Photography
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Progressively Blind Photography
As someone on the cusp of complete blindness, I’ve found joy and frustration in equal measure within the vibrant online communities for the blind and visually impaired. Social media groups buzz with stories of adaptation, innovation, and triumphs over adversity, reminders that we are not defined by our lack of sight but rather our spirit. This morning, whilst scrolling through my feed, I stumbled upon a post from Blind New World that caught my attention. It linked to an article in Amateur Photographer titled, “How Can a blind photographer take such great photos? Find out here.” As a photographer who’s been chasing light and shadow for nearly 40 years, selling prints and services for two decades of that time, any whisper of a fellow blind photographer pulls me in like a moth to a flame.
I double tapped the link, settled back, and let VoiceOver voice paint the words across my mind. At first, a smile tugged at my lips. Here was someone like me, turning limitation into art. But as the article unfolded, that smile faded into a thoughtful frown. The photographer in question, Gary, isn’t blind, he’s visually impaired, navigating the world through a haze of blurriness that, while challenging, still grants him glimpses of clarity I can envy. Don’t get me wrong, I am genuinely thrilled for Gary. His work is remarkable, a testament to persistence and creativity in the face of adversity.
Yet, I could not shake a quiet pang of disappointment. The title’s promise of a “blind” photographer felt like a gentle sleight of hand, one that blurred the lines between our experiences in a way that left me feeling a tad unseen. It’s a small thing, perhaps, but it highlights a broader truth I’ve pondered often: visibility in the photography world, especially for those of us with disabilities, often hinges on connections, contexts, and sometimes, a certain alignment with the cultural and political currents.
From my own perspective, I’ve watched patterns emerge in the stories that break through and get attention. Time and again, the blind photographs who grace magazine pages or TED stages seem to hail from he art world or carry a progressive left wing banner. It’s an observation born of countless hours of reading articles and being involved in photography for decades. These individuals often arrive at photography with a pre-existing platform, galleries whispering their name or networks amplifying their voice through he lense of activism. In an industry where “edgy” and “avant-garde” can open doors, a narrative laced with political fervor for the left or artistic pedigree travels far. It’s the old adage of “it’s not just what you, but who you know”.
I write all of this not with bitterness, but with humility and the hope that one day I will get recognized for my work, not for a political stance. I’ve captured deserts that whisper of ancient secrets, canyons where rivers carve stories in stone, and everyday moments in parks. Like Gary, I shoot in black and white and love contrast. My work doesn’t sell. I have done everything possible to get my work out amongst the public, but it hasn’t caught the eye of a sponsor or a spotlight article.
The gentleman in this article says that he can’t use film cameras any more. That’s a choice. My vision is far worse than his, and I still shoot film and develop it at home. It’s not easy, but I do it because I love it.
What do you think? Have you encountered a “blind” story that didn’t match the label?
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White Cane Day Disaster
Today, October 15th, marks White Cane Safety Day, a national observance in the United States that’s been celebrated annually since 1964. It’s more than just a date on the calendar; it’s a powerful reminder of the incredible contributions blind and visually impaired individuals have made to the world, from innovators like Louis Braille, who revolutionized reading for the blind, to countless artists, scientists, and leaders who’ve shaped society because of their unique perspectives. But it’s also a stark call to action for all of us, especially motorists. The white cane isn’t just a mobility tool, it’s a symbol of invisibility. It screams, “We can’t see—please see us.”
As someone who relies on that very cane every day, I set out this afternoon with a mix of pride and purpose, heading to the post office on what should have been a routine errand. White Cane Day always stirs a bit of optimism in me, a hope that awareness will bridge the gaps in understanding. But reality has a way of humbling us, doesn’t it? Let me share what happened, because these aren’t just stories, they’re the everyday truths that underscore why this day matters so much.
I approached the crosswalk near my neighborhood, cane tapping rhythmically against the pavement, ears tuned to the symphony of traffic and distant engines. That’s when it happened, an electric car glided up silently, like a ghost in the machine. I stepped into the crosswalk and suddenly, a sharp honk pierced the air. The driver had the nerve to blast their horn at me, as if I were the one at fault for not leaping out of their path. I didn’t hear the car approaching; those whisper-quiet EVs are a nightmare for anyone navigating by sound alone. My heart raced, but I stood my ground, cane firmly planted. Blind pedestrians always have the right of way, and moments like this? They’re a brutal reminder that not everyone knows or respects that rule.
Shaken but determined, I continued to the post office, weaving through the parking lot with careful sweeps of my cane. As I walked behind what I assumed was an empty pickup truck, listening for any signs of life, the engine cranked to life. The driver, a kind-hearted lady as it turned out, must’ve been in a rush. Before I could react, shout, or sidestep, she began backing up. Thud. A light bump against my side, enough to send a jolt through me but not enough to knock me down. I might have a bruise blooming on my hip tomorrow, but honestly, no big deal in the grand scheme. She apologized profusely and asked if I was okay. “I was looking right at my backup camera,” she explained, “but you were in its blind spot.” She promised to double-check her mirrors next time, and I could tell the encounter shook her more than it did me. It’s encounters like this that humanize the statistics, turning abstract awareness into real empathy.
These aren’t isolated incidents; they’re the threads in a larger tapestry of hesitation that keeps many blind people sidelined from the streets. No matter how rigorous our Orientation and Mobility (O&M) training is, learning to navigate intersections, gauge traffic flow, and trust our senses, there’s always the wildcard: distracted drivers, overlooked signals, and yes, those insidious electric cars that sneak up without a whisper. It’s why we pause at curbs a little longer, why we grip our canes a little tighter. White Cane Day shines a light on this, urging society to not just recognize our achievements but to actively make space for our safety.
So, on this October 15th, let’s lean into the day’s dual spirit. Celebrate the blind trailblazers who’ve enriched our world, from Helen Keller’s advocacy to modern tech wizards coding accessibility into our digital lives. And to every driver out there: Scan those blind spots, yield at crosswalks, and remember what that white cane means. See us. Hear us. Make room for us. Because in a world that’s increasingly quiet and fast, awareness isn’t optional, it’s essential.
If you’ve got your own White Cane Day stories or tips for safer streets, drop them in the comments below. Let’s build a more visible path together.
Stay safe out there.
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Windsor 35
This incredibly quirky little rangefinder camera is a lot of fun to shoot. The Windsor 35 was developed and manufactured by Tōkō Shashin K.K, a.k.a. TKC, in 1953. TKC made quite a few cameras in the 40’s and 50’s, showcasing their creativity and innovation in the rapidly advancing field of photography. After WWII, they designed the Mightyy, a 17.5 mm paperback film camera, which was indicative of their forward-thinking approach. By the early 1950s, they were building a name for themselves and establishing a reputation amongst photography enthusiasts.
There is not a lot of information on the company, which adds a layer of mystery to their products and makes them even more intriguing for collectors. If any of you have any additional info on TKC or their other models, please let me know, as I’m eager to learn more about this fascinating brand. The Windsor 35 is not just a well-designed piece of machinery; it is a compact rangefinder camera that blends aesthetics with functionality. It is quirky, especially the rewind mechanism, which adds a unique character. To rewind the film, a person has to hold down the rewind button and turn the knurled rewind knob, creating a tactile and engaging experience. This is not a bad thing, but after rewinding twenty or so frames, you might wish there was another alternative to streamline the process.
I genuinely enjoyed shooting with the Windsor 35. There is no light meter in a camera of this era, which can be a bit daunting for new users. A person can buy a cold shoe light meter that works great with it or use an app on a mobile device, bridging the gap between vintage charm and modern technology. I use the Pro Light Meter app most of the time, and it has never let me down; it is always accurate and reliable, making it an excellent companion for my shooting adventures.The shutter goes from Bulb mode to 1/200th of a second, offering a variety of options for exposure. The shutter is crisp and in time on my model, delivering results that inspire confidence. The lens is a sharp 50mm f/3.5 T.K.C Color Sygmar lens, which produces images with a pleasing depth and clarity. F/3.5 was standard for the time for any rangefinder, though it still provides excellent performance in various lighting conditions.
That may not be a big enough aperture for some people, especially those who prefer shooting in low-light situations, but really, are you going to be doing street shooting or portraits in the dark? I used a flash with mine at a vibrant Christmas party and got amazing results from this little camera, showcasing its potential to adapt and perform well even in challenging environments. The rangefinder is accurate and the focusing system is smooth, making it a joy to use for both seasoned photographers and beginners. Like all tools, each one takes a bit of time to get used to it, but especially with a camera as user-friendly as this, it doesn’t take long to master its quirks and features.
This little camera is sleek and a conversation piece, often attracting attention and compliments wherever I take it. It also is somewhat rare, with limited availability in today’s market. There is not much information on these cameras or their manufacturer, adding to their allure among enthusiasts and collectors. If I held onto this one, it would be worth a lot more one day, given its uniqueness and the nostalgia it carries. But, I have a rule about cameras: if I haven’t used it in a year, I have to sell it. I haven’t stuck to that rule of late, but I’m consciously reinitiating this guideline. I’m selling this one on to someone who will genuinely enjoy it, giving it a new life in the hands of another creative individual. Besides, I have my eye on another rangefinder that I will hopefully talk more about soon, which will bring fresh experiences and new stories to capture.
This camera is the later version and has a flash sync port, which is a valuable addition for creative photography. I tested this feature and it does work well, enhancing the versatility of the camera. The shutter is crisp, and the aperture blades are smooth as butter, allowing for seamless adjustments while shooting. I currently have it listed on eBay for those interested in adding this charming camera to their collection. Go check it out; you may be the winning bidder who gets to explore its creative possibilities. If you have any questions about it, or if you’re curious about my experience with it, feel free to leave your comment or question below. Thank you for your interest!
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Zeiss Ikon Contessa
If you know me at all, you probably know that I love old Zeiss Ikon cameras. They are a bear to work on and a bit fiddly at times, but all old cameras have their quirks that make them unique and endearing. The camera I am reviewing today is the later Contessa, the compact rangefinder that, although it is heavy by today’s standards, it is compact for its time, embodying a blend of innovation and classic design. These were developed in the early sixties with selenium light cells for light meters, a cutting-edge technology at the time that highlighted the ingenuity of camera engineering.
Over the years, I have acquired a few of these with working light meters and a few that didn’t work at all, and it’s fascinating to see how the functionality can vary so significantly across different models. It is very rare that they are accurate, as the passage of time often takes its toll on these delicate mechanisms. I would not recommend you rely on that alone, especially with a color film that requires accuracy; after all, achieving the perfect shot is often about timing. Black and white film, what I use the majority of the time, has a lot more exposure latitude, allowing for a bit more creative freedom in the developing process.
This particular model is accurate within a stop some days and not accurate at all on other outings, creating a sense of unpredictability reminiscent of film photography’s charm. You can sometimes revitalize these old light meters by cleaning the contacts, a rewarding endeavor for those who enjoy tinkering; each restoration feels like breathing new life into a forgotten piece of history. Cleaning these old cameras is good to do, regardless of the chance of rescuing the light meter or not, as it enhances their functionality and preserves their beauty. The main reason for this post is to talk about the amazing little lens they put in these little cameras. It has a Carl Zeiss Tessar 50mm f/2.8 lens that is sharp and takes stunning photographs, rendering details in a way that often surpasses modern lenses. As stated, I usually use black and white film, but due to the coatings on the lens, you can use any color film, allowing for vibrant and rich imagery that stands the test of time.
This particular model has accurate shutter times, smooth aperture operation, and buttery focus, creating an exhilarating shooting experience that brings joy to both seasoned photographers and novices alike. These cameras are at such a great price point, making them an accessible option for anyone interested in exploring the world of rangefinder photography. If you want to try a rangefinder before shelling out thousands of dollars on a Leica, buy one of these cameras; the value they offer is truly exceptional. You will not be disappointed in the quality of the lens and its sharpness, which can capture faint details even in less-than-ideal lighting conditions. Due to its coatings, it does provide a lot of contrast as well, delivering images with depth that draw the viewer in.
I am selling this one on eBay, but I would recommend it whether I am selling one or not; my admiration for these cameras goes beyond mere transactions. If you have any questions about the camera, leave me a comment. Or, maybe you have one handed down through the generations, each with its own stories and memories. Tell me your story, as I am always excited to hear about fellow enthusiasts who understand the passion that surrounds these wonderful machines. -
Living in the Tonto National Forest in the High Desert
In May of this year, I wrote about moving to Arizona; in fact, it was my last post. We were so busy with selling the house and the chaos that ensued and finding a place to live out here that I didn’t update the blog. We’ve been living in the Tonto National Forest for almost two months. As you might imagine, moving across the country is an arduous journey and costly.
We are still unpacking and getting life sorted out. I transferred out here and then started a new job in late August. Life has been hectic, but we are loving it. One of the major reasons we chose Arizona, other than the fact that Deana is from this great state, was its stunning natural beauty, which has offered us endless opportunities for exploration and adventure. The vast landscapes, with their unique rock formations and diverse ecosystems, have become our new playground. Each weekend, we try to set off on new adventures. The local attractions are truly spectacular, and we rarely find ourselves bored with so much to see and do.
I tell people that it is a lot like the mountainous area of South Carolina. It is a more arid climate, of course, the flora and fauna are different, but the people are a lot like they are at home. We live in a small tourist town that more than doubles in size during the summer. The ponderosa pines and mesquite trees sing with glee and give off a glorious scent. The community here is vibrant and welcoming, and we’ve already made a number of friends who have introduced us to local customs and hidden gems that we might have otherwise missed. We’ve also participated in local festivals and farmers’ markets, where we’ve sampled delicious regional dishes and handmade crafts that showcase the talent and creativity of the local artisans.
The Mogollon Rim is one of the most breathtakingly beautiful places I have ever seen in my six decades on this earth. On a particularly wet Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago, we drove up to the top of the rim, or at least as far as we could get on pavement, and looked out over all the Ponderosa pines covering the Mazatzal mountains. As we arrived at the lookout, clouds rolled in below us, offering a heavenly vista of the world below, so serene and picturesque. This experience alone made all the challenges and hardships of our move worthwhile. The tranquility of the forest, coupled with the majesty of the towering cliffs, makes this place a true sanctuary.
