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BLAST FROM THE PAST
MAKING THE FIRST BLACK AND WHITE
PHOTOGRAPHS WITH THE 20x24 POLAROID CAMERA

 

Shortly after New Years, I had the idea that 2024 would be the perfect time to write about my involvement with the Polaroid 20x24 camera. A year denoted 2024 was too good of a coincidence to pass up! With the year drawing to a close, now seems like the ideal moment to follow through on that thought.

In March 1981, I had the distinct honor of creating the very first black and white photographs with Polaroid's massive 20x24 camera. The invitation came from John J. McCann of Polaroid Corporation, a close friend of Ansel's, whom I first met in 1979 when he led Polaroid's team for Ansel's official portraits of President Jimmy Carter and Vice President Walter Mondale–made with the 20x24 Polaroid camera. John was instrumental in designing, building, and testing the 20x24 camera, among many other pioneering projects at Polaroid.

A few years ago, John and I were reminiscing about those remarkable days of photography back in March 1981. Following our conversations, John kindly wrote a letter detailing those days with the camera. With his permission, I will share excerpts from his letter here and hope, in the future, to publish the entire letter along with more detailed memories of my experiences with the 20x24 camera.

As John McCann described our first day of black and white 20x24 Polaroid photography in his letter:

John Sexton was the first photographer to use Polaroid's Black and White film in a 20x24 camera. I accompanied John during a most memorable pair of expeditions to Memorial Church in Harvard Yard and the John F. Kennedy Library on Boston harbor with the second-generation Polaroid 20x24 camera. John took a series of spectacular images, even though this was a brand-new film.... The first 20x24 films were color. Subsequently, John Branca made the very handsome black and white film that John Sexton used. Later, John Branca was promoted to be Director of the Black and White Film Laboratory.

The compression of all image-making steps into one is convenient, but it also presents a challenge for the photographer. John is a master of visualizing the desired final print and controlling the many steps between scene and print. In conventional photography these steps include adjustments of the camera optics, the light exposure, the negative development process, and the print exposure and development. Most of the useful tools available in conventional negative-positive image making are unavailable in instant photography. The photographer must understand the light coming from the scene to the camera and film's response to visualize the instant result.

John's work over those two days was outstanding. The images speak for themselves. It was very rewarding to see our device being used to make such beautiful images.

Although I had handled the 20x24 extensively while assisting Ansel during his portrait sessions in Washington, D.C., nothing prepared me for the monumental experience of composing on its enormous ground glass. That first day at the John F. Kennedy Library, we had a dedicated team including John, his wife Mary, Peter Bass, Alan MacLean, and John Branca—all from Polaroid.

 

Polaroid SX-70 Happy Snaps
March 7, 1981 – John F. Kennedy Library
Making the first 20x24 Polaroid Black and White Photographs

 

Some may recall that Polaroid's black and white prints required coating to preserve and protect the image, using a solution with a strong acetic acid odor. The print coater applicators only covered a few normal size prints each. For the massive 20x24 prints, coating was a feat in itself; it took approximately a dozen coaters to cover each print. Despite beginning with what appeared to be a massive supply of coaters, John Branca had to make one—or possibly even two—trips back to the research labs to retrieve more. At this point, none of the three Johns can recall for sure! Not long after these first days of black and white 20x24 Polaroid photography, it was discovered that using an inexpensive paintbrush dipped in the proprietary coater solution offered a much simpler and more effective method for applying the coating.

Two days later, Peter Bass and I scouted Harvard's Memorial Church as a potential subject. Later that day, John McCann, Peter, and I returned with the 20x24 camera. After studying the possibilities of the magnificent pipe organ with my viewing frame, I organized an image on the ground glass that excited me. The long focal length of the lenses for this format camera meant that very small apertures were often necessary for adequate depth of field. After compensating for reciprocity departure, I ended up with an exposure of sixteen minutes.

 

Pipe Organ, Memorial Church, Harvard Yard
Cambridge, Massachusetts
©1981 John Sexton. All rights reserved.
Reproduced from the 20x24 Polaroid Land photographic print

When we pulled the first print, I was extremely excited by what I saw but immediately realized I had a challenge. There were some ceiling lights burned out in the right side which created an imbalance so that the upper left corner of the image was far too bright. Using techniques I occasionally employed when exposing smaller format Polaroid prints, I burned in or darkened the brighter upper left corner by carefully moving a piece of black cardboard over the top left portion of the lens during the minutes long exposure, balancing the light across the image. A 20x24 print of the pipe organ hangs in Anne's office, still in perfect condition after 43 years.

In late 1982, John invited me back to Polaroid for training on all aspects of the 20x24 camera system so that I could use it for landscape photography in California. This made me the first non-Polaroid employee to receive such training. Adjusting the camera's titanium rollers (which spread the developing solution onto the negative and print material) to within a few thousandths of an inch was an art, which I learned from Peter Bass. Adjusting this distance, or gap, was crucial to achieving optimal print quality and uniform tone. Even the slightest changes could significantly impact the contrast and sharpness of the print. Precise adjustments became especially essential in the field, where temperature fluctuations could alter the viscosity of the developer reagent solution in the pods. Additionally, the inevitable jostling from traveling over rough roads could cause the rollers to shift slightly but meaningfully. The Polaroid 20x24 camera system, therefore, demanded considerable tender loving care when used in outdoor settings.

When the camera arrived at my home and studio in late 1982, I realized I needed a way to transport it in the back of my Ford van. I had a cabinetmaker friend make a ramp that allowed myself and my assistant at the time, Rod Dresser, to tilt the 200-pound camera back into the van, and then with wheels mounted on this large wooden ramp we could hoist it up and push it in on top of the wooden surface of the bed that was in the back of my van. It wasn't easy with the combined weight of the large ramp and the camera, but it worked surprisingly well.

Our first trial outing, in January 1983, to Pfeiffer Beach in Big Sur was a lesson in logistics; the small wheelchair wheels that allowed for easy movement of the camera on smooth hard surfaces sank immediately into the sand. I don't think we made it even 5-feet off the asphalt surface of the parking lot, before the camera sank into the sand. We also had to operate within the range of a 100-foot extension cord powered, through an inverter connected to my van's battery. That evening, after stowing the 20x24 in disappointment, Rod and I then took out our 4x5 cameras and I made a photograph, Pfeiffer Beach at Dusk, which later appeared in my book Quiet Light.

After taking several shorter trips closer to home, we decided to embark on a bigger adventure to Death Valley—and it turned out to be a much more productive choice. You might wonder why we didn't opt for Yosemite instead, which was closer and offered plenty of interesting viewpoints conveniently located along the paved roads. The reason? Temperature! The developer in the pods struggled to work effectively in temperatures below 65°F (although we did manage to achieve good results in cooler conditions during some of our outings). With its consistently warmer climate, Death Valley became the ideal destination.

 

John Sexton with 20x24 Polaroid camera and 16x20" print
Zabriskie Point, Death Valley National Park, California
©1983 Jim Ginney. All rights reserved.

The camera can only make vertical images, which was perfect for making portraits, but if you wanted to make a horizontal image an adjustment to the roller drive motor could be made that allowed you to make a more diminutive size 16x20" horizontal image–still a VERY large size Polaroid print! We did this on several occasions. Death Valley was exciting, but again, we were limited as there was no way that we could get out onto the sand dunes, or other more rugged locations. Perhaps we should have given more thought to the sand before choosing Death Valley for our expedition, especially after our first experience at Pfeiffer Beach!

 

John Sexton "Burns In" Sky with the help of Rod Dresser
Zabriskie Point, Death Valley National Park, California
©1983 Jim Ginney. All rights reserved.

One of the unexpected challenges of using the massive Polaroid camera was how quickly it drew a crowd. At one roadside viewpoint in Death Valley, we inadvertently caused a traffic jam. People were fascinated by the camera, and on several occasions, they applauded as we pulled the negative and revealed the print. Eventually, we had to improvise a sign on the back of a discarded Polaroid print, using a black marker to explain that we were working on a project and couldn't answer questions.

We decided to head west toward Lone Pine and the Easter Sierra. As we traveled westward, we stopped in the near-ghost town of Darwin. Amidst the desolation, we found an old building with a wire-covered window that interested me. We setup the huge 20x24 camera, and conspicuous as it was, didn't attract a single onlooker!

 

Window, Abandoned Building
Darwin, California
©1983 John Sexton. All rights reserved.
Reproduced from the 20x24 Polaroid Land photographic print

We continued to Lone Pine and were greeted with high winds–the nemesis of large format cameras, and we were using an ULTRA large format camera! We got up early the next morning planning to head out to photograph sunrise in the nearby Alabama Hills. As we were rolling the camera from the motel room to the van, the wind was so severe it blew the back door that protected the fragile ground glass right off the camera! We did adventure out with the camera, but the wind created problems. It was simply blowing too hard to produce sharp images, and at a certain point we realized it was not going to be productive to use the camera under those conditions. Reluctantly, we decided to head back home to the Monterey Peninsula.

There were other photographic explorations near home, and I also made some still life images, as well as portraits during the time I had the camera. It was an exciting, and unique, experience I will never forget.

My gratitude to John and Mary McCann and John Branca for helping me rekindle these memories. Having friends and colleagues with whom to reminisce on such adventures—four decades past—is a gift beyond words.

 

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REMEMBERING PAUL CAPONIGRO

Anne and I were deeply saddened to learn of Paul Caponigro's passing on November 10, 2024, just weeks shy of his 92nd birthday. The news instantly created a void in msy being. Paul Caponigro is a name that resonates with nearly all who love the art of photography, as he stands among the true legends of the medium. His extraordinary career spanned nearly seven decades, leaving an indelible mark on the field. Many of you, no doubt, can visualize a number of Paul's iconic images as you reflect on his remarkable legacy.

Anne and I extend our love and heartfelt thoughts to Paul's son, John Paul, his wife, Ardie, their son, Sol, and the entire Caponigro family, along with all of Paul's close friends. Paul's charming and engaging personality touched many lives, and he was loved by many.

Much has been written about Paul's long and illustrious career, but I hope to offer a glimpse into the friend who helped guide my journey in photography over the past five decades. Paul's influence extended beyond his words; I learned and drew inspiration from both what he said and the quiet wisdom in what he left unsaid. His breathtaking images and stunning prints continually motivate me to pursue the passion I feel so fortunate to embrace today.

Reflecting Stream, Redding, Connecticut
©1968 Paul Caponigro. All rights reserved.

I first met Paul in April 1974, a little over 50 years ago, during the Ansel Adams Gallery's Easter workshop in Yosemite. It was only the second photography workshop I had ever attended. Alongside Paul, the workshop's instructors included Wynn Bullock, Henry Holmes Smith, Norman Locks, Roger Minick, and Joan Murray.

My interactions with Paul during that workshop were both significant and lasting. I had the privilege of observing him in the field as he worked with his 5x7 Deardorff camera and to see him work in the darkroom. However, the most profound and memorable moments came during a print critique session. Each participant shared their portfolio, and Paul approached the task with a quiet, methodical focus, carefully studying every print.

Although I had experienced critique sessions the previous June at an Ansel Adams workshop with several instructors, including Ansel himself, Paul's approach stood out. While he addressed the technical aspects of photography, offering both praise and constructive suggestions, his feedback went far beyond the technical. Paul asked thoughtful questions about feelings, ideas, and emotions, inviting deeper reflection, rather than making proclamations.

As a 20-year-old relatively new to photography, I found the questions posed during the critique challenging. In the moment, any answers I could come up with felt inadequate. As the session progressed, I came to realize that Paul's questions weren't meant to be resolved immediately. Instead, they were designed to provoke thoughts, to be reflected upon, and to guide each photographer's growth over time. While I received a limited amount of praise–along with considerable constructive criticism–the questions highlighted areas in both my life and my photography that needed deeper consideration. The critique didn't leave me disappointed, but it did leave me unsettled, with much to think about.

 

John with Paul Caponigro at his home in Cushing, Maine 2013
©2013 Anne Larsen. All rights reserved.

After the intense critique session, I decided to retreat to one of my favorite spots in Yosemite—Fern Spring, to ruminate and digest what Paul had said and how I might try to better understand the wisdom he shared with all of us that afternoon. As I sat alone next to the diminutive Fern Spring, I felt rejuvenated by the landscape that I loved, and clarity began to slowly filter into my young mind. As time passed, I decided to make a photograph. It seemed the best way to begin to search for answers to the thought provoking questions Paul had posed.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have maintained a friendship with Paul for over five decades. The lessons I learned from him and the other instructors at the 1974 Easter workshop shaped my growth as a photographer. So, when a few months later, I learned Paul would be teaching at the Newport School of Photography in Newport Beach, California—just a short distance from my parents' home—I jumped at the chance to attend. That workshop, too, was a transformative experience.

One of the exercises we all participated in was making simple prints of solid black, white, and various shades of gray in the group darkroom, under Paul's guidance. For this exercise, the enlarger wasn't loaded with any negatives, which initially felt like an unusual approach. However, the purpose became clear the next day when the prints had dried. Paul instructed us to cut out squares and rectangles of varying gray tones, from deep black to bright white, and encouraged us to play with these tones as he spoke about the magic and beauty of silver prints. It was fascinating to see how a light gray could appear as bright white when placed on a black background, or how two adjacent gray tones could create a sense of resonance. This thoughtful and meditative exercise revealed the subtle complexities of tonal relationships. Over the years, I have borrowed this exercise and incorporated it into my own teaching.

Paul's remarkable talents as both a photographer and a pianist have been widely celebrated. His passion for classical music and his extraordinary skill at the piano were evident to all who had the privilege of hearing him play. I had the pleasure to hear Paul play his Bösendorfer piano at his home in Cushing, Maine as well as on several occasions when he visited Ansel and Virginia's home. Paul's musical expression was as distinctive as his photographic voice, and his ability to orchestrate light in his prints was truly amazing.

On the first day of the workshop, Paul showed us to his Portfolio One, a breathtaking collection of 12 prints. The price of the portfolio, which had been published in 1962, was $1,200. During our lunch break, one of the workshop participants came up with a unique idea: if 12 of us contributed $100 each, we could collectively purchase the portfolio—if Paul agreed. This way, each of us would own a Paul Caponigro print for just $100, significantly less than his usual prices at the time. After lunch, the organizer of this idea approached Paul with the proposal. Paul responded warmly, saying, "That sounds like a fine idea, but what will you do with the beautifully printed title page, the list of photographs, and the portfolio case?" The plan was that there would be a lottery-style drawing for the selection of the prints, and then we would have another drawing for the additional components. Paul whole-heartedly agreed to the somewhat unusual proposal.

I was eager to participate but faced a problem—I only had $50. The only other photographic print I had ever purchased was a beautiful Ansel Adams Special Edition of Yosemite, which, thanks to the workshop discount the previous June, had cost me just $10. That evening, I shared my predicament with my close friend and photography professor, David Drake, after his class. I explained the day's events and the opportunity to own a Caponigro print. To my surprise and immense gratitude, David offered to loan me the $50 I needed. I gladly accepted his generous offer. While I don't specifically remember repaying him, I'm certain I must have, as we remained close friends for many years until his passing in 2007.

Amazingly, by sheer good fortune I ended up with my first choice of image, Frosted Window No. Two, Ipswich, Massachusetts. The print has been framed, and on the wall, for more than five decades, and still provides me with a calm joy every time I see it.

 

Frosted Window No. Two, Ipswich, Massachusetts
©1961 Paul Caponigro. All rights reserved.

I visited Paul twice at his home in Santa Fe, New Mexico, during the time we were both teaching as faculty members at a workshop held there. Later, when I began teaching at the Maine Photographic Workshops, Paul was "in residence" at the Workshops. A few years after that, he relocated to Maine full-time. Every summer, while I taught at MPW, I would visit Paul, and we often shared a meal together. We also enjoyed a number of meals during his regular visits to the Monterey Peninsula.

Here's a note I received from Paul, dated April 1st, 1999:

Hi John and Anne –

I understand we are sharing the walls of the Alinder Gallery this month.
Sorry not to be at the opening and in fact miss very much not being at the Pacific Coast this year. And then I heard that you will not be coming to Maine this year–how's a guy supposed to squeeze a good meal and a fine bottle of wine out of you if we can't get together!

At times Paul could be a bit of a curmudgeon, but what I can see in my mind's eye is his warm smile, and I will always remember his wonderful sense of humor. For those unfamiliar with him, oftentimes his dry, yet witty delivery often flew under the radar until the moment people realized he was playfully pulling their leg. Over the years, he would occasionally include a cartoon with a letter entirely unrelated to our ongoing communications, simply to share a laugh. Paul loved to laugh, he cherished life, and, to borrow a phrase from the late, great photographer Ruth Bernhard, he is now "flying with the angels." His legacy will soar for many generations and his photographs will continue to inspire, pose questions, resonate, and become indelible memories in countless people for years and years.

I believe every meaningful photograph is, in some way, a self-portrait of the photographer who created it. Paul's extraordinary body of work forms a mosaic that offers a glimpse into the heart and soul of an exceptional and singular human being.

Rest in peace, Paul.

 

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HAPPY 70th BIRTHDAY KODAK TRI-X FILM!

On November 1, 1954—nearly a year and a half after I was born—Eastman Kodak revolutionized photography by introducing Kodak Tri-X black and white film. Released in 35mm and 120 roll film sizes, as well as 4x5" film packs, it was the fastest film available at the time. This innovative technology broke new ground for photographers, enabling them to photograph in low-light conditions and record high-speed action and motion with ease. Its film speed of ASA (same as ISO) 200 in daylight and 160 under tungsten illumination seems modest by today's standards.

In our fast-paced world of rapidly evolving digital camera sensors and technology, where every 18 to 24 months brings a new wave of latest and greatest upgrades, it's remarkable that Tri-X has stood the test of time for 70 years. Even more astounding is that Tri-X remains Kodak's best-selling black-and-white film—and, as I understand it, the best-selling black-and-white film in the world! It's hard to think of another technological product that has met the needs of its users so successfully, while evolving over the decades to remain the industry leader.

Vintage 35mm Kodak Tri-X Pan c. 1960 film on left, contemporary Kodak 400 Tri-X on right

What some may not realize is that Tri-X actually debuted in 1939, in sheet film formats only, with the same film speed as its roll film successors that would follow 15 years later. This means that the basic Tri-X film emulsion technology has endured and thrived for an incredible 85 years!

The fanfare surrounding the 1954 launch was due to Tri-X becoming available in roll film sizes for the first time. The new high-speed film combined with relatively fast lenses on 35mm cameras of the day, opened new and exciting creative possibilities. These new film formats maintained the same speed as the 1939 sheet film and were celebrated throughout the photographic press. For example, Bob Schwalberg's article in the December 1954 issue of Popular Photography declared Tri-X "the new super-speed roll film," and stated, "Indoor candids are easy with Tri-X at low-light levels." Since then, it's staggering to think how many millions—if not billions—of photographs have been created using Tri-X emulsions across its various formats. There are even software filters for photographic editing programs that claim to replicate "The Tri-X Look." I've never encountered one that is successful in that task–as least to my eyes, but maybe I've just looked at too many silver gelatin prints made from 'real' Tri-X negatives?

 

Opening page from Bob Schwalberg's article on the Kodak Tri-X 35mm film
Popular Photography magazine, December 1954

 

A pivotal moment for Tri-X came in 1960, when Kodak significantly improved the emulsion, doubling its speed to ASA 400. This new version, labeled "TX", is essentially the same roll film emulsion we use today. A few years later, Kodak introduced Tri-X Professional in sheet film with an ASA of 320, which also remains extremely popular with large format photographers today. I have included an image below made on Kodak Tri-X Professional film.

In 1972, as a photography major at Cypress College, I took the required Intermediate Photography class under the guidance of Marshall LaCour. For this course, we were required to use a 4x5" view camera (which the school supplied)—but we had the freedom to use whatever film we wanted...as long as it was Kodak Tri-X Professional film!!! Looking back, this requirement proved invaluable. I relied almost exclusively on Tri-X for the next 14 years of my photographic career. When Kodak introduced T-Max 100 and T-Max 400 films, using T-Grain technology, in 1986, I transitioned to them. As a consultant on the T-MAX project, it's no surprise that I embraced those films—and still use them today.

 

Birch Trunks, New Hampshire
©1984 John Sexton. All rights reserved.
Made on 4x5 Kodak Tri-X Professional film
Scanned from the silver gelatin print

 

As Tri-X celebrates its 70th birthday (or is it actually 85 years old?),
I salute a film that has shaped the world of photography like few others.

Here's to Kodak Tri-X—may its legacy continue for decades to come!

 

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SUGGESTED READING
WILD EYE MAGAZINE

 

 

Our good friend and talented photographer, Jason Bradley, based in nearby Pacific Grove, has recently launched a stunning new online photography magazine Wild Eye.

Jason, the publisher, and his dedicated team—including Editor-in-Chief Dan Havlik and several esteemed contributors—share a strong connection to Outdoor Photographer magazine, which unfortunately ceased publication last year.

In the inaugural issue of Wild Eye, Jason encapsulates its mission:

What is Wild Eye? We are a lens on the untamed world; a magazine that focuses on the best of the world's nature, landscape, wildlife, and underwater photography, with a strong and unyielding emphasis on conservation. Conservation is not just a buzzword for us—it is the driving force behind this publication.

This quarterly magazine, currently available in digital format, features an elegant and contemporary design. The debut issue spans over 100 pages and showcases stunning photography and insightful articles by renowned contributors, including Paul Nicklen, Erin Babnik, David DuChemin, Amy Gulick, Reuben Wu, and the legendary Ted Orland—our dear friend!

Beyond the magazine, the Wild Eye website offers a wealth of fascinating and valuable content.

The inaugural issue of Wild Eye is available for free download. In addition, as a special introductory offer, you can subscribe to receive future issues for just $29 for the first ye

 

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CLOSING WORDS FROM PAUL CAPONIGRO

At the root of creativity is an impulse to understand
to make sense of random and often unrelated details.
For me, photography provides an intersection of time,
space, light and emotional stance.
One needs to be still enough,
observant enough and aware enough
to recognize the life of the materials,
to be able to 'hear through the eyes."

— Paul Caponigro

 

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