellows and making a new dark slide out of some plastic were the only two things I had to do to get my new 150 year old baby back in shooting order. Also, because this camera takes really odd sized lens boards, it made most sense to put a universal iris flange on there, so any number of lenses can be put on that same board in seconds.
There were two full days of shooting on this trip, and I decided to dedicate the first day to shooting wet plate collodion, and second day to daguerreotypes. Yosemite is a magical place, and if one points their camera in almost any direction, they will be rewarded with a beautiful frame. Still, I wanted to make my images stand apart from others. With me I brought a variety of wet plate era lenses, but I think I ended up using mostly just three of them – 8in Dallmeyer Triple Achromat from 1864, 12in James Queen Single Achromat from mid 1870s, and 16in Voigtlander Euryscope ca. 1880. A landscape photographer from 19th century could have easily had any one of these lenses in their wagon, as all of them are superb for making views. Dallmeyer lens actually came together with the camera from same estate, and so it really could have been together with my camera back then.
Working with a new camera is usually a bit nerve wrecking, because one has to readjust a bit to get used to quirks and specificities of each apparatus, but not in this case. As soon as the camera was up on a tripod, it started working as if I’ve had it all my life. All controls are exactly where they need to be, and, after waiting for 150 years, plate holder slid into position as if drawn in by magnets. I made 9-10 plates in 2-3 locations, and here’s a selection of those 8x10s. These unique original plates are now available for purchase with prices ranging from $500 to $800 per plate.
Second day was to be a day of daguerreotype. We had another two wet plate photographers join us, which was rather distracting. Even though they used their own setups, there’s still a lot of mental energy that goes into interacting in a group of 4 rather than 2. My mind was also scrambled by a conversation with one of those two, during which I found out that this particular person is unwilling to commit one way or the other to the actual shape of our planet, believe moon landing is fake, and considers willful ignorance to me morally superior to strict adherence to facts of and scientific methods. I tried discarding that information, but to be in physical presence of such blatant and proud denial was simply depressing. The other factor that was working against me was that I was operating in a brand new to me darkroom, one that has been built by a great wet plate photographer, but built strictly in a minimalist utilitarian manner. And yeah, I had to pack all equipment and chemistry and glassware and cameras and lenses for both 8x10 wet plate and 4x5 daguerreotype processes, which is a ton of stuff let me tell you.
First parking spot was at the Tunnel View overlook, which is about the most known and visited spot, where thousands of images are made each day. No matter though, I don’t think a lot of daguerreotypes have been made from there (actually I think none ever have). Working in a new space, and having people in and out the darkroom and all around me didn’t make for an easy start. First two plates were not to my liking. By the time I got third plate exposed, the other folks were done shooting collodion, and were waiting to move on. When I cleared the plate in fixer I couldn’t believe it. A most perfect plate I have ever made was staring up at me though thin cover of hypo. I called over the others, and each of them let out an audible gasp when they saw it. I explained to folks not to be too excited, as there’s still a chance to mess it all up in gilding. It’s true, that’s the last step in the process, and it can go horribly wrong if done haphazardly, but I haven’t had it turn disastrous in a while, so there was a degree of confidence. The image was so beautiful that my hands trembled as I washed it and mixed gilding solution. The crowd all gathered inside the darkroom, mesmerized by the still unfinished plate. It is during this moment I discovered that the only thing I forgot from 100 pieces of equipment was my super clean gold chloride mixing beaker. Panic set in, and it soon became apparent that aboard the large vehicle stuffed with beakers and trays and all other things relating to photography, there was not a single clean container. I mean the whole darkroom was technically one large silver nitrate stain, but I didn’t have to lick the tables or eat off the floor, all I needed was one 20-50ml beaker that was clean. Nope, that wasn’t in the cards. I selected the most stain-free plastic beaker and washed and scrubbed it best I could. When first mixing gold and hypo, and if things are contaminated, solution can turn black instead of golden yellow. That didn’t happen, and so I was optimistic. I lit my alcohol burner and set it on table behind me. With reverent care, I placed my precious plate atop the gilding stand, and poured gold solution over it. I turned around to get my burner, and when I turned back it was as if I was hit with a meteorite. Where just 2 seconds ago there was an image with every branch of every tree in the valley defines as if real, with Yosemite falls so pure and powerful, with Half Dome so mythical and misty, seen through purple opalescence amid atmospheric perspective, now there was nothing by a milky puddle of white cloudy solution, through with I could see only the delineation of sky against horizon, and even that barely so. I was speechless, staring down at it with a lit burner in my hand, I think my mouth opened but no sound came out. People around me were asking ‘what happened’, but I just couldn’t talk, it felt like I just got shot. When I described what happened to folks who know chemistry a bit more, they said it was most likely the tiniest amount of silver nitrate on the lip of that cursed beaker contaminated the solution as I was pouring it onto the plate, and caused some sort of a reaction that I have never seen before. The image was gone though, not a trace.
I could barely talk for the rest of the day, but managed to pull myself together just enough to make one more plate at the next location. It is a very good plate, no doubt about it, and I would have been thrilled with it had I not seen the absolute perfection that just got obliterated in front of my eyes. Still, I had enough strength of mind not to gild second plate there, and kept it in water until we got to a place where I could find a single clean cup. Here’s that one and only daguerreotype of El Capitan, with it’s famous ‘heart’ showing and well lit. This plate has been sold.
In conclusion, I would like to say that it’s always best to work with your own setup, one that you know by heart, and where all objects may still be dirty, but they are dirty in a way that you know them to be. Also, I am in love with that American Optical 8x10, and I think it will become my main location wet plate camera.
All the very best,
Anton.
Note - This is a catch-up post, and I will write a few of these to cover activity from first part of 2020. In order to keep all 4 parts of Daguerrean Dream series together, I skipped posting until it was all finished, so there’s a bit of a backlog of images to post.
P.S. If you think that through millennia all the millions of scientists alive have been a part of a perfectly coordinated multi-cultural multi-generational conspiracy to make you think that the Earth is round, when in fact it’s not, then you are a very special kind of human; the
rare kind that I don’t ever want to cross paths with.
