Silverbased

Projects and ponderings for film photographers

Archive for March, 2008


101: What Do I Need to Develop Film?

Lately I encounter more and more folks who got into photography via digital cameras, but who’ve become intrigued about shooting film too. Given the laughably inexpensive prices of fine film cameras these days, that makes a lot of sense.

But recent photography magazines and books offer little help at giving these “switchers” an introduction to film basics—one of the reasons I began this blog. So today’s column is a welcome to all those total film beginners out there. Hi!

You’ve probably discovered that getting film developed today can become a headache —whether due to a shortage of local labs, unreliable service, or high prices. That’s particularly true for folks using 120 film (for example, in a Holga or Diana+). So you may have heard the advice, “just develop it yourself!”

But what’s involved in doing that—and is it expensive? This post will talk about the supplies you need for developing film at home. To do your own negatives, all you need is this:

B&W Film Developing Kit

Developing tank, measuring graduate, funnel, thermometer, stirrer. Developer, stopbath, fixer, and Photo-Flo

The good news:

You do not need a darkroom to develop negatives. You only need darkness briefly, to load the film onto the reel of the developing tank. The tank is lightproof, so after loading it you can do the all the other steps in a day-lit kitchen or bathroom. (Darkrooms are for making prints.)

The cost of the chemicals is much cheaper than commercial developing. You don’t need to drive anywhere, and you can control the process to your own tastes. The developing steps are not any harder than following a cooking recipe.

There is a very plentiful supply of used developing gear today, since so many photographers have gone entirely digital. If you start asking around, you might find that an acquaintance or family member has old equipment they’d be happy to give away (don’t trust any old already-mixed solutions, though). Even buying everything new should not cost you more than $50.

And the bad news?

We are talking about developing traditional black & white film here, not color. It is possible for amateurs to develop color at home, but the chemistry is not so beginner-friendly. But black & white has a certain timeless beauty, so you may discover new creative directions if you’ve never tried that before.

Okay, once you have the negatives—what do you do with them? Well today it’s quite common to scan them, then work with the computer file just as you would with any digital-camera shot. For US readers, a great source of inexpensive film scanners is the refurbished “PHOTO” models from Epson’s online store. Schools & universities may have scanners available for their students—or traditional darkrooms too, if you choose to learn that craft.

Photo chemicals are no more toxic than household cleaners; but you’ll want to take care to avoid inhaling any dust if you mix your solutions from powders. And the chemicals can sometimes smell funny.

I’m going to talk about which supplies you’ll need—not give full step-by-step instructions how to develop film. But there are many other descriptions of the steps on the web. (For example here; or with more photos here, or in this 200kB PDF from Ilford.)

As seen above, you’re going to need a few quart/liter bottles, some kind of graduated measuring vessel, and it’s helpful to have a funnel. These don’t need to be “official” photography supplies. But if you improvise using things found around the kitchen, be sure to label them clearly as for photo-chemical use only.

The first piece of dedicated equipment you’ll need is a developing tank. There are several types, each with its own minor advantages and disadvantages. But all will work fine.

Paterson Developing Tank
The tank shown here is an older style Paterson System 4. These were extremely popular with 1970s/1980s amateurs, inspiring several lookalike imitators. You will still find many of these floating around.

The current Paterson style is similar, but with a redesigned wide-mouth top (if you google for more information, note that the company name has only one “t.”) The reel flanges twist apart to adjust to different film widths—the 35mm spacing is shown above.

Beginners often find the most daunting part of developing film is getting the strip loaded onto the reel (remember this must be done blind, or light would fog the film).

Paterson reels have little ball-bearing widgets which help push the film onto the flanges, using a back-and-forth twisting motion. My experience is that beginners find this style easiest to learn; the minuses of the Paterson-style tank are minor in comparison. (One tip is that the reels must be absolutely dry before loading.)

Developers

First-timers often ask for advice in online forums about which developer to buy—then get overwhelmed by all the passionately conflicting suggestions. I think the most important thing say is, don’t worry about it! The difference in image properties between developers is not large; and if you end up scanning your negatives anyway, that stage has a much greater effect on the tonality of the image.

Having said that, Kodak’s D-76 is considered a classic, an excellent all-round developer. It’s a perfectly fine place to start. (Other developers are more “specialists”—e.g. increasing apparent sharpness, but at the cost of greater graininess, etc.)

You mix up 1 liter of D-76 stock solution according to the package directions, but must let it cool before using. I suggest not re-using that same stock solution over and over (allowing it to become exhausted). Instead, use it diluted 1:1 with water—mixing just enough to cover your reel(s) before use, and then discarding after. Note that development times for the 1:1 dilution are longer, and will be listed separately from the “straight” D-76 times.

My personal favorite developer is Kodak’s HC-110, a thick syrup concentrate. HC-110 yields image properties similar to D-76. With HC-110, I also mix up just enough solution for each film right before use. But the syrup is so concentrated that I must use a 12ml syringe to measure it (no needle, though!).

After opening the bottle, the syrup will stay fresh for more than a year. The only downside for the occasional user is that one bottle can develop 50+ rolls; and if it takes you several years to get through that, you might have a problem.

Thermometers

Spec sheets usually specify development times at a temperature of 68°F/20°C . The rate of development increases with temperature, so you will need an accurate thermometer to measure this. The traditional darkroom thermometer has a big glow-in-the-dark dial; but if you have trouble locating one, it’s fine to pick up a cheap digital kitchen thermometer instead.

After the emulsion of your film has been wetted, it’s rather tender; so it’s important not to shock it with any sudden changes in temperature. You also use your thermometer to insure that the successive steps remain within a few degrees of the developer’s temperature. I usually fill the pink plastic tub seen above with tap water at 68°F/20°C, then set the stop and fix bottles in it for an hour or so before starting. Afterwards, that water can be re-used for the first few rinse baths.

“Stop bath” is a weak acid solution. It does not have any effect on the image itself—it’s simply a rinse, which halts the developing action very quickly and uniformly. The traditional stop bath had a distinct vinegar smell (which is essentially what it’s made from); many folks substitute a plain water rinse instead, with (apparently) no ill effects. Stop bath is so cheap that I’ve always used it, however.

Film Fixer

It does not matter in the slightest which brand of fixer you use: You can choose entirely based on whichever is available and convenient for you.

I prefer the liquid-concentrate fixers; but my local stores have stopped stocking them, so it’s back to powder for now.

What you do need to understand is that different types of fixers work at different rates; and furthermore different emulsion types fix at different speeds. The general rule is to open the tank lid at 1 minute and observe how long it takes until all the cloudy, milky haze disappears from the film; then continue fixing until twice this time has elapsed.

The final step of developing is rinsing the film and hanging it up to dry. If your tap water temperature is too cold, it won’t be effective at rinsing away the fixer residue (which then could form brown stains). It can take a bit of fiddling with the taps to get them flowing at a constant 68°F/20°C temperature. But don’t blast the film with hot water or the emulsion will go all wrinkly!

If your tap water contains a lot of minerals, drying water droplets can leave white, crusty rings on your negatives. So one optional final step is to end with a rinse of distilled water; or use a wetting agent (such as Kodak’s “Photo Flo”) to help water sheet off the negatives. Shedding water more quickly helps the negatives dry faster, too.

I did not show the weighted metal clips which many people use to hang up their wet film; they aim to minimize curling as the emulsion dries. But that’s something you can easily improvise with clothespins, binder clips, etc.

What is most important is that you find a sheltered location to hang your film, where air currents won’t be wafting dust and lint onto your damp, sticky emulsion. And even though you will certainly be dying to peek at how your first negatives came out, be patient! The tender emulsion needs to dry completely before you start handling it.

Good luck!

The Mamiya-6, a Classic 120 Folder

First, we need to clear up some confusing nomenclature. In the 1990s, Mamiya introduced a highly-regarded, plastic-bodied camera called the Mamiya 6. But today I’m going to show you its distant ancestor from the 1950s—the only similarity being that they are both 6×6 format rangefinders.

Some make the distinction between Mamiya Six (spelled out) for the company’s early 120 folding models, versus Mamiya 6 for the modern plastic ones. But in fact, the later 1950s folders are actually engraved MAMIYA-6 (note the hyphen).

Mamiya-6 Automat II

The Mamiya Six series began around 1940. Mine is the final model, introduced in 1958, which was the most sophisticated version. Its identification as the Automat II model is common in collector circles, but it’s not marked as such on the camera. Actually I noticed one eBay auction for this model with its original box, printed “Automatic Model 2.”

Despite its many refinements, by 1958 the market was moving away from this style of camera. Folding designs were beginning to seem archaic and excessively fragile. Even the venerable folding Kodak Retina line would switch over to a rigid body style by 1960. And amateur enthusiasm for 35mm film was rapidly eclipsing 120.

Mamiya-6, Folded

But “Medium Format in Your Pocket“—with a rangefinder for accurate focusing—is a great idea, one that deserves to be revived today (despite the archaic appearance of a camera with, *gasp* bellows).

In the world of 120 folders, this one is not particularly small; yet compared to my Minolta Autocord TLR it’s about 2/3rds of the volume, and saves 15% in weight. And it folds up to a tidy package about 2 inches thick with few projections to snag on a coat pocket.

Unlike some folders, its body style is nicely graspable, particularly by cradling the dropped door in your left hand. Unfortunately it lacks neck-strap lugs. (These would have been provided by the original leather case, which I am missing.)

The camera’s styling is angular and businesslike, rather than plump and cute like some of its folding competitors. The look seems to have been inspired by Zeiss folders of the day, especially the Super Ikonta III (right down to the horizontal stripes embossed in the leather).

However Mamiya bettered Zeiss by having their film winder also cock the shutter (hence the Automat name). The necessary linkage is hidden behind a cover at the front of the dropped bed—an easy way to ID the Automat models.

The cocking linkage does not work if you wind while the camera is folded (unlike a Retina). In that case, you’ll need to manually slide a cocking tab on the top of the shutter. (You can re-cock the shutter for double exposures in this way also.)

This model is meterless. The ASA dial is simply a reminder of which film you have loaded. Frankly, I prefer that to any untrustworthy 1950s selenium-cell meter marring the camera’s looks. The Seikosha shutter has (unevenly spaced) speeds from 1 to 1/500th second, set via a somewhat hard-to-grasp knurled ring.

An unusual feature of all the Six models was that they focused by moving the film plane, rather than the lens. Before seeing this in person, it sounded like a strange idea to me. But I’ve discovered no particular penalty in close-focusing distance, or film flatness. It allows for a more direct rangefinder coupling, and a focus thumbwheel on the camera body.

Mamiya-6, back view

Automatic advance knob with counter; focus thumbwheel

The thumbwheel focusing does require some mental re-adjustment. I always half-expect that turning it will advance the film (as it would on my Olympus XA compact). However its location is actually quite convenient. There’s a distance and depth-of-field indicator atop the camera, but the coarse gradations of its footage scale make it pretty ineffective.

The moving focal plane means the camera has a separate pressure plate which slides out from the body during loading—if this part is lost, the camera becomes essentially worthless, because focus will be totally erratic.

Compared to the ubiquitous red window, and competitors’ sometimes balky automatic frame-spacing methods, the Automat’s film-advance scheme is refreshingly easy. (If you want quirky, try a Balda Baldax sometime.)

Thread the film, then wind with the back open until the Start arrow lines up with white dots near the takeup spool. Remember to replace the pressure plate, close the back, and wind until the knob stops and “1″ shows in the advance knob’s counter window.

Loading film in Mamiya-6

Replace the pressure plate after threading the 120 backing paper. Note the white bandaging tape added to the takeup spool.

Following that, frame spacing and shutter cocking are automatic. After you expose frame 12, the knob can turn continuously again until you’ve wound all the backing paper onto the takeup spool. Easy!

A red window is provided on the film door if you feel the need to check what’s happening inside there (it has a nice spring-loaded cover); but in my experience it’s superfluous.

Today’s film must be a bit thinner than the 1950s stuff: My Automat’s film advance tends to give pretty tight spacing between frames. To avoid this, you may want to wrap a couple of strips of cloth bandaging tape (about 4″ long) around the takeup spool’s inner core.

This camera’s viewfinder is no prize—it’s kind of small and dim (even when new, and certainly now after 50 years). Yet the automatic cocking and film advance, along with the thumbwheel focusing, rank a Mamiya-6 Automat as one of the user-friendliest 120 folders.

The original Six was Mamiya’s earliest product, before they had their own lens-manufacturing capabilities. For many years they used other companies’ optics (including, briefly, one Nikkor lens).

But in the 1950s Mamiya generally used Olympus D.Zuiko lenses. The D is not someone’s initial: It’s an Olympus code for the number of lens elements (D=4, E=5, F=6, etc.). Thus a D.Zuiko is a 4-element Tessar-type design.

Mamiya-Sekor lens

By version 2 of the Automat, Mamiya had begun producing their own Tessar copy, simply labelled Mamiya-Sekor.

This is a credible performer, but not quite as snappy as some competitors (for example, the 4-element Rokkor on my Minolta TLR is outstanding).

But simply using the larger 6×6 negative gives a noticeable improvement in detail regardless. And the Mamiya-Sekor lens seems to give agreeable bokeh in most situations.

While my Six has a focus scale labeled in feet, not meters, Mamiya’s name only made rare appearances in US photo magazines of the 1950s. And in the accelerating 35mm wave of the 1960s and 70s, the brand never achieved the same success as their competitors. Instead, Mamiya earned their greatest recognition with their professional medium-format cameras.

In that arena they were hugely innovative: They began with the landmark C-series twin lens reflexes: Pro-duty TLRs with—uniquely—interchangeable lenses. They developed an interesting press camera series in the 1960s; then followed it with the workhorse RB67 cameras; and finally invented the first 6×4.5 system SLR (and continued to develop that with new versions all the way into the autofocus era).

Mamiya also made some of the more interesting entries in the Japanese 16mm subminiature boom. Finally in more recent history they introduced not only the (new-style) Mamiya 6, but also a 6×7 variation called the Mamiya 7—both earning praise as fast-handling cameras yielding outstanding image quality. It’s a company with an interesting history of groundbreaking products.

Mamiya even moved into the professional digital realm with a 22-megapixel back to fit their latest 645 model. But in 2006 Mamiya’s parent company decided there was more money to be made in their other, diversified product lines—including golf clubs and pachinko machines—and spun off the camera division to an unrelated tech company. Now there is a cloud of uncertainty over Mamiya’s future.

If you look closely, you may note that the condition of my Six is a little rough. The leather has some flaws, including a missing piece on the shutter-cocking guard. The bellows look a bit mashed (but remain light-tight). The camera was dropped at some point, slightly bending its wind knob. The body is engraved with the original owner’s name (and his profession, “architect” —googling found one tantalizing mention of modernist apartments he designed in Miami.)

But I enjoy vintage cameras as “users,” rather than imprisoning them in some display case. So I don’t mind a few dings and quirks. They relieve any guilt I might have about taking these old Eisenhower-era marvels out, and bashing around shooting pictures with them.

And a camera as nice as this Mamiya-6 certainly deserves to be used.

Sample Photo with Mamiya-6: Argus Camera Factory

Sample Mamiya-6 photo: Detail of former Argus Camera optics shop, Ann Arbor, Michigan. Fuji Neopan 400, red filter.