I had the privilege today to work with a group of kids (mostly kindergarten and first graders) in a pinhole photography workshop. Pinhole photography is not exactly in the mainstream of photography, so it was refreshing to introduce others to its possibilities.

The event was organized by the Dunham Tavern Museum, a local historical spot on Cleveland's near east side. It was held at the Rainey Institute, an awesome inner-city center that teaches neighborhood kids about the arts.

Anyway, Elizabeth Wantz, the Museum Manager, conducted the event. We met through my friends at LabWork (probably the best black and white lab you'll find in the U.S.). The design of the camera was simple. Elizabeth was able to get a local paint manufacturer to donate quart cans. A nail was driven in the middle side, covered with foil and taped down with masking tape, and then a small pin used to prick a hole in the foil. Black duct tape was used as a "shutter." She used photo paper as the media, cut into 4 x 5-inch pieces.

My role, as the "professional," was to show the kids what pinhole cameras could look like, and show samples of the kind of images they could produce. I did what I thought was a commendable job, using the "KISS," method and then opened the floor for questions.

One of the first questions was, "What's film?"

Damn, should have seen that one coming, given that the average age was probably seven. I did my best to explain that it was a light-sensitive chemical on plastic, or in our case, paper. I know. Huh?

So, in groups of six or so, Elizabeth and I took the students into a makeshift darkroom. She cut the 8 x 10 sheets of photo paper into 4 x 5 pieces and handed them to the students to insert and then seal the can. The room was pretty dark but by the time each group was completed, you could distinguish shapes.

But light will find its way. Especially when, say, a youngster decides to jump up and down with LED light-up shoes, or another decides to check their cell phone.

I won't be around when the kids take their photos. I'm sure many don't get the concept that they only get one shot, and the "shutter" has to stay taped over the pinhole at all other times. I'd be real happy with a 30% success rate.

Oh, my other favorite question, "Are you really, really, really, really, really, really, really sure this will take a picture?"

Absolutely.

There was a long period in my career when my primary duties did not involve taking pictures. It was about a 20-year stretch. But I looked at pictures, millions of them, as part of my job as a photo editor. I’d like to think that helped me be a better photographer.

I still took photos during that stretch, but it was mostly family, travel, etc. And I did photograph a number of assignments, especially sports, when staff manpower was low.

In 2000 I left the newspaper business and re-defined myself as a business co-owner in another part of the country. And while I did have to extend my skill set to some new areas, I suddenly had the opportunity to make the photos I wanted to make. I am still trying to figure out how my interpretive skills changed. But I am now free to pursue my photography as “art.”

Which brings me to, photographically speaking, what is art and what is just a really good photo? Is there a difference? How does the work of a photojournalist differ from an art photographer?

Certainly most photojournalism, straight-up news, is not art. That’s not to say that a single editorial photo can not be artistic, but other than its news/historical importance… would you hang it on your wall?

Well, yes, if it evoked an emotion within me. Art is emotion.

About five years ago our company bought a Robert Rigby made 50mm pinhole camera that took 4x5 film holders (or Polaroid). I knew what pinhole photography was, but had never dipped my toes in it.

The first time I used it I didn’t know what to expect. I made some photos on Polaroid 55 film (RIP) that produced a positive and a negative (that is sooo cool). One of the photos I made in that session (Sentinel Tree) hooked me like a Smallmouth on a hand-crafted Mayfly bug.

In my last post I mentioned the five basic elements of when I was learning the craft. Suddenly there were four: film type, film ASA, shutter speed and focal length. My aperture is fixed.

I have other photographic interests, but I'll leave those to cover later. This elemental form of photography has captured my Muse for now.

SIDEBAR: Muse or Muses from Greek mythology really doesn’t cover the visual arts (unless you include it in Tragedy). The nine generally accepted Muses were: Epic Poetry, History, Lyric Poetry, Music, Tragedy, Religious Music, Dance, Comedy and Astronomy.

So, let’s combine inspiration/visual acuity/graphic perception/mood/energy level/etc. That’s my muse. Photographica.

But wait, there’s more.

DOUBLE SIDEBAR: Saint Veronica, according to the Holy Catholic Church, is the patron saint of laundry workers and photographers. She is the one who approached Christ on his way to Golgatha and wiped his face with a towel, leaving an imprint of his face on the towel.

Two birds with one stone. Laundry worker, photographer.

I’ve been compelled to convert my small basement workshop into a part-time darkroom. I still own an enlarger. But, even more so, this space is now my workbench for constructing and modifying cameras.

I’m not sure where this will all lead, but I’m looking forward to the ride.

Taken today at our local sledding hill. Part of a style of photos I call "Reconstructions." Taken on my Canon G9, assembled in Photoshop Elements 9.