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The First Issue of Purblind Illumination
The arrival of the inaugural issue of “Purblind Illumination” in my mailbox was like a shaft of light piercing through the morning mist, courtesy of the diligent postman. The anticipation gave way to sheer delight as I admired the impressive tactile quality of the paper – its thickness, shadow detail, and the subtle sheen that seemed to caress each image.
Crafting this initial publication, I was intensely focused on the content as much as the aesthetics. The thickness and quality of the paper were not incidental. They were deliberate choices designed to showcase the photographs to their utmost potential. Each page was intended to be so much more than simply a part of a magazine—it was an individual frame-worthy print. It was essential that the visual stories I was telling appeared as I intended, fully embodying the narrative captured in that frozen moment of time.
Limited to 24 pages, the decision on brevity was as much an economic one as it was a qualitative one. Priced at an accessible $10 each, these pages are not merely to be flipped through, but to be pondered over, potentially even adorning the walls of those who appreciate the imagery as much as I do. To own a piece of “Purblind Illumination” is to possess a slice of artistic vision, one that could easily be mistaken for a standalone photograph in a frame.
Looking ahead, I envisage the evolution of subsequent issues. The current brevity will give way to a more elaborate narrative, where the imagery is complemented with background stories—texts that give insight into the captured moment. I aim to share the contemplations that preceded the click of the shutter, the accidental or painstakingly planned events that led to the final composition. This additional context will enrich the visual experience, providing a depth that completes the story each photograph intends to tell.
However, the crux of this venture battles against financial constraints. Maintaining affordability while producing a product of such high quality is a juggling act of sorts, with the commitment to keep the price below $20 an issue. This is not a lucrative endeavor; rather, it is one of passion and gratitude. Each magazine sold isn’t just a transaction; it is a meaningful exchange, support for my vision and lack thereof—quite literally—as I navigate the reality of my impending blindness.
I have previously confided about my vision; time is becoming a precious commodity, a dwindling resource. As I continue to document the world through my unique perspective, I will be seizing life, moment by moment, distilling it into a still image. The prognosis gives me a finite window of around two years of sight, during which I intend to pour my heart into this project.
While the future may see subtle tweaks to the format of “Purblind Illumination,” these changes will be inconsequential compared to the core of what the magazine represents—my lasting visual legacy, a testament to the beauty and poignancy of life as seen through my lens.
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Minolta SR-7 Comprehensive Review
In the vibrant and ever-evolving world of photography, it is not uncommon for enthusiasts to come across a piece of technology that stands the test of time. Such is the case of the magnificent Minolta SR-7, a camera that I reviewed back in July of 2023, which you can read about in my previous post. Since my initial review, my journey with the SR-7 has progressed, leading me to replace the deteriorating light seals—a small price to pay for the consistent performance of this vintage treasure.
The Minolta SR-7 is far more than just a camera—it’s a historical artifact. Cast yourself back to the year 1962, a period charged with the excitement of space exploration and the Kennedy administration, the SR-7 was introduced as the first 35mm SLR camera with a built-in CdS light meter, a feature that significantly simplified photography for professionals and hobbyists alike. Before the advent of integrated light meters, photographers relied on external devices, which they would have to purchase, frequently from local drugstores along with their film.
The significance of the SR-7’s contribution to photography is remarkable. It stands among influential models like the Pentax Spotmatic and other Canon and Nikon contemporaries, all of which played a role in the eventual demise of the standalone light meter market. Yet, companies like Sekonic persevered, carving out a niche that persists among certain professional and amateur photographers who seek the precision that these standalone devices offer.
Reflecting on my personal experience, acquiring the SR-7 was akin to unearthing hidden treasure. Its initial condition was far from immaculate—dirty, grimy, and non-functional. However, with some dedication and time spent on sprucing up the exterior, addressing the aged internal lubricant, and restoring the battery contacts, the camera sprang back to life. It was a humble yet deeply satisfying renaissance.
Equipped with the esteemed Minolta 58mm Rokkor-PF f/1.4 lens, a classic known for its exceptional sharpness at wide open apertures, the SR-7 doesn’t merely compete with modern lenses but may exceed many, thanks to the relative simplicity of its optical design. Below, I invite you to peruse a gallery showcasing shots from my inaugural roll of Kentmere 100 film taken through this lens.
The act of shooting with this camera in downtown Easley, near where I reside, was profoundly different from any digital experience. The SR-7 requires you to absorb the moment, peer down at the exposure meter, and make careful considerations before finalizing the composition and taking the photograph. This approach imparts a sense of mindfulness to the practice of photography—slowing down, contemplating, measuring, and then capturing the moment. It’s this deliberate pace that reshapes one’s perspective on photography.
Onlookers often approach me, their curiosity piqued by the distinct, vintage aesthetic of the camera that undoubtedly carries an “alien” appearance in contrast to modern devices. Using the SR-7 has been an immensely gratifying process, bathing in the nostalgia of the 1960s while creating timeless images.
For those who cherish the art of photography, who revel in the opportunity to try different angles and perspectives, securing a Minolta SR-7 on platforms like eBay or Etsy comes highly recommended. Owning this historic piece of photography is not just about owning a tool for image creation; it’s a journey through time, a homage to the craft, and a commitment to preserving and appreciating the feats of innovation that laid the groundwork for the luxuries of modern photography. It’s a decision I’ve made and not for a moment have I looked back in regret. The SR-7 not only deserves celebration; it demands to be used and prized.
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Pastoral Scenes
Growing up in the rural Southern United States was, as one might expect, a life filled with contrasts—combining the serene beauty of nature with the stark reality of hard labor. Just recently, I wrote a post about how a single photograph could stir a storm of emotions within a person. And there it was, on the light table, an image so potent that it whisked me back to my formative years without warning. The sight of horses trotting along fenced pastures against the backdrop of majestic, distant mountains was enough to transport me to an era long past, when my family owned a quaint farm about an hour’s drive from our residence.
It was a picturesque piece of land that we called our own, dotted with horses and ribboned with pastures; it boasted a tranquil pond and was caressed by trickling streams, with the presence of a river not far off. It was not just land—it was a fragment of paradise I held dearly in my heart. Those summers were idyllic, as I idled away the hours fishing on the pond or engaged in the exhilarating joy of horseback riding. Nevertheless, this bucolic splendor was no stranger to the demands of upkeep. Living in the city an hour away meant our visits were mostly confined to weekends, where time was consumed by the perennial tasks of fence mending and brush clearing to contend with the relentless growth of summer.
But memory has a curious way of revisiting us when we least expect it. A few weeks ago, Deana and I took a journey to Brevard, NC. On our homeward trip, she chose a detour through the scenic byroads of the countryside. It was a decision wonderfully made, for as we meandered past the rustic barns and expansive fields, with domestic animals grazing under the soft veil of mountain mist, a flood of remembrances overcame me. Those halcyon days of rustic life on our old family farm seemed to echo through time.
Adolescence is universally acknowledged as a challenging phase, a tumultuous bridge between the carefree spirit of childhood and the responsibilities that adulthood demands. Yet, nestled amidst nature on the farm, a young me could find solace in solitude, accompanied by the loyal presence of the animals—a sort of refuge from the clamorous march of school and the various trials life presented.
The pastoral scene captured in the photograph presented a vibrant tableau to my mind’s eye—the numerous hours expended in the company of our horses, and the transient yet timeless spirit of the wild animals who were the original tenants of that land. That land was a sanctuary, untouched by modernity’s hustle. The absence of cellphone coverage, the absence of the relentless pulse of music, and the absence of the invisible chains of wireless technology created an ambiance where tranquility reigned supreme. Here, the world spoke in the language of nature—through the casual mooing of cows, the poignant calls of birds slicing through the skies, and the delicate whispers of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. It was, for a fleeting series of moments, a return to simplicity and an unspoiled connection with the earth.
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Episode 4, Sowing the Seed, of Coffee with Jefferson Davis
In this episode, I discuss one photograph and how it can change your life for a moment or a lifetime.
With a click, the shutter opened for a fraction of a second, capturing not just an image but encapsulating a story of survival and beauty in adversity. I stood there for a moment, basking in the satisfaction that comes from knowing when you’ve caught a magic moment on film. This photograph, I sensed, would be a cherished addition to my personal collection, a reminder that even in the most unexpected places, there’s always something extraordinary to be discovered. I knew in that instant that I had something that I, at the very least, would love. -
Pentax Spotmatic F
As a seasoned photographer with a rich history of engagement with both film and digital photography, I’ve had the immense pleasure of working with an impressive array of cameras. My collection spans from treasured antiques like a one hundred-year-old Kodak, which is a marvel of early photographic engineering, to the cutting-edge technology encapsulated in the sleek Sony A7 series, which represents the pinnacle of modern digital photography.
The array of cameras I have encountered in my career has taught me that each camera, irrespective of its age or technology, holds a unique value and potential for creativity. Each one has its special place in the timeline of photography and in my own personal journey as a photographer.
Reflecting on the period a few years ago when the world slowed down and we found ourselves sequestered in our homes, I rekindled my relationship with an old favorite—the Minolta srT series. This wasn’t just a reversion to past equipment; it was a nostalgic journey that allowed me to reconnect with a significant part of my photographic journey. Minolta cameras had been a part of my life since my early days, and revisiting them was like conversing with an old friend, familiar yet full of new stories to tell.
Going back to the fundamental aspects of photography with Minolta, I rediscovered my love for the craft. The tactile sensation of loading film, the mechanical click of the shutter, and the anticipation of developing shots offered a stark contrast to the immediate gratification of digital photography.
Minolta was always a very respected brand but underrated. While Canon and Nikon stole the limelight, Pentax and Minolta worked on refining their systems. Minolta, to me, always built a robust system and their lenses were amazing at depicting exactly what you saw through the viewfinder. Pentax, also known for their robust cameras, depict scenes with an ethereal feel. I have always admired Pentax lenses for that reason.
Discovering that I was losing my sight was a difficult pill to swallow. Two months back, as I was wallowing in self-pity, I stumbled upon an eBay auction that now seems like it was a beacon in the dark—a Pentax Spotmatic F paired with its infamously sharp 50mm f/1.4 lens, all starting at a mere $6.00. Not taking it too seriously, I threw in a whimsical bid of $13, never truly entertaining the thought that it would be mine. Imagine my surprise when the notification came through—I had actually won.
Our financial situation was tight, threading on the line of being broke, but I completed the transaction and shared the news with my incredible wife, Deana. Her support has been unwavering, and sharing my victories, however small, always felt like the wins were ours to cherish together.
The package took its time, but its arrival was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. We both have our Pentax K1000s, perfectly suited for each of us, yet the Spotmatic was a stranger to my collection. That all changed the moment I held it. It was as if the camera was an extension of my hand; I instantly knew that this little machine and I would create many fond memories together.
I invested a languorous afternoon into its care, ensuring that the mirror bumper had new life, the light seals were replaced, and that no old grease had turned against the inner workings of this mechanical masterpiece. The camera was in pristine condition, and the lens was immaculate—free from dust and the fog of age.
Taking it out for a maiden journey, I felt a blend of excitement and calmness. As I operated the camera, each subtle feature—from the smoothly operating advance lever to the distinct click of the shutter—resonated with me, as if it were speaking the language of my passion.
The results were nothing short of stunning. The roll of film developed revealed photographs that held an exceptional quality, with a kind of soul that only film can capture. So far, I have only shot one roll of film in it, but the promise of many more to come lingers in the air—provided, of course, I manage to keep the Spotmatic out of the admiring hands of my beloved wife. For in our house, the love for photography is a shared one, and the allure of this newly-acquired treasure is strong. Who knows? Perhaps this will become her new favorite, but for now, I remain its devoted custodian and collaborator in capturing the beauty of our world. It really is her camera. 😉
